I have had an up and down flu season. I have been down hard with the flu once, had another mild case, and missed the Army ten miler because of it. James and Jay Allen both had a case of it, with James spraying our dinner with chocolate milk a few weeks ago. The wet rainy weather has brought us more cold and coughing and I am tired of it. Cammie has been sick two or three times herself and Carlie had a bad cold a couple of weeks ago. We need sunshine and health.
In trying to get back to normal, I decided to take my Army Physical Fitness Test this Thursday. I always enjoy preparing for an APFT and have lost about nine pounds since last week in preparing for this one. I am hungry and lean, but I am not full speed and I do still have a cough. So, I wanted to check in at the clinic to make sure that I wouldn't collapse a lung while running Thursday morning. In the DC area, this can be a logistical feat on par with keeping up with Patton's advance. I had to get reassigned from one clinic to another, which took four phone calls and one hour. Since my family already goes to this new clinic, I told the person on the phone that I knew most of the doctors were from India, but if she could assign me to one from Southern India, I think he could understand my Alabama accent better. She laughed, but I think she complied. I then had to go claim my medical records, which took an hour of driving and 15 minutes on site. The young sailors manning the records section had mine ready, so once I arrived they stuck my records out the service window and I picked them up like I would grab a super-sized value meal from my favorite fast food restaurant. I was pumped up at this show of military efficiency that is so rare in DC (Good job, Navy)! I was smoking! Now, just a 45 minute drive to the new clinic to hand over my records and get checked out.
As I was plugging my address into the GPS, I looked at my medical records and noticed something disturbing. For twenty years, I have worn my blood type on my dog tags as O-Negative. I looked down at my medical records and saw prominently written, O-Positive! What in the wide world of sports was going on? I confirmed with two competent medical authorities that your blood type can not just change. Navy, what have you done to my records? This was the most disturbing development in my records since I PCS'ed (the military term for "moved") from Fort Benning with somebody else's medical records - I will stop and explain that before I continue.
In 2002, I went to see the doctor with some severe allergies. He asked me some strange questions that caused me to glance at the records he had on me. Correct last name, correct last four of my social, but wrong soldier. So, there was a Sergeant Benefield at Fort Benning who shared my last four. That was interesting, but no harm done. The doctor quickly saw the mistake and exchanged his records for mine in the first minute of the appointment. I was thereafter careful to check the name on my records and cracked them open every time to make sure I had my own.
When I PCS'ed in 2003, I did indeed crack open my records and checked to make sure the Benefield listed on the outside was described as Eric J. on the inside. Good to go! I hand carried the records to Robbins Air Force Base and in-processed flight medicine right away.
As they were entering my information into the medical system, the records clerk asked me how I liked Augusta, Georgia. I answered, "Don't know, never been there." He responded, "Weren't you born there?" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I grabbed my records back and looked at the top few pages. Eric J. - just as it should be. But, after the first 5-10 pages, Sergeant Benefield! They had been mixing and matching our records for over two years! I would have thought that the medical geniuses who were looking right at me would have picked up on the fact that I am not a 6'4" black man, but at least they figured out that I was not born in Augusta. And I bet Sergeant Benefield was relieved at his next medical appointment to hear that his cholesterol was much better and he could come off the meds, but bad news - the Army had transformed him into a white man!
So now, after the Military medical system has changed my race (and Sergeant Benefield's), they have now changed my blood type! For twenty years, O-negative. Now, O-Positive! When was the mistake made? So today, after the doctor (from Southern India) assured me that I wouldn't collapse my lungs running Thursday, I asked the doctor how this could happen. She was not sure, but sent me to the lab to get blood-typed. People with twenty years service don't get blood-typed, so I am sure Ahmed, the lab technician, is now convinced I am some kind of secret operative or in some kind of military witness protection program. To be fair to Ahmed, I am confused myself.
So, I had to get blood drawn. I am not an "easy stick" and today was not a good day. Ahmed stuck my left arm and began moving that needle as if he had hooked a small mouth bass and was trying to pull it out of my arm. With as little emotion as possible, I told Ahmed, "That is mighty painful." He had trouble understanding me and asked, "It hurts?" I said, "Yes it does. I will jump and down and yell as if I were being tazed if that helps paint the picture." He quickly withdrew the needle and explained that my vein rolled. Oh, well, if I had known that, I would have brought my own clothes pin to hold it in place, but I really had no idea that my blood type was in question and that I would have blood drawn! I just came in with a cough!
Ahmed stuck me in the right arm with great efficiency, drew my blood, and sent me on my way. I did have bandages on both arms, but he gave me a Dragon Tales band-aid for my left arm and that made the small-mouth bass boo-boo all better.
So tonight, I sit here at home unsure if I am positive or negative. Based on past experiences with military medicine, I am braced for any result. I wouldn't be surprised to get my results back and learn that I am pregnant! White to black, negative to positive, why not dad to mom? Just kidding. I just had to share this crazy day with my friends so something good (like a smile or laugh) could come of it.
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