(no subject)
There are very few people in my life that have made a lasting impact on me. And just today I realized that most of them are nameless. But this time I will find this person. I can't even explain what impacted me only that he left me absolutely moved beyond words. I was waiting for my sister at National Airport after my shift was over (We were going to Pentagon City mall) and I was standing at the elevators when a man came out in a wheelchair. He was young about my age or maybe a few years older. Then a woman followed suit. They looked around confused (like most people do at the airport). I asked them if they needed some help and they asked me where the shuttle bus was to Walter Reed. So of course I took the man to be a soldier. I've never heard of a shuttle to the hospital so I told them that I would find out. I went to my supervisor and asked her and she didn't know but made a call to someone at the airport. They informed us that they were sending a man named Steve whom handles the veterans going to Reed. I was asked to stay with the man and woman until Steve came. At first it was awkward. I'd seen soldiers come in before for Reed but never talked too to many of them. Its hard to think about what to talk about. Some don't want to talk. Others talk nonsense and others try to be normal. I could tell this want was still a bit shocked. But surprisingly he was very opened about his time in Iraq. He even showed me where the rocket pieces hit his legs and blasted out chucks of shin. Of course it all had been operated on and grafted by then. He was healing nicely and was told that he would be able to walk after a final surgery and rehabilitation. He was very opened to questions and so I asked. Perhaps some daring ones like "How did it happen?" or "will you ever walk again?" For some reason I think he appreciated the honestly of my questions and my enthusiasm at seeing his legs, and the cheesecloth type bandage he had on underneath the skin to help it regrow. He had beautiful eyes. And they told so much. The fear, the shock, the gratefulness at being alive. He had pictures that showed where other pieces of the rocket hit the walls surrounding him. Apparently most were at the height of where his head was, and he can't understand why only his legs were hit. He'd been in Iraq for 13 months, he had two till he would have been going home. It was his day off and he was getting coffee when the rocket hit. And I was just thinking "fuck" the whole time. It hit me so hard that Bush has really fucked up. Bush fucked up that guys life. Sure he might walk at some point but not like he used to. Not with pieces of bone replaced with metal and muscles moved around to fill in the holes. And so I want to find this man. I want to make sure he's okay. Because if Bush can't make sure that he's okay than at least I can.