Night Shift Scare: Journal 2/3/06

Posted by Ms. Babble

February 3, 2006

They’ve kicked us out of the clinic building. Well, only temporally it seems.

As far as my understanding goes, the buildings we are occupying here were used in the past by the Iraqi’s when they occupied this base way back when. So, needless to say, they need a bit of remodeling. They are shuffling the units around from building to building to do work on the quickly degrading rock pile we call a medical clinic.

That being said, all of our equipment and personel are now operating out of an adjacent building about 50 meters away. Did I say ALL of our personel? Let me rephrase. Everyone except for the commo desk. My workplace. Me.

I’ve been on the night shift for 4 nights now. Normally it’s the most sought after shift since it’s very relaxing and medical emergencies rarely ever come in. The radios tend to be very silent and there’s little worry of leadership asking you to do this or that or the other. It’s a good time to catch up on your reading, watch a movie, or write a blog.

But for the last couple of nights it’s been a bit eery… There are no medics here… no equipment… just little ol’ me with my little ol’ radios and my little ol’ rifle. Usually people are wandering the halls in an insomiac haze. People looking for a chat to help them sleep or the night crew sweeping the floors. But right now, I can hear every little noise throughout the building as it echos loudly without any gear stopping the sound waves.

At the main door we’ve posted a sign and a little map directing people to the new clinic building. But as to be expected in a foreign country, many of the patients we treat don’t speak english. (Imagine that!) So at my little desk far down the end of the hallway, I occasionally hear the shuffle of feet on the dusty sand glazed floor. shoosh shoosh shoosh…. I suprised myself last night when the familar dragging of feet echoed down at me and I actually felt scared.

I can honestly say that for the first time since I’ve been here I felt the kind of panic that zips through your fingertips. The kind that festers in your stomach and makes your legs feel weak. Even during my first stint on tower guard, I didn’t feel quite as panicky as I did the other night. Perhaps it was the 3am haze or the way I was totally engulfed in whatever I was reading at the moment. But all of a sudden it hit me that I was the only one here. How hard would it be for someone to just come in here and do something? How long would it be before someone knew anything was amiss? Who would I even yell for?

As I peaked up over my desk, a bearded man with a flashlight on his head was coming towards me. As I started to half stand in my chair I reached behind me to my weapon. (hahaha… I actually reached for my rifle!! This part just kills me.) He was in civilian cloths so I couldn’t immediately tell if he was Iraqi or American. He looked a bit squirrely in the eyes and that cave explorer flashlight on his forehead didn’t help any! Of course I know that the last thing you want a stranger to know is that you’re scared. And I also know that the smartest thing to do with a potential attacker is to look them in the eyes and speak. Intimidation is everything and if you present yourself in this way, they will most likely know that you aren’t an easy target. So this is exactly what I did.

As it turns out, he’s the locksmith working on the other building. The frickin’ locksmith just dropping off the new keys to me.Â ha!

It isn’t unusal for the civilian workers to be doing jobs at night since they work 24 hours just as we do. I got myself all worked up for nothing! And as he left and I thought about it, I remembered then that I was told the locksmith would be dropping by that night. I got all worked up for nothing. But it is a bit disconcerting when non-english speakers wander into this building late at night. Usually all I can make out is “cramps” or “leg”. Since all the arabic I remember from training is “aw-kuff” (stop), I’m at a loss for communication. I can only point them in the direction of the other building.

I would expect this sort of reaction from anyone here. Male or female. We feel safe here 99% of the time, but it’s amazing that the blanket of safety truely comes in numbers. No matter if I was in Iraq or in America, it’s only natural to feel a bit of panic when all you have to rely on is yourself. And I really do have confidence in myself. I’m not afraid to “talk” to the Iraqis or anyone here, for that matter. It was a good lesson the other night. To see my reaction. To see if I would present myself in the way I was taught.

Slowly, so very slowly, the bubble is dissolving around me.

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