Repost 2

The Coarse Humor of Soldiers

When he first came to us...I was reluctant to take him on. My boss specifically wanted to assign him to me even though I had a full caseload and wasn't next in line for new client arrivals. He and I have a similar background so my boss thought the connection would be beneficial...the theory being he'd bond with me and I'd know how to handle him better than anyone else on staff because I'm the only employee with anything close to the same experiences.I was hesitant. I really didn't know if I could stand to do it. My job can be emotionally exhausting as it is...and to take on a kid...a disfigured kid...a kid who reminds me a lot of people I knew...I was just worried it would be too much. And, I think, I was wary of forming an emotional bond with a client. You learn pretty quickly not to do that...because the failures hurt all the more when that happens.

But I agreed to add him to my roster. I figured I would do what was most likely best for the kid and the company.But I made it clear to my boss, in no uncertain terms, that I would do things my way. If I was being matched with this client because of our similar backgrounds...that I was going to draw on that experience and things might be a little unconventional. He agreed.

And so they have been. So much so that I conduct most of our work out of the sight and hearing of the other clients. Because I yell at him...I say some mean shit.You see...that bond I was afraid of forming...was partially already in place. Amongst soldiers...there's a bond that those on the outside just can't truly fathom.

There's a brotherhood aspect to it...that no matter how much I tried to articulate it here...it just wouldn't be adequately explained. Soldiers bust one another's balls. But they do it with love.And I am a serious ballbuster. When we are involved in physical rehab activities...I go into total D.I. mode. We trade barbs that, to outsiders, would make it appear we hate one another (and that I'm a complete asshole and martinet). The fact that we laugh our asses off over these barbs would really confuse people.A few of my coworkers who have a more touchy-feely approach (which DOES work quite well with some clients) have expressed concerns over my style here......but fuck 'em. Because what I am doing works. And it has helped. A lot. His parents have told me so in progress report meetings. They say he talks about me a lot during their visits....of course, he leaves out the ballbusting.
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Which leads me into the next part...The Kid may have to leave us. It's a long story...the short version being his parent's funding. He may have to move to a less expensive, less intensive, less well equipped facility...or even go back to being at home with only part time visiting aides, etc.And I really do not want that to happen. We've made tangible progress. His depression? He's no longer on anti-depressants. In my presence he hasn't had an angry outburst (common amongst head-injury survivors) in over a month. He can now bang out 25 push-ups when I make him (a big deal considering his muscles were weak from near atrophy when he came to us). We even toss a football around now...although...I still bust his balls when he misses an easy throw.That emotional bond you're supposed to avoid...it's kicking my ass over this. We've made real progress and I'm not ready to give up. In a job like mine...where the rewards are few...seeing improvement in someone make the whole fucking thing worthwhile.And..I don't want to lose what I've received from this relationship. I've spent a lot of time in the last decade working on veteran's issues in my spare time. Most of that consisted of letter writing. Ho hum. Here...I'm making a life better...just one life...of a kid crippled by war.And I feel more useful in that than in all those years of scribbling missives and pleas.
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As a medic...I promised the guys in my platoon that I'd always be there for them. Always. No matter what happened...I'd always do my best to help them when the shit hit the fan.It's an ethos I've tried to carry with me. I'm not done helping the Kid yet.

His parent's have yet to tell him he may have to leave. They don't want to say anything in case they can get more funding. I've already told them that if they do have to leave...I'll be by their house (they live only about 20 mins away by car from where I live). And I'll continue to work with him from time to time. His parents, bless their hearts, thought I meant as a paid employee.Anyway....I'm not done working with the Kid yet. I've got plenty more ballbusting to do.

Sometimes the world can be a big bowl of suck.