I love my sister dearly. She has been stronger in many ways over the past fifteen years than I probably ever will be.
She got married early - and yes, the proverbial shotgun wedding - to an Army dude she had been dating right there in Colorado Springs, where she and I went to high school. That was 1993 - and now she's still married to the same guy, living in Charleston, three kids (17, 14, & 11), and a really nice life. Nice big house, nice schools, nice church... everything you can think of that a family needs - or even just wants - they have. I've never been jealous of that, but I have been proud as hell of how things have turned out for her.
Her youngest, Micah, was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease a few years ago. Needless to say, it's made things tough for the family. And poor Micah... God, sometimes I really have to struggle just keeping my shit together when I think of all he's been through this early in life.
He's undergone several different treatment regimes since he was diagnosed, each with success... for varying lengths of time. The thing with Crohn's, I guess, is that eventually the treatment becomes inneffective, and you have to search for a different solution. There's one out there that could fix things for Micah, and he's in line to get it soon at Duke University... but I digress.
In June, Micah got to take a trip to NYC thanks to the Make-A-Wish foundation. He (with mom & dad) got to go see My Chemical Romance in concert, and go backstage to meet the band. After talking to them for a bit, the guitarist asked if Micah would play something for them... so he did.
Three or four minutes and a kickass rendition of Ozzy's "Ironman" later, there was much applause being rained down on little Micah. After which, said guitarist told him "I'm so jealous of you, dude. I couldn't play "Ironman" until I was, like, nineteen!"
Fast forward to this month. My brother-in-law had been on some bereavment leave from work, due to his father's recent death. They were very close, and I have no doubt that he was in A Very Bad Place, mentally. The day he returned, he was given two weeks' notice and shitcanned. His employer cited skyrocketing costs of insurance for him and his family, to wit: Micah's medical expenses.
Before you ask: yes, they're already talking to a lawyer!
But for now... it's been a few weeks. Charleston has no real market for a man with his skills, and the "desired endstate" (to coin a very Marine Corps phrase) is to avoid relocation at all costs. Zach, the eldest kid, is a Senior in high school this year. The family has been in Charleston since 2004 - they've all established friends and networks, and it would just be too traumatic to uproot everyone to, say, Sheboygan.
I'm deeply concerned, no doubt. But I'm not horribly worried.
If you're the prayin' type, maybe you could start throwin' her and her family in your rotation.
Micah, February 2007, Camp Lejeune. I was happy as hell to have him help see me off on Iraq deployment #2.
On a separate (but closely related) note: you may or may not know that my current job has me supervising combat-wounded and ill or injured Marines. I've got what might be the most job satisfaction I've ever had in my life doing what I do right now. I don't personally know what it's like going through the entire limited duty/physical evaluation process - and what can I say? I zigged when I should have zigged - but I do feel like I have credibility, given my two year-long tours in Iraq. No, I wasn't kicking in doors and killing bodies... but I volunteered each time and GLADLY accepted the chance to get in the fight.
All that aside... I feel honored and privileged to have the job I do rigght now. The Mission of my unit is twofold: Ensure each Marine/patient is accounted for at all times, and ensure that they have every tool, resource, and benefit available to them on their road to recovery. In short, we get them out of there quickly and in the right way as they head back to their unit or head home medically retired or discharged.
As it turns out, I do have a Marine (let's call him Corporal D.) under my charge. He's also been diagnosed with Crohn's. It fucking wrecks me deep down inside to know that a 21-year-old is stuck for life having to deal with a colostomy bag. It wrecks me even worse to know that this guy enlisted post-9/11 and never got to deploy or get into the fight because of his condition.
All I'm sayin' is... someday, I'm going to make sure that Micah gets to spend a day with Corporal D. I think it could do them both a lot of good... and I'm damn sure it'd do me a world of good.
Quotation of the moment: (Overheard at work yesterday) "I wish my grass was as emo as you, so it'd cut itself."
Song of the moment: "Na", Zazie
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