Ouch!

Before my deployment, I had to attend an Army-run Combat Skills Training course. I didn't find much of the training worthwhile and have yet to employ anything I learned there (this is probably a good thing). The training was mandatory because my deployment is a Joint Expeditionary Tasking, or JET; that is a tasking for other branches of military to fill in for shortfalls in the Army. I'm not a soldier, but I've now had some soldier training so I can grunt and hooah with the rest of them around here. Alright I did go to a Department of Defense school for Public Affairs technical training so my job really isn't so different than it would be if I were in an Air Force billet.

Now that the background is out of the way, my post is really about what happened at the end of training almost 2 months ago.

At the end of CST, New Jersey was hit with a big snow storm, though not quite the snowpocalypse the East coast is suffering from lately. This storm precluded our field exercise which would have been the summation of our training. But in good ol' Army fashion, we continued to get geared up and trudge through the snow and over ice to show that there really was a point for us having to be there until two days before Christmas.

It was on the return from one of these last outings that I found myself facedown on the ice. I was carrying my rifle in my right hand, unslung so as to not impale myself with it should I fall. And fall I did. I guess I thought more about making sure my rifle didn't crash to the ground as I maintained a hold on it as I fell, thus driving my knuckle into the ice.

I assure you it hurt, but I had to "soldier" on and finish up my training. I wasn't about to get sent home or delay my deployment reporting for a sore finger. I thought I may have just jammed it as I've done on many occasions to several different phalanges. The worst part was to be that I had to pack a couple of days later, and lug baggage around to various locales over the next couple of weeks. Did I mention it hurt? It didn't even show signs of improving aside from a little of the swelling subsiding.

It's been nearly two months since that incident and the pain wasn't really going away, especially on cold days when I feel like an arthritic old man. I decided to go to the small clinic here on camp to inquire if a jammed finger should be feeling better by now. The doc was suspicious, as I had been, that it was more than a jam. He sent me to another camp with an x-ray machine to have a pic. Turns out I have a chipped bone.

I have pictures of the x-rays to share with you:

See the little guy seceding from the union?

The only thing that can be done now is to work on rehabilitating. Instead of traveling back and forth to the other camp, I've opted to work it out myself (on the doctor's approval) -- I squeeze a stress ball. After only a couple of days, it feels like it's starting to improve.

Since this is such a long post, I won't continue to bore you with insignificant details of my trip to the other camp. Tune in later for my thoughts on what I've seen of Afghan life while here. I assure you it will be less whining about my poor health.

Broken, but now I have 207 bones, right?

Marty