War without end
Damaged soldiers start their agonizing recoveries
Joan Ryan, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Washington, D.C. — Army Sgt. Michael Buyas stared at the new guy in the physical therapy room at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. He looked bad, even for this place, where everyone was hacked up and missing legs, arms, hands, feet. Michael was used to the room now, but at first it seemed like a sci-fi human body shop, where broken people came for patching and rebuilding. The newest arrivals wore hospital gowns, their wounds sometimes still raw and gaping. Most, though, looked like men stopping at the gym on the way home from work, except no one had a complete body. They walked the treadmills on their spindly titanium legs or shifted from their wheelchairs onto weightlifting machines, trading insults the way young men do.
There was something so familiar about the new guy. Michael was sure he knew him and almost could hear himself saying his name. But it kept slipping away, as a dream does when you wake up. The guy couldn't be too new because he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. But he was gaunt and blank-eyed. His shoulders seemed barely thicker than a coat hanger. His hands were all bones and scabs. His left arm, encased in a blue plastic brace, rested on a pillow.
From his left ear down across his cheekbone ran a thin scar the dark gray color of a rifle barrel, evidence of shrapnel embedded in the skin. He had a bald patch on the back of his head, the telltale sign of months in bed.
He was sitting on one of the padded tables in the center of the room. He had one amputation above the knee and one below, same as Michael. He was lifting small plastic cones from a stack on his right and placing them atop a stack on his left, an exercise, Michael knew, to teach him how to keep his balance now that his center of gravity had changed.
Michael had done the exercise himself early on in his stay at Walter Reed, the stately campus of brick buildings in Washington, D.C., where the Army sends its most seriously injured soldiers. It was April 2005, more than four months since an improvised explosive device blew up the 16-ton armored Stryker in which Michael was riding.
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http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/03/26/MNSOLDIERS26.DTLWar without end / Damaged soldiers start their agonizing recoveries
St. Michael Buyas, with sons Jaiden (left) and Justin, says that in his dreams he still has legs. In waking moments, he worries about how he'll teach his three boys wrestling, his favorite sport in high school. Michael's legs were blown off by an improvised explosive device just before Christmas 2004 in Iraq. Chronicle photo by Michael Macor
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http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/c/a/2006/03/26/MNSOLDIERS26.DTL&o=0This is part one of a series...
http://www.sfgate.com/warwithoutend/The Series
Part One
Walter Reed Army Medical Center is where many of the war's most damaged soldiers start their agonizing recoveries.
Part Two
Being a hero in central Washington state is a thrill, but for Michael, the challenges of having a young family, no career and no legs can be overwhelming.
Part Three
Brent finds that in plunging back into the bar scene at home in Arizona his relationship with his mother strains to the breaking point. nervous.
Part Four
Perhaps the biggest milestone is joining fellow soldiers and remembering how, even without legs, to stand tall.
Casualties
From March 19, 2003 to March 22, 2006
Dead: 2,319
Wounded: 17,269
Amputees: 454
Amputees who have lost more than one limb: 62
Sources: Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Brookings Institution, Department of Defense