I believe I already mentioned how the runs of a single shift can blend together and get lost in the repetition of common complaints. One shift it seemed like every single call was for chest pain or seizures. Those particular complaints are commonly used because people feel we are compelled to transport them if have one of them as their chief complaint. We spend a lot of time differentiating between chest pain caused by hyperventilation, muscle strain or any number of other non-cardiac causes and the more serious variety actually related to the heart and possible permanent damage. Reported seizures are frequently panic attacks or even bad acting. Bit by bit we learn to look for the signs of true emergency and those of drama. An easy way to determine consciousness without moving on to actually checking for pain response-something we have to document-is to hold a person's hand above their face and then drop it. While an unconscious person will slap themselves full in the face, a conscious person will miss every time. The hand will fall close to the face and then suddenly change trajectory and normally land over the top of the head. I admit there is always an urge to try it a few times when you know a person is faking, just to see if they will let it fall too far.

After a few months of general quiet we were called on full arrests on two shifts in a row. The first call was a run we jumped due to our proximity. A 60 year-old woman went down at a nearby dialysis center. When we arrived the staff was performing CPR and had placed an oral airway (a J-shaped plastic piece that keeps the tongue out of the airway). She had already vomited and was bleeding from someplace in her mouth. A fire crew from my station arrived almost simultaneous with us and our backup unit arrived within a couple minutes. We immediately began the standard process for full arrests. One person takes care of the airway and another is responsible for gain vascular access so drugs can be administered. I took over the airway in this case. I prepared my tools to help me attempt to intubate the patient. Intubation is difficult under good circumstances an impossible other times. In this case the woman's jaw was clinched tight and her mouth was full of vomitus and blood. One thing they teach about intubation technique is to avoid using a person's teeth as a fulcrum when pulling back on your blade to open the throat so you can see the vocal chords. I remembered this point as I pushed the blade between her teeth and tried to get a view of her throat. Her jaw was clinched so tight I could barely slip anything between her teeth. Suddenly her upper teeth didn't look right-they were pointing off at an angle, all of them. It took me a second to realize they were dentures. After removing them I continued only to have the same thing happen with the bottom set. The intubation did not work because of how stiff the patient was so I used a King-tube. Normal intubation places a tube in between your vocal cords and uses a small balloon to seal off your trachea. The King-tube goes straight down the esophagus and uses two balloons to isolate the trachea. Both allow for ventilating a patient but only intubation fully protects the airway from aspiration. While I was working on the airway, my partner placed a humeral IO.

Recently we changed our process for vascular access. The old way involved attempting to start an IV which could be challenging because if you're heart is not beating your veins tend to go flat. If you couldn't get an IV after three attempts you would move on to placing an IO (intraosseous) needle in the tibia just below the knee. Now, we skip the IV attempts and place an IO needle in the humerus just below the shoulder. The placement in the humerus allows us to flow amazing amounts of fluid and moves drugs to the heart in seconds.

After three rounds of drugs and cpr we found her pulse had returned. As soon as we have the return of a spontaneous pulse we shift modes and begin working to maintain the patient instead of reviving them. We will even use saline fluid chilled to near freezing to start dropping a patient's core temperature. Research has found therapeutic hypothermia reduces damage to the nervous system after a heart attack. Another shift after we get a pulse back is to get on the road as quick as possible instead of continuing to work on the patient on scene. In this case we managed to get her to the hospital in much better shape than we found her. She was even beginning to move her hands and feet a little.

The next shift we were called for another full arrest just a block down from the Alamo. A man was seen clutching his chest on the sidewalk and then collapsing. This time we arrived shortly after Engine 1 with our backup close behind us. The process was the same as the last time but this patient reacted almost immediately and had a spontaneous pulse after just one round of drugs. Before we had finished writing our report at the hospital the patient had been moved from the ED to ICU for further observation/recovery.

Well, it's been far too long and I'm sure most of my adoring fans-all 2.5 of you, have moved on to reading material that receives more regular updates. I intend to illustrate at least a small portion of what my first few months in EMS have involved.

We followed up the excitement of seven months of class with an additional two weeks of class at the Fire Academy. After so long away from regular life at work, those above us felt it important we review concepts we may have forgotten. The two weeks were filled with useful information like how to drive an automatic transmission and what hospitals look like. These two weeks, while so deeply challenging academically, were such an improvement to the environment of the previous months. While the Lieutenant read us procedures and explained the inner workings of EMS, we crammed for the upcoming National Registry test. Bit by bit, most of us passed the test.

The National Registry is an adaptive exam. That means you sit in front of a computer clicking the mouse until the software decides your fate. A few of my classmates and I answered 80 questions, while others answered up to 150. At the end of your questions the test simply ends. No indication of success or failure is given. You have to wait and check online if you want to know your results. Happily, I passed on my first attempt which allowed me to relax for the rest of the two weeks.

We entered the field working as groups of three; two of us from the recent class and one veteran paramedic acting as a preceptor to aid in our transition to the field. For six shifts we rode in these groups until we received clearance to work independently in the field. From that point we were left to our own devices in SAEMS. Of those six shifts my second involved the most activity. The daylight hours of that shift held little of interest but that quickly changed after midnight. In the space of about four hours we made runs for a shooting, two stabbings, another assault and a DOA at a motorcycle accident. EMS is an excellent venue to prove what most parents already know: Nothing good happens after midnight. The stabbings involved a brother and sister at a party. She fought with her boyfriend, the brother got involved. The boyfriend left but, returned and stabbed them both. The assault was another fight at a different party. The DOA involved a middle-age man going home from a benefit of some sort. The problem arose when he rode his motorcycle broadside into a suburban while going approximately 90mph on a city street. The motorcycle struck the suburban at the rear tire on the driver's side. The momentum rotated the suburban 180 degrees. He died instantly of a massive heart contusion. As I wrote the run report, my partners were trying to help the man's wife understand what happened. She kept asking if she could take him home yet. The shooting later developed into a major lesson for my career.

We were dispatched to the shooting immediately after clearing the scene of the motorcycle DOA. A few minutes later we arrived on scene to find E21 performing cpr on a large man. After quickly attaching our monitor we determined he had a spontaneous pulse and respiration. We discontinued cpr and began assessing the patient. His mouth and face were covered with blood and my partner and I both had the same thought to intubate the patient. At that point we were told not to but, to continue with other interventions. I began suctioning the airway while other attempted to start an IV and we prepared to load the patient into the unit. Once inside I continued caring for the airway. My partner placed and IV and our preceptor moved up front to drive us to the nearest trauma center. The patient had a single small caliber gunshot wound directly between his upper should blades. At the time we did not know the path of the bullet. The patient remained unresponsive for the entire time we were in contact with him. We delivered the patient to BAMC alive but, still unresponsive and in rough shape. The lessons of this run came up later during a review to answer some questions about the handling of the run.

While it remains undetermined if the patient's condition would have changed with other actions, he should have been intubated. My partner and I both thought of intubation as a first and important intervention but didn't follow through when countermanded by somebody we perceived as more experienced and in a position of authority. I learned a quick and important lesson that I should trust my instincts and be aggressive in following them. During the review I learned the full extent of the patient's injuries. The bullet entered as noted, between the superior portion of the scapula. Parts of C-5 and C-6 were broken off causing partial paralysis. The bullet deflected off the vertebrae and traveled upward through the neck damaging the common carotid artery, internal and external jugular veins and fracturing the mandible. From the outside the only visible injury was the pencil eraser-sized entry wound. The source of the bleeding in the patient's airway was impossible to determine on scene. In the emergency department surgeons tied off the damaged blood vessels to control the massive bleeding. The effect of cutting off so much blood flow to the brain was the same as a massive hemorrhagic stroke. The patient lived and has a long road ahead.

After the six shift orientation period we received clearance to work unsupervised in the field. Initially, new paramedics are not allowed to work with others from the same class. For three months you can only work with partners who have more experience than you. Next shift will be my first opportunity to work with my assigned partner who happens to be out of my same paramedic class.

The shifts after the orientation all blend together as I try to think about them. Even the runs of a single shift become difficult to recall the same day they happen. The quantity and repetitive nature of so many runs make them difficult to separate. I've made a lot of runs for pains/illnesses/concerns people have had for multiple days prior to calling 911. Most people don't believe my answers about what I do during a shift. We receive dispatches for cuttings, animal bites, full arrests (heart attacks), motor vehicle collisions, etc. Some times we receive further notes on our computer screens to help us know what the call is for. Most times we have little to no information beyond the address. After we arrive at the location we generally find a situation nothing like the dispatch. The other night a stabbing was a small cut on the side of a man's finger from where he punched somebody else. Breathing problems turned out to be a five day-old fever. Some people call less than an hour after being discharged from the emergency department because, the problem hasn't gone away yet. I love the blank look on their face when I ask if they filled their prescriptions yet.

The runs that stand out right now are either the worst trauma or the ludicrous of complaints.

We arrived on scene two minutes after somebody called 911 for a woman who jumped from a parking garage. She was dead when we arrived but the circumstances were very strange as we found them. We found less than a tablespoon of blood on the sidewalk. Her injuries were very consistent and did not indicate how she fell/landed. Both ankles, her left wrist and left humerus were broken and already swollen. She had no active bleeding-until the depressed skull fracture was found later. One witness claimed to have seen her jump. Another stated he saw the woman hanging by her hands from the seventh floor ledge. The police took a lot of pictures in the back of the ambulance. The woman had no identification and no personal effects other than $1.25 in her pocket. She was clean and wearing well cared for name-brand clothing. We never heard who she was.

One night, not too long ago, we were dispatched at about 2:30 a.m. for an animal bite. En route we received further notes indicating the problem may be an insect bite. When we arrived at the address indicated, we found a young man of around 24 years standing on the sidewalk outside his home holding out his arm. He approached the ambulance and pointed to something in the crease of his elbow. We asked how we can help because we did not see anything on his arm.

He said, "I don't know if it was a heat blister or something else but I popped it and it turned red and got bigger."
"How long have you had it on your arm?"
"About two days. I don't know what it is going to turn into."
"Do you have an neosporin? Put some of that on it."
The guy had a pimple in the crease of his elbow. He popped it at which point it "turned red and got bigger." He called 911 for a zit.

Another night we worked a full arrest in the kitchen of a local restaurant. All the while other employees continued cooking, washing, prepping, etc. We're doing cpr, pushing drugs, defibrilating, and they're making tacos. At one point a girl reached over the firefighter doing chest compressions and placed a pan of hot oil on a gas burner a couple inches from one of the other paramedics. She did turn the handle of the pan out of the way. The girl didn't seem to understand why I asked her to move the pan away from us.

We delivered a baby on the first run of one shift. Well, we were there when a baby delivered itself. We walked into the house and found the mother on the couch covered with a towel from the waist down. Upon hearing that this was the eighth pregnancy with seven live births previously, we quickly brought the stretcher and our OB kit. The mother asked us to check her progress. When we lifted the towel we found the baby crowning. Less than 30 seconds later the baby slid out, went through my partners hands and landed on the stretcher (a fall of about one inch). We cut the cord, cleaned the baby boy and wrapped him up. Mom and baby made an easy trip to the hospital. That day we just happened to be riding with three paramedics. The extra set of hands was a blessing.

I'm assigned to Medic 08 (M08) on the West side of San Antonio. M08 is the 2oth busiest ambulance in the United States. Our days can be busy or quiet but most nights we work the whole night through. Much of the population in my district does not speak English. I receive plenty of strange looks when I speak Spanish.

(this is an old entry that I did not finish, this early this year)

In the ER, once again, we found a way to do something a little different than normal. A typical rotation through the ER involves walking in circles hunting for patients who you still have not interrogated. Combine my ability to calm the world around me and bored patients' ability to sleep and we quickly run out of new prey.

Just as we started our hunt on Thursday, the preceptor-I really must look up the etymology of that word-called us to wait for an incoming patient in the trauma resus. room. 41's was bringing a man with a stab wound to the neck. The patient arrived rather alert and calm but, did ask for something for the pain. The right side of his neck just below the jaw-line was beginning to swell due to a large hematoma. So much, that his trachea already visibly deviated to the left due to the pressure. One of the paramedics brought with him the steak knife responsible for the hole in the patient's neck. While the med students fussed over the injured man, we overheard a surgeon discussing what they would need to do to verify the status of the patient's internal neck structures. We jumped on the opportunity and asked to observe the surgery. To our surprise the surgeon said we could be there as long as we could find scrubs.

After a race between floors of the hospital, some fast talking and a costume change, we found ourselves in surgery scrubs and masks standing by a door marked 'Sterile'. Of course a muttering of, "Doctor, doctor" could be heard. Eventually, somebody came through the door and we asked where we should go.

Down the hall and around the corner we found Room 14 and slipped into unobtrusive positions along the wall. We quietly watched as the surgeon open the patient's neck. An incision about four inches long-almost from mandible to clavicle. The surgical cut split a large tattoo, right down the middle.

In trauma class we have watched videos of cadaver dissection. Most of the videos didn't mean anything to me. The structures don't look right on video, on a cadaver. Even more confusing is listening to a doctor (probably an excellent one) mumble because they are not actors and have no idea how to speak to a camera. I found sweating in the corner of an operating room much more informative. When the surgeon finished his exploration and was satisfied nothing critical had been damaged, we were allowed to peer into the man's open neck. Clearly visible were the muscles, nerves and various vascular structures. I can still clearly picture the parts and identify them. Time in the operating room would be a great study aid for anatomy.

After the surgery we found further details about how the steak knife wound up in the man's neck. Well, some details. The man was making a sandwich with his young son sitting on the counter nearby. At some point his son began to fall off the counter. The man lunged to catch his son without dropping the knife. I suppose he reached across his body to catch his son with the non-knife-wielding hand. In leaning over he planted his neck on top of the steak knife. While feasible, the description didn't sound particularly plausible-especially when we found out his girlfriend was on scene and apparently in a bad mood.

As I begin what will be many long years of teaching the same lesson over and over again to my beloved daughters, I'd like to thank my mother for teaching that lesson to me a long time ago. I don't know if all of my understanding of the lesson matches what she hoped to teach me the first time through, but I find it appropriate as it relates to the lives of my children and the world around me-especially when I hear discussion of politics.

One day, after I suffered some innocuous slight, perceived slight, I complained to my mother, in the favored words of a child upset when he does not get what is rightfully his, "But, it's not fair!" I cannot tell you what right I was deprived of or who enjoyed the right instead of me. Undoubtedly, it was not important in the grand or minute scale of things. As for my wise mother, she may very well have responded out of frustration for hearing yet another complaint about some such insignificant injustice. Of all the details I don't remember, I do remember her answer. I say again, the words ring true. True in so many situations. True to the world of possibilities.

My mother's words have fallen from my lips on more than one occasion as my oldest daughter points out minor deviations from level on the balance of justice. I wonder when she will remember the lesson or finally understand it.

I suppose I wonder if she will grasp its truth. Please, don't think I am doubting the mental capacity of my first-born child. She possesses an amazing intellect. She has a curiosity yet to find borders. She frequently asks for explanation or clarification of stories she hears on NPR in the morning on the way to school. While the ability to clean her room regularly and completely still taxes her, she does not lack a mind for world issues.

My question about my daughter's ability to understand the lesson taught me by my mother is due to the overwhelming number of adults who appear to have no clue whatsoever about this important, basic concept. I can't watch the news or read a newspaper without coming across a story involving adults bemoaning their current status as compared to those around them. Companies, banks, industries, unions, governments at all levels, I've read stories about all of them crying to somebody or another with the same words I used so long ago as a child, "But, it's not fair!"

As I looked up at my mom, having stated succinctly my infallible argument-an appeal sure to have any and all judgements reversed and rendered-she did something amazing in its simplicity. She agreed with me, "Life is not fair."

This explanation of economics made me laugh out loud. Some may recognize the characters, but if you don't, it's not important. The dialogue just sums it up so well. I hope you enjoy.



p.s. I'm starting a fund to support gas-fueled bees who lost their hives to foreclosure.

Delayed response is a behavior I frequently witness, but fail to understand.

Last night, while riding on the ambulance, we responded for a possible stroke. At the home, the husband, an elderly gentleman, led us to the bedroom where his wife lay awake waiting for us. A quick review of her vitals and a stroke screen showed her to have very high blood pressure and distinct left-sided weakness and facial droop. As we prepared to transport her to the hospital of her choice, we inquired about further symptoms. The husband stated he noticed her slurring words earlier in the day-about six hours prior to our response.

On many occasions we respond to help people, only to find out the emergency happened hours, or days, prior to their call for assistance. This leaves me wondering what the criteria for making an emergency call are? I'm not referring to a person's ability to cope with different situations. I understand people call us when they feel the situation goes beyond their own ability to handle it, even if one of us, in the same situation would never think to call for help (or, possibly call much sooner). I am thinking specifically of why some people call immediately when an emergency arises and others wait for some period of time to place the call.

Consider the example above. Six hours later, nothing had changed. The emergency was the same, at least as far as the couple could determine. So, why not call earlier?

Charly insists I have things to write about. That may very well be true, but I suppose the tedium of school has sapped a notable quantity of my creativity. To think, there are those who truly believe I love going to school.

Yesterday, I finally witnessed something I thought y'all might like to hear about in some sort of detail. Tuesday night I took my turn in the University Hospital Emergency Department. Generally, if I am supposed to experience some part of what being a firefighter or paramedic entails, it doesn't happen. People keep their homes, possessions, limbs, etc. Birds sing, clouds part, children laugh, brooks burble and candy just tastes sweeter. I hope you get the picture. For six of eight hours in the shift I brought near perfect peace and tranquility to the ER. We chatted with random medical patients and wrote our assessments. We made lap after lap, going from room to room, morbidly hoping for some calamity to befall an unsuspecting citizen. If not unsuspecting, maybe at least deserving? Something, anything? A fracture? A laceration? A cardiac event? Paper cut? Stubbed toe? Anybody?

Approaching the end of our shift of non-stop excitement we overheard some thing that brought a spark of interest to our eyes. One of the orthopedic residents used the words 'traction pin' and 'drill'. Hmmm... That sounds different, I thought. Then a report of a near drowning coming by AirLife. Later, an attending physician would note we weren't the only ones curious about these cases as the resuscitation room quickly filled with students of different disciplines.

I found out what a traction pin is first.

A side note, if you're squeamish, orthopedics is not a discipline to pursue. Also, if you're on the small side or unrelated to Hans and Frans and the need to be pumped up, avoid orthopedics. If you take a tour of a hospital and pay attention to the appearance of the people around you, I think you'll easily pick out those from ortho. Generally, their taller, broader and noticeably more muscular than everybody else. Oh, and they carry weights around all the time, just looking for opportunities to tie them onto people and see if they can lift them.

The patient in this case was a middle age man with closed fracture of the femur. The report was he tripped and broke his leg. Walking might have been difficult with his notable .315 blood-alcohol. Interestingly, he was awake, alert and responsive. The fracture left his left leg three inches shorter than normal. To remedy this the orthopedist decided to insert a traction pin. Ha! Insert? No, I insert IVs or thermometers. The orthopedist would not be doing anything so simple and slippery-slidey sounding. The first tool he laid on the bed was a black and yellow DeWalt 18v power drill. Are you starting to see why we were all waiting to observe this procedure? Next, the doctor marked a spot about two fingers below the knee on both sides of the tibia. After loading both sides of the leg with a large quantity of lidocaine, he prepared the site and the rest of his tools. After allowing a few minutes for the anesthetic to take effect, he began. He place a small incision at the mark on the outside of the leg. Then, he unsheathed an eight inch threaded, steel rod with sharpened ends. One end of the rod was 'inserted' into the incision until it met bone. At this point the drill was place at the other end of the rod and used to advance the rod through the tuberosity. When the point of the rod could be seen pushing on the flesh on the opposite side of the leg, another small incision allowed it to pass the remainder of the way through the leg. A little gauze bandaged the entrance/exit points. To this rod the orthopedist attached a horseshoe shaped extension and then tied a rope to it, ran the rope through a pulley suspended from an assortment of other metal implements at the end of the bed and hung some of those weights they always carry around at the other end. The alcohol on board the patient's system successfully served as anesthetic. The patient didn't flinch, despite being awake and alert the entire time. The patient in the next bed, well, he didn't exactly enjoy the procedure. We saw his heart rate jump when he heard the drill fire up.

Shortly after the traction pin insertion, AirLife arrived with the near drowning patient, who turned out to be a one year-old boy. The boy was found in the family pool after approximately one minute of unsupervised time. The parents said they were cleaning up after a barbecue and had walked into the kitchen with some dishes and returned to the patio to find their son in the water. The father immediately began aggressive CPR and the boy was responsive when the first paramedics arrived. When the boy arrived at the hospital he was doing well and seemed content to be in his mother's arms. Then the strange people started an IV, took his temperature rectally, attached a blood pressure cuff and didn't leave him in his mother's arms. He let the world know his displeasure. He should be fine with some careful observation to avoid any complications in the next few days. The father's CPR probably saved the boy's life. A locked gate or a trip inside before starting the clean up would have avoided the situation entirely.

I honestly expected to regale my hordes of adoring fans with fascinating stories and medical miracles today. Alas, it is not to be.

I arrived early at station 41 for the first of many ride-outs during my clinical rotations for paramedic class. We, the paramedics and I, waited until 8:30 for the ambulance to return to the station. Immediately, the tones went off and we headed to the scene of a car accident. I thought it was the beginning of a stereotypical, long EMS day. The accident was minor and we transported a single patient as a precaution because, she complained of head pain. En route to the hospital she shared blond jokes with us and practiced her Spanish (she was not Hispanic). With all of my new paramedic knowledge and skill, I took her vitals and laughed at her jokes (bedside manner, it is all about the bedside manner). After an easy trip to the hospital, we transferred care and left.

Returning toward the station we caught two different runs, both of which end with a cancellation before we arrived on scene. By 10:30 the ambulance was parked in the bay and the two regular paramedics were taking advantage of time at the station to rest up in case of Armageddon. I spent the remainder of my 8 hour shift waiting for runs that never came.

As a probationary firefighter, I carried peace and tranquility with me to each station I visited. Fires, major accidents and random, inexplicable emergencies happened all over the city-involving EVERY station except for the station I was at. I easily slept more than any other probie in my class. With the auspicious start to my paramedic experience today, I worry I may face a long quiet 6 months, full of peace and tranquility.

Please, for the sake of my sanity, reduce your prayers on my behalf. Or, if that does not sit well with you, consider praying for an increase of the wicked receiving there due strikings-down. I'd even settle for an epidemic of stubbed toes with mild cardiac symptoms. Please, I like my job. I'd really like to DO my job. Please.

P.S. I did get to leave a message for the woman's husband on our way to the hospital. She couldn't do it-hard to talk with a c-collar and head blocks on. "Hi, I'm with the San Antonio Fire Department. We have your wife in an ambulance on the way to Methodist Hospital. Thought you should know. Um, have a nice day."

With church attendance in general falling across the UK, an effort has been made to encourage people to go to church, any church, this Christmas season. This is one submitted advertisement. (Not LDS affiliated.)

Football match ad.

Thursday wound up as one of the more unusual days I've experienced of late. At school, I performed a surgical tracheotomy. Later, at home, I found myself alone as Charly had gone to the Relief Society Christmas social and the girls were asleep in bed. I sat down on the couch to work on Logan's Santa Claus outfit for the school play. I flipped through a few channels to find something to watch while I worked. I found a show I asked Charly to record for me.

On CNN, 'Scream Bloody Murder' had just started. The show dealt with genocide in a variety of places around the world. The horrors of WWII and the origination of the word genocide formed the introduction.

Genocide did not exist in vocabularies until Raphael Lemkin coined it in 1944 by combining the Greek, génos for family or race and the Latin, cide for massacre. Lemkin lost 49 relatives in actions by Germany and the Soviet Union. He worked for years to gain worldwide recognition for the concept of genocide and to ban it through international law as outlined in Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. Unfortunately, many instances of genocide have occurred since WWII and the outlawing of such a despicable act.

The show focused on the people who took notice of events, recognized genocide and called for international action. In each case the countries of the world either did not listen or turned a blind eye when the situation interfered with other political implications.

The stories of Iraq, Darfur, Rwanda, Bosnia, Germany and Cambodia (of which I take personal interest) demonstrated time and again the political ineptitude of nations. In one instance Christiane Amanpour asked a former official of the U.S. government if there is ever a time to decide strictly based on morality, to just do the right thing? The answer was simultaneously shocking and expected. He shortly dismissed the thought.

In more than one instance the U.S. had a direct role in the propagation of the circumstances that led to genocide. Similarly, some of the situations continued when leaders would not act because it seemed politically inexpedient. At one point the U.S. was funding Sadam Hussein's actions in Iraq because, Iraq was willing to fight Iran. A corrupt regime in Cambodia received U.S. backing because it fit our goals against Vietnam. Action was delayed in Bosnia because European allies didn't find it expedient. (I can add another instance of a U.S. supporting role leading to terrible consequences in Chile. Not genocide but, many people died unjustly.)

I knew a man who fled the Khmer Rouge and lost family to their murderous plan. I visited sites of Nazi atrocities. Even if you have never met the people involved or visited the places, it should still be impossible to accept the inaction of so many.

I don't know where this places me politically but, I find myself in disagreement with how we play our role policing the world. I understand the need to protect our allies and national security and even possibly our interests, whatever that actually means, but, not at the expense of morality. I believe we can play many important international roles. I think we should take a careful look at the status of our own country. Any actions we take throughout the world need constant scrutiny and review, be it alliances, aid or military. History has shown, as a government are not as adept and pulling strings as we may wish to be. We should be allies with those who invite us. I agree with offensive and defensive military action when necessary. Just temper everything with constant attention and pay attention to the voices that call attention to atrocities as they begin. Don't wait for them to grow out of control.

Oddly, maybe, I found my testimony of Jesus Christ strengthened. As I watched the repeated instances of human weakness and Satan's powerful influence, I thought of the most basic teaching of our Savior. So many problems could be solved if we would place God first and do unto others as we would have done unto us. Simplify our lives and clear out the clutter that our ears can be opened to hear the spirit and hear the voices who cry out in dark moments.

So, there I was. I learned to do surgical tracheotomies. I was sewing a Santa costume in front of the Christmas tree. A show about genocide was on the t.v.

If you happen to find the show replayed, I suggest you watch it.

Just a little to think about.