Reaching Past The Wire: A Nurse at Abu Ghraib

22. Finding Myself Again

Finding Myself Again Leaving Iraq was happy; it was sad; it was as surreal as arriving there. Some of the translators handed me letters. From Abu Hani: When I came to Abu-Krab to work for titan I thought I was going to see some things and I did. I saw dignity, loylity, happeness, cleaverness all in one person that all in germain. From Prince: To my second dear mother. These words I am writing for you represent my respect , esteem and my love for you. All what I write can’t represent all what I have for you. Generally I can say you are my second mother so when I see my mother I remember you. I promise that I will never forget you till death and I hope that you will never forget me. Separation always separation is what I dislike in life but at 201 ★ 22 this moment I have duality in feeling because I am sad because you are leaving for ever leaving me alone. Second I am happy because you will go home to meet your family. My last words: enjoy life, take care of yourself. At last you are my real friend. From Breeze: Dear Germain, It’s been so nice working with you although it was for short time but I acquired useful medical terms. Thanks for being so nice to me and to all the translators . They always complimenting you for being kind and nice. I am unhappy at your departure. I hope you come back to your home safely. It was hard to say good-bye. The hot, dusty, dangerous convoy, the waiting, the delayed and confusing flights to Kuwait, the waiting, the turning in of gear, the waiting—all familiar, all disorienting. We spent four days back at Fort Stewart, attending sessions about going home that were to prepare us to meet our spouses again, to get back into the civilian world again, and to face the di∞culties of regaining our normal lives. At our first formation back at Fort Stewart, we were told we should wear our green uniforms. I didn’t want to. No. I’ve been over there. I earned this dirty desert uniform. I could feel myself seething inside whenever I was expected to wear the green. The desert uniform represents the real deal, the experience a veteran of that war has that separates him or her from soldiers not deployed. It repreReaching Past the Wire 202 sented where we had been and who we had become. To give up the desert uniform says you have assimilated to being back. I was not there yet. I returned home on August 21, 2004, with no fanfare. We were just a few. Being in the safety of my husband’s arms once again was so wonderful. I was grateful to see Laura, YaYa, and my son-in-law again, knowing I would be able to see them every week and watch YaYa grow up. Yet I soon felt as if I were floating between two worlds. I thought that I knew what the adjustment would be like and that I had some control over the process. But I had thoughts, feelings, and inner chatter that could not be rationally controlled. My mind was in Iraq, but my body was here, where it quickly felt like it didn’t belong. Meanwhile, no one in the United States seemed to care that we were fighting a war. The conversations around me were on such insignificant matters—day-to-day concerns, the state fair, what to buy for fall, anything but the war. I didn’t think it would be like this. I couldn’t stop caring. In every quiet moment my mind was back at Abu Ghraib with patients, fellow soldiers, and translators. Were they safe? Were they okay? I was listening to any news I could get about the war and the Middle East. The newspaper reports said too little, and television news was not much better . Sometimes I found myself yelling at the TV, “That’s a damn lie. It’s just not true!” cbs began devoting a minute every evening to a soldier who had been killed; I stopped whatever I was doing when I heard the lead-in music and was glued to the television set. I prayed that I would not recognize that day’s soldier. 203 Finding Myself Again As...