Stories I Wish I Could Tell My Dad: Diary of a Military and Federal Physician

By Richard Jones MD

"Stories I Wish I Could Tell My Dad" is an unforgettable memoir about the author's career as a physician. Richard Jones practiced clinical medicine for nearly three decades, and has experience ranging from the US Navy to the CIA. His father loved stories. However, illness took him away before he had the opportunity to hear tales about his son's professional and family life. In this compelling book, Jones shares the remarkable stories that his father was never able to hear.

Throughout his career, Richard Jones has always tried to offer the best medical care, tolerate the senseless bureaucracy of the US government, and manage to find humor in it all. He's been through good and bad, both at home and overseas. After a long and decorated career, he's left with wisdom and most importantly, stories. Stories are reflections of who we are, where we have been, and who we have become. In this book, he shares these timeless stories with you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098388478

Book preview

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The events and conversations in this book

have been set down to the best of the author’s ability,

although some names and details have been changed

to protect the privacy of individuals.

Copyright © 2021 by Richard Jones, MD

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-09838-847-8

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner

except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information contact:

[e-mail]

FIRST EDITION

Cover design by Carolyn Henckel

Cover photography by Goami/Shutterstock.com

Author portrait photography by Antonio Martez

Copy editing by Andrea/YellowBook.com,

Carolyn Henckel and James Jones

Contents

About the Author

Introduction

PART ONE

When the Beatings Continue Until Morale Improves

Nobody Asked Us to Do Anything

Navy Ships Float on Paperwork

No Paycheck

Just Buy the Canteen

Your Helicopter Is on Fire

It’s Broken

What Is an Expert?

Trauma Victim in The Desert

No, You Are Not Disabled

The Blind Helmsman

Newlywed Chef

Wedding Ring

Pain in the Neck

Military Math

Jail Clearance

Submarine One

Submarine Two

Condemned Building One

Las Vegas One

Condemned Building Two

Chair Force vs Marines

Self-Fixing Problems

Smoking Is Good for Your Career

Military Malnutrition

Security Clearance

Moving One

Lost Luggage

Moving Two

Biological Weapons

Chemical Weapons

Nuclear Weapons

Helicopter Dunker

Spin and Puke

Ejection Seat

Physical Fitness

Family Advocacy

Fainting One

Aircraft Engines

Basic Supplies

Broken Refrigerator

No Wheelchair

Immunizations

Snake Antivenom

No Reward

PART TWO

There has got to be a better way

Attitude Adjustment One

Dad

Attitude Adjustment Two

PART THREE

There is a better way

Father’s Day

Waterpark One

Seated Next to Satan

Waterpark Two

No Molestar

Unexpected Treasure

Water Park Three

Best. Job. Ever.

Stick with Bubba

Italian Men

The Doctor Has A Gun

Orange Robes

The Airline Headset

The Man in The Green Blazer

Hand Sanitizer

Quality Time

Maybe I Finally Caught That Fish

Crop-Dusting

Turndown Service

Colorado

Simple Pleasures

Colonoscopy

Bachelor in A Minivan

Al Jazeera Holiday

Mom’s Birthday

Winning in Vegas

North Carolina Vacation

Mansplaining with The Hulk

Wake Up with The Sun

Fainting Two

I Don’t Hate Sunday Anymore

Locks of Love

Favorite Patients

Pie for Breakfast

Thanksgiving Overseas

Only One Shoe

Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day

23rd Psalm

No Radio

No More Minivan

Shipping Container

Novel Coronavirus

The Conclusion

About the Author

Richard Jones is a Family Physician with a public health background who worked with the US Military, diplomatic, and intelligence communities in a variety of roles at both overseas and domestic locations for nearly three decades.

In addition to practicing clinical medicine on four continents, he is the coauthor and editor of dozens of classified written products and in-person briefings that helped shape policy at the highest levels of the US government.

He is the recipient of National Defense Service Medals, Navy and Marine Corps Overseas Service Ribbons, a Navy Pistol Sharpshooter Ribbon, an Armed Forces Reserve Medal, a Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, Meritorious Unit Commendations, and multiple Exceptional Performance Awards.

Introduction

I wrote this material in bits and pieces over the years but finally finished it after retiring from the federal government. It started as a running blog of events highlighting my struggles with bureaucracy as well as fun things I did with my family. There were a few recurrent themes. Recognizing that there were more triumphs than regrets. Finding humor in the absurdity. Addressing the anger and the burnout. Having more conversations with my children than I had with my father. Enjoying the simpler moments. Finding renewed strength in the company of people who mattered.

The stories are roughly chronological. However, there is no real connection between them, other than they happened in the random way events occur. Life happened.

I occasionally and shamelessly used some artistic license to combine some disparate smaller events in order to pull a larger story together. No apologies.

This book is meant to be read aloud, s-l-o-w-l-y. The style is simply the way I would speak. In my head, these are Stories I Wish I Could Tell My Dad.

PART ONE

When the Beatings Continue

Until Morale Improves

Nobody Asked Us to Do Anything

On September 11th, 2001, I was a medical officer (physician) in the United States Navy working at the Patuxent River Naval Air Station, which is about sixty miles from Washington, DC. I was drinking a cup of coffee, watching the morning news, and getting ready for a car trip to visit coworkers at the medical clinic at the Pentagon. However, I saw the fires and chaos in New York on television and decided to drive to work in Maryland instead.

When word came that the Pentagon had also been hit by an airplane, my stomach sank because I was supposed to be in the middle of that building. People I knew were there. So, I asked when we would be leaving to help. They said nobody had asked us to do anything.

I said we had search and rescue crews and helicopters here that could launch to help. We could be there in half an hour. Again, they said nobody had asked us to do anything.

I then told them we had F-18 fighter jets that could do a fly-by of the Pentagon and give some moral support to those on the ground who were expecting another plane to hit. Their answer: Nobody asked us to do anything.

I said the people on the ground are pulling bodies out of a burning building and need help. I got the same answer.

I said the F-18 jets could get on the radio after their fly-by to say that we own this airspace. Any other plane in the sky, if it flies, it dies. They said… Well, I think you know the answer by now.

I said that nobody knows we exist or knows to ask. They said that nobody asked us to do anything and I had better watch my mouth.

I never believed that anyone was unmotivated or unpatriotic that day. I never believed that I had all the answers either. However, I just thought that the US military would respond to an attack on US soil by using its assets to help. I was wrong.

Instead, during a tragic occasion in which capability, training, and expertise mattered, they closed the air station and sent everyone home.

I found out later from my Navy medical coworkers at the Pentagon that they absolutely, positively needed our help.

They described the chaos and the fear.

They described being unable to see where they were going in a building that was on fire.

They described how their plastic and rubber shoes melted and stuck to their burned feet from the heat of the floor.

They mostly described the smell.

Navy Ships Float on Paperwork

There was no specific orientation or training required to be a physician on a US Navy warship. I just walked on and was the doctor. I never told anybody how to steer the ship, and nobody ever told me how to practice medicine on board. That part was never complicated.

I learned that warships are really complicated inside, learned that it’s easy to get lost because there are no windows, that metal objects that sit in saltwater for decades rust all the way through.

I learned that anything made by the lowest bidder breaks.

Learned that Navy ships do not float on water—they float on paperwork.

Learned to fill a pitcher with warm water before bathing so that if the water stopped flowing in the middle of a shower, at least I could still rinse myself off.

Learned that our government may be guided by democracy, but Navy ships are not.

Learned that sometimes toilets flush, and sometimes they don’t, that sewage and trash can either sink or float, but either way, you should not swim near a harbor.

Learned that the phrase curse like a sailor really means something. Learned that there are acronyms for almost everything.

Learned that if we were ever