A Letter From Afghanistan

ABILITY's Moses Degraft-Johnson, MD, shares a last piece of correspondence from his best friend, who is heading home from war

Dear Moses,

I'm writing you from Afghanistan in late December 2011, as U.S. forces are leaving Iraq. They are also drawing down here, where I am, and my own tour will end soon. As a naval officer and surgeon, the military operations Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom have been my reality over the last decade.

Upon reflection, my experiences have confirmed a great lesson: “Wisdom only comes through suffering.”

While my deployment has taken me away from the comforts of home, time spent in our desert operating tent has helped me transcend the vicissitudes of fear, anger and sadness, with lessons of gratitude, humility and love. I’ve witnessed pain and suffering of our wounded warriors, and worked endless hours with our medical team to save the lives and limbs of our fallen heroes.

I am grateful and proud to serve the United States, which welcomed my West African immigrant parents to Ellis Island in the 1960s, and provided opportunities for their “made-in-the-USA” son to become a heart surgeon. I am also grateful for the lessons of bravery, honor, courage and commitment, inculcated everyday by the men and women in uniform.

Unfortunately, the devastating battle injuries inflicted on our troops sometimes outmatch my skills as a surgeon. The truth is that some injuries cannot be fixed, and some lives cannot be saved. I have come to accept this painful truth with humility.

But on September 13, 2011, two days and 10 years after 9/11, I was called to perform a surgery, where the outcome was yet to be determined.

A young Afghan boy, weighing only 25 pounds, had been shot through the arm and chest, and the bullet fragment was lodged in his heart. Within minutes I arrived by helicopter, through a clear desert night, to a waiting team and a very small boy sleeping calmly with the help of anesthesia. We operated, opening the child’s chest, controlling his bleeding, and drawing out the blood from around his heart, which had threatened his life. After surgery, we sighed with relief as the boy emerged from anesthesia and took his first breath on his own.

Later, in the recovery room I met the boy’s father. He was an Afghan man with signs of age and deep vertical lines across his face. I imagined that each line revealed a story of suffering. I shook his hand and felt the roughness of a hand hardened by work. His eyes were sad and anxious. I thought about my young son, safe at home in America.

Through our interpreter, we told the boy’s father that the operation was successful, and then escorted him to see his boy. The man placed his hand gently on his son’s head and glanced over and nodded at me. His eyes expressed both gratitude and humility, and despite our differences, I understood the universal message of a father’s love for his child. It was a day I will never forget.

Thanks again for all your support and correspondence during my deployment!

Peace,

Hassan

Hassan A. Tetteh MD, MPA, MBA, FACS
Commander, Medical Corps, US Navy
Assistant Professor of Surgery
Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery
National Naval Medical Center

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