Chapter 22: Expecting and not really Instructing

Over the months, I became comfortable with my job. My job was like Groundhog Day. Came in at 0730. Go into Intel and download secured messages and disseminate them. Scanned all my useless paperwork to the paper pushers at the Consolidated Admin. Changed over into PT gear. Stretched, ran, did some weight lifting, sat in the sauna with the I&I. Showered. Ate. Came back at 1300. Drove to DFAS. Hung out at Supply. Go back to my desk. Do a little work. Call it a day. Next day, repeat.
I think I was the only person that looked forward to performing funerals or color guards. It got me out the office for a majority of day and it broke up the boring schedule that was my norm. The only time that it really sucked was when we had to carry a 450 lb casket up a steep hill in perfect Marine Corps precision, in full Blues in 110 degree weather. My M-14 would never go off  if it was colder than 32 degrees outside, which made me hate performing funerals in cold weather. Nothing like giving the salute for a fallen Marine and only one shot goes off. Epic.
Drill weekends eventually got better. I tried to instill as much order as possible and it started working. I was no longer Corporal Hitler, except to those who weren't in my circle of cool people. If you weren't in my circle, I would intimidate the hell out of you - and I enjoyed it! It was like a turn on. I loved seeing a young kid shake in terror at my counter. It just made my day perfect. I think the I&I Staff Marines were rubbing off on me. They were such great teachers. I learned my apathetic attitude from them and I was a great learner.
But like everything else in life, karma will come back and get you. And karma got me a couple of times. I got married the following Spring after joining the staff. A few weeks after my wedding, I was sent back to Camp Johnson, NC for a Reserve Admin Course. While I was there, I felt sick all the time. I woke up feeling sick, I would sit in class and feel sick, and I would go back to the barracks and sleep it off. In class, I would unbutton my cammie trousers thinking that maybe I was just getting fat because I was an old married hag now. It was two weeks of pain and suffering. Everything made me sick - perfume, food, emissions, people's bad breath. It didn't matter, I felt sick.
After I graduated the course, I had a good day to waste before my flight left, so I went back to New River to see some old friends and hand out some of my wedding pictures. The squadron was having their Squadron Party on the beach, so I decided to tag along. We had lunch at an Italian restaurant right off base and then we spent the day on the beach. It was a hot and steamy day, so I became dehydrated pretty fast. Since I didn't feel well, we left the party and went back to my old neighbor's house out in town. Within a couple of hours, I felt sick. More sick than ever before. I felt it coming up. I ran around the house trying to find a place to throw up. My friend was taking a shower, his roommate was mounting his recent conquest, so I eventually ran outside and puked all over the front yard. Three times to be exact. Piles of spaghetti laid all over the front yard, but I felt so much better.
I drove myself to Raleigh-Durham airport and only had to pull over twice to throw up so more. I had no idea what was going on with me, but I was starting to get mad because I never get sick. I was running on empty once I got to the airport, so I decided to eat some more. Big mistake. I threw up not stop from RDU to Chicago. Once I got to the second leg of my flight, I just looked like death, but I was almost home.
I felt so bad for the guy sitting next to me on the flight. For 2-1/2 hours, he held my hair back. And who says that chivalry is dead?  When I got home, I was still throwing up, so I was determined that I had food poisoning. I go the ER and then they tell me the words that  made me sick again...."You're pregnant." Yep. I got pregnant on my wedding night. What are the odds of that happening? But like everything else, the odds were not in my favor, but it was a heart warming feeling...I had a little life growing inside me. Yes, the Marine got mushy. I was filled with excitement. In eight months, a little baby Marine will be born, my little Micah Joe.


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