To my angels

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and thank you so much for the overwhelming amount of cards! It is very uplifting to my heart...Even more so since I will not get to spend Christmas with my family in Oregon.

I will tell a bit about my history! I was born into this world on October 1st, 1988. I am one girl of four boys and the second oldest. I grew up on a 200acre dairy farm, though we also had ducks, chickens, pigs, goats, dogs and cats( the goats were my babies :) ).
My brothers ages are (soon to be) 10, 13, 16 and 21.
Growing up, my mother home schooled all of us but we played sports. I ran cross country and wrestled with the high school team and my little brothers wrestle, and the 16 year old dances and plays baseball.



On July 30th, 2006 I left for basic training with the Army. Though I had signed up with the Army in March of 2006. I was 17 and made a bet with my dad that if I got my pilot's license before turning 18, he would sign the paperwork allowing me to join. Mom was none to pleased to find this out AFTER dad said it was okay.


It was not my first time away from home but it was the last time I would call home, MY home... I was ready for my new life to start and I went in with a strong will and knowing God would protect me. Basic training was a blast! To me it felt more like a (harder) summer camp then what a military training camp should be, but I wasn't going to voice that to the girls that were crying every night.

Basic training ended and I moved to AIT (Advanced Individual Training) to learn the skill I had signed up for in the Army. 25L- Cable installer/maintainer or Cable dawg I would soon find out they are called. Training was a cake walk and I became the honor graduate of my class, missing distinguished honor graduate by a .5% grade.


I got my orders to report to my new duty station before the year was up and would get to spend Christmas with my family one last time. On Jan 2nd, 2007 I reported to Fort Huachuca, AZ and soon things fell into place. Some of the guys I went through AIT with had also reported there and things were going smoothly. I made new friends and my NCO was an amazing guy.


But things started to take a change for the worse. I started getting sick...very sick. I would eat and could not keep it in my stomach...I felt weak, tired and sick to my stomach. I would go to sick call and they would run a few tests but would tell me "Oh there is nothing wrong with you" or "your to young to be sick, go back to work". Frustrated, I pressed on. Sometimes I would go 3 or 4 days without eating, because the pain and sick that came with eating wasn't worth it.
Test after test was ran, but everything came back normal, and the same thing was said to me by the doctors.

Finally word of a deployment came up and soon we got our orders for a 15 month deployment to Iraq. Our unit readied itself and on Dec 8th, 2007 we hugged our loved ones one last time then departed for the sea of desert and sand. We spent a cold Christmas with each other as company in Baghdad, Iraq and depressed hearts. Soon we were settling into a way of life for the next 15 months.
As for me, I kept getting sicker but was keeping it to myself as best I could. My NCO could see the weight loss and energy loss, and tried to help me as best he could. I had one Sargent ask me if I was making myself throw up by looking for attention ( they would see me eat, then 5Min's later go to the restroom )...My NCO flipped out on him. My NCO feels like a big brother sometimes!





Finally after 4 months of being down range, I'm so sick and weak, before going to bed for the morning ( I worked nights) I tell myself I should go to sick call and get some IV fluid. I had been throwing up and couldn't even keep water in my stomach and it's very bad to be dehydrated in Iraq. I get to sick call and the medics take one look at me and start me up on some saline and tell me they are going to take some blood to send to the lab. Two hours later and next thing I know they are telling me they are going to medivac me to another FOB because they think my gall bladder ruptured. My white blood cell count is through the roof, and so they juiced me up and strapped me to a litter and threw me in a blackhawk.

After getting to this FOB they hit me up with some more saline bags and take me to get an ultra-sound of my gall bladder. But as the tech is looking, he tells me my gall bladder is fine, so I ask why are you still looking. He then rushes out saying he needs another person to look at this. After about 15 or 20Min's of them looking, they tell me they want a CT done of my stomach and that I'll have to stay over night to talk to the head surgeon in the morning, but they can't tell me what they've found.
That morning I finally see the surgeon and the first thing he tells me, "hun I'm not going to sugar coat this for you" and went on to tell me they had found a 4cm tumor on the head of my pancreas. I was going to be medivaced to Walter Reed in Washington DC and have a very hard surgery to remove it. IF I was lucky and they had found this in time, hopefully chemo would save me and I could recover from this.
I took this in, listening carefully...I was so glad to finally have a reason for being sick, that I wasn't just making it up or looking for attention. So when he asked if I had any questions, I asked just one. "Sir, will I get to come back to Iraq and be with my unit?" He looked at me like I was a crazy person and said "Most people are crying and begging to be sent home and yet you ask if you can come back...Are you serious? No you won't be coming back, You'll be lucky to survive your surgery".
Haha! Some people need to laugh more, I think!
That night I was put on a blackhawk for balad and from balad I was on a C-130 to Germany and Germany to DC. I've been at Walter Reed since March 28th, 2008. OH...I was medivaced on Easter Sunday...A Sunday I won't forget and a story I'll be telling my grandchildren.

On May 20th, 2008 I had my cancer surgery. It lasted 9 1/2 hours long and they were able to remove all of the tumor. I did not need chemo but I still have a lot of problems with eating. The docs don't know if its because of the tumor or because of something else, but we are trying to figure it out. I'm still getting a lot of tests done on me and on quite a bit of meds. I hope we can figure out what is going on with my body, I really love food!




I miss working, and I miss my NCO...If it weren't for him, I would have more then likely died. But quitting is not an option, I've come this far and been through pain that was unspeakable.


Thank you for your kind words and beautiful cards! I have included a few pictures and again thank you for being my angels...Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving and a very Merry Christmas!

Respectfully,

SPC Neary, Cat

To honor a fallen comrade

Only god knows why when its time to lose another person so dear to our hearts.
We all know we must die, but none of us know when it will be our turn to go on or if we will be spared against all odds.
But we use this time to come together, to remember our fallen friend and sustain each other, through our relationship as brothers and sisters in arms.

When I was medivaced to walter reed, I was sick, alone and scared. But not for long
I soon found out Muse was there for his surgery too,
and it really helped to finally get back to a place where I could face this with an old friend and comrade by my side.

I want to tell you about something real important Muse did for me, just by being himself and being my friend.
You see the docs told Muse that he would more then likely be in the hospital for two weeks if the operation was a success and that the risks were very high.
Yet just 5 days after his surgery, he and I were walking through DC visiting the war memorials.

Walking past the monuments, sometimes Muse would wobble on his feet and when I would ask "Are you okay?" he would just reply "I feel great!" and then laugh.
He always had a silly grin on his face and a smart al-ick joke to go with it.
We spoke of home and how quite fort huachuca was after B co deployed. He felt ashamed for not being able to go with us, but was just glad to finally be getting help.

He told me he had been scared he wouldn't wake up from his surgery, but he didn't want to show that to his parents.
Still he knew he needed this operation and pushed his fear to the side and moved forward with his mission. And there he was 5 days later, with me touring DC.

As the day went on he showered me with punches, hugs, jokes, pinches and big grins. He felt more like a big brother and a best friend, not just a soldier and co worker.
His strength and good spirits were inspiring to me and would help sustain me as I lay in agonizing pain in my hospital bed after my own surgery the following month.

I know a person who believes that sometimes we are called upon to be each others angels in this life. That there will be times, without knowing it or doing anything extraordinary we can be heros just by being ourselves, helping a friend, inspiring or lending them the strength to keep fighting, or showing them a way through difficulty when it doesnt look clear. We become an instrument of something bigger then ourselves.
On that day, he was mine.