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Thread: Daily Bread

  1. #71
    Williamsmith
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    Continued..

    Injury is an everyday part of training. Some came unprepared, some are the victim of bad luck or poor judgement and some seem like they are nursing phantom symptoms in order to get out of physical training. Undoubtedly, the running is brutal. It is every morning and it is sometimes in the dark. The pace is often too much for the same people over and over. You adopt the same strategy for all matters of training. Finish some where in the middle of the pack where you don't draw attention to yourself.

    The same cadet finishes first in the run every day. He is a gifted runner and he also enjoys a cigarette, quite often sneaking a smoke just before running. The same cadet finishes last. He is a doughball and a constant complainer. Midway through training he will get a physical excuse from the run and will be held over into the next overlapping class due to his deficiencies. Eventually, he will be graduated and arrive in the field but you will despise him for his laziness and shirking his duties. One particular time he almost gets you killed. And fittingly, he makes rank.

    But back at the academy you find yourself again in the tank. Everyone is required to repeatedly dive to the bottom and return to the surface. Apparently this is to desensitize you to the possibility of having to enter water for an attempt at lifesaving especially to a submerged vehicle. You've never been this deep before and you are a bit claustrophobic but to the bottom you go. During one dive, your ear seems to ache and as you get to the bottom a sharp pain in your left ear drum accompanied by a rush of water makes it a certainty that something disturbing has happened. You lose your sense of direction, equilibrium and float to the top where you crawl out on the deck, blood oozing from the left ear.

    The academy nurse, an older man who seems a bit challenged medically peers into your bleeding ear and announces that it is clearly just a broken blood vessel. He stuffs cotton in it and tells you to report back to the tank. The only reason you don't have to go back in is that they don't want blood in the water. But for the next two nights you lay in excruciating pain and survive training and instruction during the day.

    Finally, you report back to the nurse and tell him the pain is unbearable. He begrudgingly sends you to a nearby medical center which just happens to be one of the finest facilities in the state. A surgeon examines you and advises you have ruptured your tympanic membrane.....your eardrum is destroyed. If you can just tough out the final weeks of training and graduate, he will build you a new eardrum by harvesting a part of the muscle behind your ear and attaching it in the place where your original one was. He explains that he will do the surgery through the ear canal. This doesn't seem too bad but like many other plans, it doesn't work that way. He ends up cutting your ear and laying it open onto your face. The surgery is a success but recovery is slow.

  2. #72
    Williamsmith
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    It may be possibly a little incongruous with the purpose of this thread but there does not seem to be any direction except for simply speaking what's on my mind. Sometimes the daily bread is old and moldy, sometimes it's fresh out of the oven.

    Today, it has been a sad day following a sleepless night. A close friend, closer than a brother.....lost his son. He was shot and killed in a domestic disturbance. I thought I had a good grip on the frustration of the question, "why?" That little word .....I do hate it so.

    Just trying to find a way to tell them to hold on.

    https://youtu.be/NLlOeGeVih4

  3. #73
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    Dear Williamsmith, I am so sorry to hear of your friends horrific loss. No advice, just sympathy and wishes for peace.

  4. #74
    Senior Member iris lilies's Avatar
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    This is shocking news, williamsmith. I am so sorry for you and your friend.

  5. #75
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    My condolences.
    No parent should have to bury their child.

  6. #76
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    I am so sorry for your loss, Williamsmith.

  7. #77
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    Oh I am so sorry, I also have never had an answer to why. Sometimes the best we can do is be present with them.

  8. #78
    Senior Member SteveinMN's Avatar
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    Wow! My condolences. Sometimes "why" is very far away indeed. I wish you peace as you remember this young man and attend to the grief his family (and you) are going through.
    Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome. - Booker T. Washington

  9. #79
    Williamsmith
    Guest
    Thank you for the expressions of sympathy.

  10. #80
    Williamsmith
    Guest
    Continued...

    Assignments are handed out for graduating cadets. Most intra and inter troop transfers have been completed and vacancies are filled out of the academy. Vacancies are mostly at the busiest stations closest to the urban areas as Troopers migrate to supposedly less challenging counties. There is a dedicated interstate patrol troop and a turnpike troop that spans the entire length of the state from east to west. Nobody from the academy is assigned either of these two troops because older troopers are transferring in and filling any vacancies. The county troops are tasked with all manner of criminal and traffic enforcement similar to a sheriffs department in many states. You wait to see where you will end up.

    Prior to assignments being handed out you were asked to provide preferred destinations. Your top three were your home troop and two adjacent troops respectively. You expect to at least get an adjacent assignment that will leave you within 100 miles of your home. One by one, each cadet receives their assignment ...except you. Finally, you have to speak up as everyone is about to leave the room. The response confirms that you have been keeping a low profile. "Who the hell are you?"

    It seems to befuddle the leadership. But after some calling around, your assignment arrives. Troop G......smack dab in the middle of the state over two hundred miles away from home. You look on the map. It's near the largest university in the state....the same one you attended but past that, there are more deer, bear and turkeys than there are people. It's going to be difficult to find a suitable rental. Your wife accompanies you on a scouting mission. You need to find a place to live and you need to meet the Sargeant in charge of your barracks.

    Arriving in the area, you generally know the location but can't place where the barracks is. Heading up the mountain, you've been told it is up on top near the highway maintenance shed. You find it, but you are not sure what you are looking at. There is a sign announcing that it is the facility of interest but it is simply a small house. There are only two marked patrol cars and a tiny driveway. Walking in the front door, there is a trooper with his feet up on a desk, a bowl of soup and his clip on tie hanging off to the side. You introduce yourself and reach out your hand. He simply swivels in a squeaky chair and screams back toward what looks like a bedroom. "Sarge! The new boot is here!" "Send him in!" Comes the reply. The voice is decidedly feminine and when you enter the office....you learn that your new Commanding Officer is the first female Sargeant to ever command a station I. The history of your department which goes back 75 years.

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