Drifting

Conversations swirl around overhead

And I lie unable to take part in them

 

 Snatches here and snatches there

Yet I lie detached in my mausoleum

 

 There is a fall and swell in the distant noise

As I drift along, my pain quite unseen

 

 Energy seeps out and soaks into the bed

Weakness and and helplessness threaten to overwhelm

 

 I float in the darkness inside my head

Pain my main tormentor inside this private cell

 

(Written in hospital 27.07.08 (first draft))

Afghanistan and my nephew

My nephew is just 19 years old and he is currently serving in Afghanistan.  He has approximately 8 weeks left of a 6-month tour.  He wanted to join the army because he wanted to learn a trade, see a bit of the world and have a go at something he thought he would be good at.  Struggling with dyslexia since junior school, he has always been the practical sort and when he looked into joining the army, the idea of learning many practical skills appealed to him. 

In the initial fervour of joining up, he was confident he would serve with the army for many years.  However, within a few months, he was glad he had only signed up for the minimum term of four years.  This wasn’t because of the the physical or mental demands of the job, but more the pyschological impact on his own persona and his life.  He really enjoys training, preparing his weapons and being part of a team, but I don’t think anything can prepare a man or woman for the impact of serving in a war zone. 

It really began to sink in when he was given training in extreme first aid i.e. what do you do when your comrade has just had his leg blown off?  This was closely followed by the formality of having to fill in paperwork, submit a blood sample and a photo in case someone needed to identify him at a later date.  This was when he realised this was the real deal and he could actually get seriously injured or die.

He came back after five weeks because he had injured his trigger finger and had to allow it to heal for 10 days.  When he went back, he just left without saying goodbye.  Some people have judged him for this because this could have been the last time we saw him.  I think he didn’t want to say goodbye for exactly that reason.  Having spoke with him when on leave and learning of the horrors that he had experienced, it is understandable that he just left.  How do you go through the emotional experience of saying goodbye to your Mum and siblings knowing what its like back at the base? 

In those five weeks, he had changed – become more serious and it was like a shadow had descended over him.  He told me about how someone stepped on a mine only feet in front of him and while waiting for a medic, he sat with him watching him die, with a feeling of utter helplessness washing over him.  His comrade’s injuries were so bad, he could do nothing except be with him so he didn’t die alone.  My nephew is 19 and this experience aged him overnight.  I know people will say he knew what he was signing up for when he joined, but I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re in for until they are in the thick of it.  From my conversations with my nephew, I have garnered the opinion that there is very little training given in terms of psychological training on how to deal with these extreme situations.  Surely this is absolutely essential to give them all the strength of mind to carry on in such arduous situations and stave off feelings of utter depression that accompany war?  As soldiers, they are trained to become machines of war.  The premise being that they have to be able to act quickly and decisively and without second-guessing themselves.  This comes from the training and often saves lives.

But when he rings home in the middle of the night and tells you how he has spent the week in the shell of a village hunting for mines in the oppressive heat, or that he can’t get his clothes clean anymore in the river, how inane does your own day sound.  I’ve tried to write to him many times and I am ashamed that I haven’t done so yet in the four months he has been out there, but every time I come to write, the hum-drum of every day life here seems so insignificant.  He told his brother just the other day he been out that day recovering parts of fallen comrades.  The overwhelming morbidity of the task was very distressing and he cried for the fallen and for the fact it could have been him.

He is twenty years old in a couple of weeks and we are sending over care packages for his birthday.  I have to hang on to the fact that these small sentimental gestures will buoy him up somehow until he completes his tour.  Seeing war up and close and personal changes a person and I don’t want to lose this young man when he comes back from Afghanistan to the comfort and safety of his life here in the UK.  What I mean is that after the initial excitement and relief of having him home, after the tears and smiles and hugs all round, when things settle down and the normality of everyday life takes over, will he distance himself and lock himself away or will we be able to tease out the man again and separate him from the soldier?  I know this will take patience, lots of listening and just being there, but isn’t that the very least I can give to this hero?

Hero is defined as “a man of exceptional courage, nobility” (Collins English Dictionary).  Never has that title been more fitting for the people serving right now in Afghanistan in whatever capacity.  You don’t need a medal or public recognition to become a hero because exceptional courage shows itself in many forms.  This young soldier, a member of my family, is a hero.  He has the courage to get up every day in the searing heat and do his job to the best of his abilities regardless of the task.  He has the courage to carry an injured soldier to the helicopter in a bid to save his life.  He has the courage to not judge the frightened locals living in a war zone by the actions of their fellow citizens.  He has the courage to do his duty every day knowing that could it be his last.

Our family are anxiously waiting and worrying quietly every day until he comes home and when he does, we will be keen to remind of the many, many good things that humanity can offer in an attempt to dilute the stain of war upon his mind and body.

Farm games

Wherever I seem to turn at the moment people are playing farm games online, myself included.  Farm Town and Farmville proving ever popular on Facebook with a myriad of different apps for the iphone and pc.  My son is obsessed with a game called Farm Frenzy 3 and gets a lot of satisfaction from completing each level.

I have to say that when playing my favourite farm app on the iphone (Alice Greenfingers £0.59), I do too.  But why?  There’s a lot to be said for pottering around in an actual garden as it can reduce stress and generally considered a relaxing pastime.  Maybe a dose of computer generated farming has the same sort of appeal.  Even though there are many jobs to do as my farm grows, so the game becomes fast-paced, I still see it as “switching off” from the every day for five minutes and that in itself is a valuable anti-stress measure.

Anyway I’m starting to ramble a little bit now so what are your thoughts?  Do you have favourite online farm game? Do you play it on Facebook or in any other format?  Or, are you a farmer yourself – can you throw some light on why this form of light entertainment is so addictive?

Signing off for now…..

Hello world!

Hello World,

I’ve decided to set up this blog following some interesting reading about blogs on the OU website.

I currently work full time as a PA.  I write poetry and fiction when I can and I would love to be able to do this on a more permanent basis.

I have just written my first childrens picture book called There’s an alien in my wardrobe, which I am in the process of sending to publishers.  I’ve had a few no’s, but with some positive feedback so I’m still positive.

I am also in the process of writing an erotic fiction piece called The Midnight Room.  I’m really enjoying the creative process, I just wish I had more time to write.

I am currently studying a BA in Humanities with the Open University.  I have just finished my first year and my second course starts in November where I will be doing level 1 Spanish.

I am also a wife and mother to the two most wonderful men in my life, my husband Mike and my son Howard.  Howard is my co-writer!  At just 6 years old, he has got the most amazing imagination and we come up with some great stories.

So, that’s enough about me for now.  I hope this blog will be of interest to you dear reader and I will post again soon.

Caroline