"Thank You" Doesn't Even Cut It...

November, 11...Happy Veteran's Day.  How can you REALLY thank those who sacrifice their lives to protect our freedom?  I don't think I'll ever know the answer to that question.  Especially after the conversation I had this week with my 94 year old patient.

We all know someone who has served/is currently serving.  We've studied multiple war's growing up in school and have even participated in reenactments (or observed them) in an effort to gain a greater appreciation for our veteran's.  Or...maybe I'm the only one..::cough:: nerd.

My Grandfather earned a purple heart in WWII.  One afternoon (I think I was about 10), while I was snooping around my grandparent's attic, I found one of his old uniforms.  In the mind of a 10 year old, the right thing to do is obviously play dress up!  I proudly donned the uniform and made my way downstairs to show off my new threads.  As I burst through the door, I quickly learned that this probably wasn't the best idea.  My Grandmother escorted me upstairs where she helped me change into a more appropriate "dress up" costume.  She explained that my Grandfather wasn't mad at me but I probably shouldn't play with his uniform again. Oops.

Thank you, Google Images.  

Based on memory, this picture here is close to what I found.  Heavy wool, big brass buttons, and beautifully colored patches.

A few years later, equipped with a better sense of judgement and maturity, I was able to sit and talk to my grandparent's about their experience with the war.  Mixed in with sad and scary recollections of things I will NEVER be able to understand, was a beautiful love story.  I learned that they met before the war had started (my Grandmother swears she didn't like him despite her mother insisting he was "a nice Polish boy") and he decided to court her through the mail.  60+ years later...she still has the letters.

I've unfairly assumed that most people are able to share similar stories of fear, courage, and love.  I'm dumb.

As previously mentioned, I've been working with a 94 year old man.  He, like my Grandfather, is a WWII vet.  We're going to call him "Smokin' J"...he's AWESOME.  He might be 5'2" on a good day, wears suspenders, over-sized pants, and a semi-toothless perma-grin.  The PT I currently work with brings him a small apple-pie from McD's every day which he thoroughly enjoys as he starts his morning exercises.  Smokin' J LOVES food, ordering me to clean his glasses, and thermostats reading 100+ degrees.

It's starting to get pretty cold out...I've stopped wearing flip-flops.  Smokin' J does not like the change in weather and chooses to boldly exhibit his feelings by shouting,  "It's f*ing cold in here...whaddaya tryin' to do to me?  Preserve my a**?  Does anyone know how to turn on the g-damn heat? It's stupid!"....yeah...how was I supposed to respond?  A hug isn't appropriate.

-"Smokin' J", I said, "Why do you want to be so hot (not just warm) all the time?!  I happen to know it's 75 degrees in here...you'll be fine".
(P.S- he can't hear at all...so we're literally shouting back and forth to each other)
-"I'm used to 120 degree weather...IN MY UNIFORM!  This weather is for you pansies!"
-"Uniform?  120 degrees?  What are you talking about?"
-"I fought the war!  We beat the Japs!  In 120 degree weather!"
-"Oh yeah?  Where were you, Smokin' J?".
-"I survived Guadalcanal and Peleliu."

I was immediately left speechless.  He just sat there, staring at me, waiting for my response.  He took a bite of his apple pie and just smiled at me.  If you're not familiar with these battles, here you go:

http://www.hbo.com/the-pacific/index.html#/the-pacific/episodes/0/01-part-1/article/historical-background.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Peleliu

Honestly, before religiously watching HBO's "The Pacific", I had only really focused on the battles fought over in Europe.  This INCREDIBLE mini-series reenacted WWII's battles in the Pacific with raw live footage and interviews mixed in with the magic of movie making.  Do yourself a favor and watch it!

Smokin' J's scheduled 30 minute treatment session turned into me eating lunch with him later that afternoon. He completely opened up to me about his experiences with the U.S. Marines.  He described the harsh conditions they were expected to live in, lack of food, intense loss, fear, and what it was like to realize he had survived TWO of history's most deadly battles...and was heading home.  (Smokin' J can't hear anymore because of the residual effects of being around so much gun fire, bombs, etc...)  Considering everything he has experienced in life, Smokin' J is extremely well settled, a great conversationalist, and...adorable.

Thank you, Google Images. 

I decided to ask why he was never married.  At this point on our date, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.  Inside, he exposed three pictures:

1.) Solo shot of him, dressed in his uniform, with his gun.
2). A photo of him and two islanders.
3). A photo of him and the female from photo #2.

This photo, here, is obviously not one of the 3 he showed me. BUT...similar quality...and just for a reference point :)  

"That girl, right there...love of my life.  Her father gave her to me in exchange for a pack of cigarettes.  Crazy son of a b*tch!".

He explained that she was the Chief's daughter in this tiny village he had helped to protect from the enemy.  They spent 30 days together before he was ordered to move on to his next battle.  "I didn't know if I was gonna make it...so I left without saying goodbye.  She knew I loved her, though."

Smokin' J managed to keep that perma-grin on his face during this whole conversation.  I, on the other hand, had a hard time fighting back the tears.  He admitted that, even though having a family of his own would have been nice, he never found another woman "worth sharing cigarette's with."

Thank you, Smokin' J.
Thank you, Grandpa.
Thank you to everyone else who embodies more courage than I'll ever be able to muster up.

God Bless.