***image1***It was time to call it a day … another eventful one for sure. A team of medics had worked together to respond 24/7 to care for casualties from down range and transport them stateside.
As I set foot outside the squadron, I looked down at our well-worn welcome mat. It spoke of our day, with symbolism of what we do: our constant challenge, “aeromedical evacuation,” a red cross and the words “Always Ready.”
These words have greeted many over the years, and they continue to be a daily reminder to our aeromedical team, as we live out what those words really mean.
But what really is the cost of being “always ready” in these days of high ops tempo? Pick a function across the spectrum of military support, and we can tally monetary cost of readiness in terms of “organizing, training and equipping.” However, the real cost of being always ready is so much more.
It’s a story almost impossible to frame in a few words, but perhaps this would give you a vision. Pick up the welcome mat. Walk with me to the flight line and set the mat down on the tarmac at the ramp of a C-141 being readied for an aeromedical evacuation mission.
What do you see? A team of caring professionals with AE crew members checking equipment and running checklists, a flight surgeon updating the medical crew director on the status of a patient, litter teams standing by ready to carry the patients onto the aircraft.
The all-too-familiar buses with the red crosses arrive amidst a light fog, also a familiar sight. The fog creates an almost surreal effect on this real life stage.
The ambulatory patients soon begin to board the C-141. There is a flurry of activity as the settling in begins. Earplugs. Blankets. “I need some more pain medicine.” “Can I sit with my friend near his stretcher?”
The loading of the patients runs smoothly and reflects the well-orchestrated planning efforts of the team. “Prepare to lift. Lift.” “Adjust that strap – do you got it?” “I’ve got it.” “Are you OK?”
A Marine places a blanket on his comrade, “Thanks for what you did man. You’re gonna make it … have a good flight home. Semper fi.”
Words seem to defy those moments of life when there is a coming together of the reality of yesterday’s hurt and tomorrow’s hope. Tears are the language of both.
For the AE team on this mission, the readiness to respond to those moments may mean using their clinical skills, saying the right words or simply a caring touch.
It’s time to leave. As the plane is buttoned up and we send off our crew with some encouraging words and hugs, I step off the aircraft knowing that our aeromedical team is living out the motto, “Always Ready.”
As for the welcome mat … I’ll place it back in front of our door – as a welcome reminder of our commitment and our privilege.
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***image1***It was time to call it a day … another eventful one for sure. A team of medics had worked together to respond 24/7 to care for casualties from down range and transport them stateside.
As I set foot outside the squadron, I looked down at our well-worn welcome mat. It spoke of our day, with symbolism of what we do: our constant challenge, “aeromedical evacuation,” a red cross and the words “Always Ready.”
These words have greeted many over the years, and they continue to be a daily reminder to our aeromedical team, as we live out what those words really mean.
But what really is the cost of being “always ready” in these days of high ops tempo? Pick a function across the spectrum of military support, and we can tally monetary cost of readiness in terms of “organizing, training and equipping.” However, the real cost of being always ready is so much more.
It’s a story almost impossible to frame in a few words, but perhaps this would give you a vision. Pick up the welcome mat. Walk with me to the flight line and set the mat down on the tarmac at the ramp of a C-141 being readied for an aeromedical evacuation mission.
What do you see? A team of caring professionals with AE crew members checking equipment and running checklists, a flight surgeon updating the medical crew director on the status of a patient, litter teams standing by ready to carry the patients onto the aircraft.
The all-too-familiar buses with the red crosses arrive amidst a light fog, also a familiar sight. The fog creates an almost surreal effect on this real life stage.
The ambulatory patients soon begin to board the C-141. There is a flurry of activity as the settling in begins. Earplugs. Blankets. “I need some more pain medicine.” “Can I sit with my friend near his stretcher?”
The loading of the patients runs smoothly and reflects the well-orchestrated planning efforts of the team. “Prepare to lift. Lift.” “Adjust that strap – do you got it?” “I’ve got it.” “Are you OK?”
A Marine places a blanket on his comrade, “Thanks for what you did man. You’re gonna make it … have a good flight home. Semper fi.”
Words seem to defy those moments of life when there is a coming together of the reality of yesterday’s hurt and tomorrow’s hope. Tears are the language of both.
For the AE team on this mission, the readiness to respond to those moments may mean using their clinical skills, saying the right words or simply a caring touch.
It’s time to leave. As the plane is buttoned up and we send off our crew with some encouraging words and hugs, I step off the aircraft knowing that our aeromedical team is living out the motto, “Always Ready.”
As for the welcome mat … I’ll place it back in front of our door – as a welcome reminder of our commitment and our privilege.