Pink Eye, Attack!

Last Sunday, I waited several hours for my phone to ring with a call from D, but it never did.  At first, I was sad.  Then, indignant.  Finally, a calm overtook me.  If he didn't call on the day he said he would be able to call every week, surely there was a good reason.  There better be, a part of my brain said.

After a couple of letters that were dated for Friday and Saturday, and finally receiving my Welcome Letter (might as well have called it, Oh Yeah, They've Been Here 2 Weeks Letter, but I'm not one to argue trivialities), I finally got a letter on Thursday about it.  In fact, it was three letters in one, and the first page said in all caps:  USE HAND SANITIZER AFTER READING.
 
An epidemic of Pink Eye had broken out in Fox Battery, 2nd battalion (maybe the 1st too, I don't know for sure) and my D had fallen victim.  He was put in quarantine Sunday morning, and then made to sit with nothing to do until Tuesday, when he was finally released.  In "Quarters" (the place for contagious people, D said), all they could do was go eat chow, use the latrine, and sit.  

Unfortunately, his bout with Pink Eye also meant that he missed a day of vital training - the Gas Chamber.  He was worried about being recycled, which basically means they dump you into the next graduating class, and would result in his return being delayed at least a week.  Fortunately, though, after talking to a DS it seems they are working on arranging a make-up session for those who missed.  D said there were 10 from his bay alone with him in Quarters with the dreaded Pink Eye.

So, of course, when he called tonight, after we talked about a few things, I said, "Please tell me you're washing your hands every chance you get!"  To which my husband replied, "Yes.  And I'm carrying hand sanitizer with me everywhere."

Just a few observations from my stance:  First - I despise being (at least) two days behind news.  I found myself thinking after I got D's letter about his fear of being recycled, If ONLY I could call him.  I'd know exactly what's going on!  This frustration, I am sure, comes from my innate sense as a planner.  I like to know what's happening and be planning for consequences.

Second:  It's hard to talk on the phone with D.  I don't know which letters he's read and he doesn't know which ones I've gotten.  You talk around the big stuff so as not to ruin your letters.  It's odd; I mean, I'm talking on the phone with the man I've spent the better part of five years sharing every detail of my life and I don't know what to say.  So, we ended up talking about meaningless stuff just to hear each others' voices.  Because that's one of the thing I dearly miss.

And I had to miss 20 minutes of it last week to Pink Eye.  Ridiculous!

PSA:  WASH YOUR HANDS, PEOPLE!