The Path to Digression II

“Big Brother” is watching me. Literally… but that’s fine… if I didn’t want my thought’s words, gripes, and negativity read, then I wouldn’t publish them. Recently a question was posed as to why I am so unhappy. I think I am honestly more burnt out than I am unhappy.

As far as my job is concerned, I am still content. You have to understand my job from my view point… My job is vital on my ship. My Chief, my Third classes and I are responsible for the health and well-being of over 370 sailors at any given time. This is a tremendous responsibility. It’s easy to have compassion burn-out as well… especially when you only see some people when they are feeling crappy. I get to see people at their worst on a daily basis…

In addition to normal patient care, there is a metric f-ton of administrative duties that I am responsible for. These duties are extremely difficult to take care of while struggling to stay afloat, especially when my shipmates decide that 2300 (11 PM for you civilian types) is more convenient for them to ask for sick call or medicine than the two hours a day that we allot for sick call. A common question I ask them is: “How long have you been feeling crappy?” When it’s 11PM and they tell me that they have felt crappy ALL DAY LONG, I follow with: “Where were you at sick call?” They usually reply with some sort of mundane excuse as to why they couldn’t come in at 0800 or 1500 (8AM or 3PM) usually it’s something like “I work nights” or “I was on watch.” Mind you, there are no watches onboard that press on through both of my sickcalls, and even the few who work nights can come in at 0800 (which is more like 8PM for the night shift)

Some would consider me insensitive or mean, because a majority of the time, I tell them to come back for sickcall, even if it’s something as simple as them asking for medicine for a sore throat. I’m especially hard on the new crew members… One would argue that since they are new, I should cut them slack… the problem with being too nice to new people is that they start to get into the comfort zone and end up being habitual violators of my office hours… so from the start, I gently remind them that there are sickcall hours available for their use.

Don’t get me wrong; I still like my job. I am more than content with my co-workers and my supervisor; I just desperately need to get as far away from this place as humanly possible. I’ve already lost every ounce of motivation that I once had, and realistically, the only thing that gets me through the day is the knowledge that one day I will get to leave this place and never have to look back. But that day is still so very far away.

The path to digression (Part 1 of who knows how many)

I found that the longer I was onboard, the harder I worked. This was especially true for underway times. My HMC kept warning me that I would burn myself out if I didn’t slow down and take time for myself… but I was too determined to find my comfort zone in my profession, and I am a workaholic nonetheless. I am actually content just working and not doing anything else… Let me just tell you… my HMC was right… you do need some personal time or you will lose it….

I was happy and content, doing the normal sailor thing until that dreaded day in October, when I had to go Mess Cranking… I mean… when I was assigned as a Food Service Attendant (FSA)… That was probably the first step towards my digression. Being an FSA is a challenge to everyone… well, not everyone… but to those who are in small divisions or departments, it can be difficult to understand. My Chief kept telling me to just see it through… that Cranking build character… which was ironic, because he never did when he was a Junior Corpsman on a Destroyer. Working for the Mess Management Specialists… errr… Culinary Specialists (as they are now referred to) was a humbling experience. It is difficult to feed 360+ crew members 4 times a day. That’s about all that I took from that whole experience… but I did gain an even greater appreciation for my job as a corpsman.

In time I managed to make third class, which didn’t mean much at the time… but would later prove relatively useful… as I would shortly be promoted over my senior HM3 to Leading Petty Officer of Medical. We would also get a ship rider who I would eventually help achieve qualifications as an Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist. All in all, my Motivation level was pretty high, and I was still some what compassionate and not quite jaded.

Orders for my HMC and my HM3 came up, and orders for his and her replacements soon followed. Jokingly I had stated that my HMC’s replacement was probably gonna be a Dental Technician and not a real corpsman, and we both had a good laugh. It seems that I am really good at predicting the future… as the orders that appeared were for a DTC (Chief Dental Technician.) The Navy had only recently merged the rating of Dental Technician with Hospital Corpsman. It just so happens that my soon to be Chief was one of the first to make it through Surface Force Independent Duty Corpsman School. (An impressive feat considering it is one the most difficult NEC to obtain.) I could feel my motivation and drive falter as I had always had a bit of disdain for DT’s and I felt that my new Chief would probably be overbearing and dictator-like since he was a converted DT trying to prove himself as a Corpsman. Thankfully, I would be wrong in that instance.

In January of 2006, my current HMC arrived in Japan with his family. My HMC at the time rented a car and we went to pick them up at the airport. (A tradition for the Corpsman Onboard my ship.) I remember watching them walk and talk ahead of me and the feeling that my world was about to drastically change, and not for the better. It felt like the end of an era, and like my time and usefulness was over.

As fate would have it, my new HMC was actually a great guy. I’m not just saying this because he may read it, I honestly mean that. For those who know me, they remember how difficult of a transition it was for me to have the turnover… (especially since my old chief and I were very good friends on and off duty.) But gradually, my new Chief came into his own, and we have been working fluidly and easily since the start.

Sailors are interesting creatures… like sharks; they can smell fresh blood. The fresh blood in this instance is a fresh IDC, and they took full advantage of that. They would try and exploit him every chance they got for SIQ Chits, LLD Chit… the whole nine yards. And in the beginning he was (like me) overly accommodating. I watched as my shipmates used and abused my chief and would tell him about it. All the while, I was building resentment and becoming more complacent in regards to my crew. This was the path to digression, as this is where I began to become slightly jaded. My Chief eventually caught on to the “Sickcall Commandoes”, and things have mellowed out. They no longer try and scam him or really attempt malingering.

Once upon a time, I was the “Nice Corpsman.” Now, I am the corpsman that they come to only when they REALLY need medical attention. (i.e. they don’t wake me at 3AM for Tylenol anymore.) I’m still a go-to guy, but they usually make sure that it is important before disturbing me at inopportune times (like in the restroom or during a meal.) So there you have it… my story of digression… if you read my first few posts until now, you can see just a glimpse of why I may come off as jaded sometimes (and I promise you that I will in posts to come.) While I have left quite a few more details out, I’m sure one day I may just give them via rant or what have you… but for the time, at least you can kind of see a little about the life of a senior corpsman out to sea.

The Early, more happier years aboard a Ship.

I arrived at Tokyo Narita Japan Airport the late afternoon of 14 July 2004. Bright eyed and bushy tailed… well… more like, jet lagged and anxious… I found my way through customs and got to the arrival area to meet my new Chief and HM3. They greeted me at the gate and helped me get my baggage into the rental car and so began my wondrous journey in the Land of the Rising Sun.

I remember a feeling of wonder and awe the first time I saw my first ship. It looked almost majestic as it sat on Harbor Master Pier West at Fleet Activities Yokosuka. The Hull Number was 62 and the bridge wing had many unit awards and letters painted on it. A huge gold E stood out more than the rest. It was explained to me that my ships was one of the best in the Fleet… 5 time Battle Efficiency Award Recipient and most senior on the water front. We pulled up next to the ship, and they helped me with my bags as I made my way aboard for the very first time.

I had never stepped foot on a Naval Ship before. Everything was new and exciting… it was a whole new world. We stepped into my office and I was introduced to what would be my world for the next three plus years. I was excited and amazed at my little Medical Department. It wasn’t much looking back at it… it was actually quite small and out of the ordinary. A medical table was in the middle; the kind you see in a doctors office. There was a small 2 bed inpatient ward off to the side, two small computer desks and a countertop. But I was so motivated and just happy to be somewhere new that it didn’t matter.

I was extremely compassionate and accommodating my first few months onboard. I would stop what I was doing to help someone if they asked… it didn’t matter what time of day or night it was… I was Corpsman on the Spot. Since I had to live onboard at the time, I was the most accessible. I would be woken up at 3:00AM for Tylenol because someone ha a little headache and I was fine with that. When my Chief and HM3’s found out, they were a little concerned. They warned me that if I kept being too accommodating, that I would be taken advantage of. And for the most part, they were right. My crew was using and abusing me because I was new and eager.

My motivation was actually pretty long-lived. I lived to work. I would come in an hour before the other corpsman would come onboard just to learn about my job, and to play with the Medical Database that we used to keep track of patients. And I would leave mid evening two or three hours after everyone else had left. I was determined to learn my job and excel at it. My determination would end up paying off later on in my tour… but with positives come negatives….

I watched as the HM3’s interacted with the crew. And I saw a lack of compassion and blasé attitude towards the job. I struggled to understand how any Hospital Corpsman could be so jaded and so uncompassionate. When confronted, they told me that after a while, every corpsman gets burned out with this job, and that one day, I too would be the way they were. I found it hard to believe; but I took there words for what they were.

I loved my new life and job. It was a refreshing change from the bureaucracy of a hospital; and I have never been more at peace than when I am out to sea. I would go topside every night to watch the sunset on the horizon. The water, which was always a deep shade of blue would be silver, calm, and smooth like glass as my ship silently cut through the waves, and the sky would look as if it were on fire. You have never really seen a sunset until you have seen one at sea. A lyric from a song that I would always hear came to mind… “A sailor’s life is a life for me…”