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... My weight had plummeted from the 152 pound high I reached prior to going to Vietnam to a new low of 97 pounds. One cliche that is quickly learned in times like these is "no matter how bad you think you have it, just look around and you'll see someone who's got it worse than you." I did not have to look very far. Walter Fabian, the guy in the bed next to mine was one of those whose body was ravaged by shrapnel. He was in a comatose state that he was not expected to recover from. Fabian tipped the scales at a whopping 88 pounds.
The summer of '69 was famous for a couple historical events: Woodstock officially ushered in the era of "Free Love," while the moon landing would go down in history as one of mankind's most stunning accomplishments. I witnessed neither. I missed seeing the coverage of the lunar landing compliments of having to lay on my right side in bed with a special heat lamp focused on the gaping hole in my lower back. This summer of my own personal hell was about as far from Woodstock as my bed was from where Neil Armstrong took that "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." ... |
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