mystorymystorymystorymystorymystorymy storymystorymystorymystorymystorymystoryThis Soldier’s battleBy Corey Carter as told to Cleveland Clinic MagazineI knew something was going down. There were too many people standing around. Juststanding and looking. We had stopped traffi c to let the convoy pass. Suddenly, a taxi pulledup. Two men got out and started walking away...Iraq is a hot place. Temperatures get up to120 degrees in the shade during the day.Traveling the highways is even hotter -like an infernal hair dryer blasting nonstopin your face. At night, you peel offyour gritty, sweat-ringed uniform andgrab some sleep, sharing your bunk witha bunch of sand fleas.But the worst part is that you wake upevery morning knowing you’ve got toleave the relative safety of your base andtravel out into the “Red Zone” where thefarther you go, the more dangerous it gets.The adrenaline starts pumping. Everythingis your business. You notice small details. It’snot only your life at stake, but the livesyou’re protecting.It affects you. But you have to do it. I’vebeen in the Air National Guard now for10 years, with the 121st Refueling Wing.In December 2003, I was living in Columbus,Ohio, working as a mechanic atRyder Truck Rental and taking care ofmy family. In January 2004, I was called upfor duty in Iraq.My unit shipped out to Speicher AirBase, in Tikrit, where I worked as a vehicleoperator craftsman. In civilian terms, adriver. My unit supplied traffic securityfor convoys. You see, a convoy can’t stop -not in the Red Zone. A stopped convoy isa target for insurgents. So we have to keepthem moving.We started the day at 5 a.m., escorting asmall convoy down to Balad Air Base, 68kilometers north of Baghdad. At 7 a.m., wecame to an intersection. My truck was thefirst in to block off the intersection, stoppingtraffic to let the convoy through.I was in the back of the truck scanningthe area. I noticed a bunch of people standingaround on my right. I panned back tosee what they were looking at, and that’swhen the explosion came.Shrapnel flew everywhere. I was knockedoff my feet. I tried to push myself up, butsomething was wrong: I couldn’t move myarm. I couldn’t even feel it. I’d been hit. Myarm was paralyzed and bleeding.Within an hour, I was back at the base, insurgery. Shrapnel had shredded my shoulder,slashing through the nerve and artery.I’d lost a lot of blood. But I wasn’t scared - Iknew they’d take the <strong>best</strong> care of me.The docs at the base sealed me up andsent me home. I ended up at Wright-PattersonAir Force Base in Dayton. I was gladto be back in Ohio, but I still couldn’t moveor feel my arm. I was getting concerned.The Wright-Patt docs couldn’t repair thenerve damage in my arm, so they sent meto see Dr. Nicholas Boulis at The ClevelandClinic. Dr. Boulis explained that theshrapnel had damaged a group of nervesunder my collarbone. These particularnerves, called the brachial plexus, controlmy arm, my bicep. He thought that aggressivesurgery and grafting might improve myodds for a good recovery. Dr. Boulis wasskeptical, however, that I’d get back completefunction. I was determined to provehim wrong - I wanted full feeling and fullmotion in my arm, my hand and my fingers.I was determined.We did the surgery in December. Duringthirteen long hours, they took a nerveout of my left leg and sewed it into myshoulder. A month later, I was able tomove my arm.Dr. Boulis was amazed. I was way aheadof schedule. He didn’t expect that muchmovement for another month. That was sixmonths ago. Now, the feeling is comingback into my hand. My palm is almost backto normal. I can move my fingers and wrist.I can make a fist. My tricep works. NowDr. Boulis and I are talking about a secondsurgery for my bicep. I go to physical therapytwice a week. I’m working hard, andhaven’t forgotten my goal of regaining fullfeeling and motion.Things are getting better. I’m not uptightabout what happened. I served my country.I did my job. I’d do it again – gladly.44 cleveland clinic magazine
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