Lessons I Learned from a Navy Psychologist

All day, I have been upset, though I told no one, over issues with friends and annoying things at work. I took a late lunch, and curled up in a corner chair in a room few people go to. I finished reading Rule Number Two: Lessons I Learned in a Combat Hospital by Dr. Heidi Squier Kraft. It was recommended to me by Old Woman Marine, a frequent commenter on this blog. It is the story of Lieutenant Commander Heidi Kraft's deployment to Iraq with the Marine Corps, as she served as a psychologist in the Navy. A female Navy psychologist--exactly what I want to do.

As I read this book, a sense of fear creeped in. I kept thinking, I don't know if I can handle what a real military psychologist has to deal with... She wrote of holding the hands of dying Marines, including Corporal Jason Dunham, who received the Medal of Honor for throwing himself on a grenade to save his fellow Marines. She wrote of the fear she felt as rockets targeted her compound. She dealt with far more than the mental health ward, simply because she was serving in a combat hospital in Al Anbar Province.

I kept thinking of how hard it is in reality. People think that all psychologists do is watch patients lie on a couch and say, "And how does that make you feel?"

It's so much more than that. As I kept thinking that I don't know I can handle this, I realized that no one can. No single human being on the face of earth is cut out for the duties this job entails, but someone has to do it. I genuinely care and like Dr. Kraft, I consider it an honor to serve our U.S. Marines in any way I can.

I highly recommend this book and it made me realize that no matter what a Navy psychologist serving with a Marine unit deployed to a war torn country may have to deal with... it's all worth it.

In the final chapter, Dr. Kraft mentioned that when she got back to the United States, and resumed her regular role in a Naval Hospital, she had trouble understanding the things people would cry over. It reminded me of a way I've felt many times, yet I still sometimes slip into the hum drum of daily life. In the end, the little stuff, and even a lot of the big, does not matter. It is not worthy crying over. I was miserable over the ruination of a friendship; I've never watched my friend be shot to pieces in front of me. I was annoyed by little stupid stuff at work; my job description doesn't include being shot at. Definitely put things in perspective for me, yet again.