The Sergeant Major

One morning I sped to work with rock/heavy metal blaring, not because I was late but because the adrenaline adds a nice kick to my two cups of coffee, kinda like chicory in Louisiana coffee.  At 5:30 AM I  take all the help I can. I received my report from my night-shift counter part.  She gave the name and diagnosis, Guillan Barre, and..... "I don't know who he is but he has a bunch of visitors in Army uniforms that came to visit him...." WHAT? This is a liberal, non-military town.  Whatever.  Moving on.

Grabbed my third cup of coffee, before 7AM.  Move on down the lane.  One ventilator patient, then another...

Then, the Sergeant Major.  He sure didn't look like my usual patient profile, then his mom came from nowhere and doted on him, that was so sweet.  Then she pointed out he was a Sergeant Major in the US Army. What did you say? Holy Cow! I don't know what to say, I don't remember what I said but that was "The Spark".

I instantly felt bad about my entire enabling career that started after I was discharged from the Army.  They paid me well, they treated me well but truthfully I was a part of the big machine enabling the low functioning part of our society to continue doing what they do best, killing themselves.  All the while real American heroes are separted from their families and putting their asses on the line so the average, lazy American can continue to be a cancer on our country.  I was instantly disgusted during that brief intereaction and my midlife crisis began...