October 20, 2003 -- It was March 17, 2003 when the 48-hour deadline was imposed. Saddam Hussein and his sons must leave Iraq. And as the hours ticked closer and the troop strength swelled, it was clear that our nation was going to war: A war that most of us watched on televisions in our homes. A war that meant others must leave their homes to keep us safe. Mothers, fathers, sisters, friends would pack, uncertain of the days ahead. Uncertain, because that’s the way war is: Unpredictable, perilous, sometimes clandestine.

But even in war, there are constants. Things like hope and humanity and heroism. Things that three U.Va. nurses--Tracie Brown (BSN ’02), Patti Ann Connor Ballard (MSN ‘83, PhD ‘00) and Karen Pruett (MSN ’03)--know all about.

Tracie Brown

Tracie Brown (right) welcomed home by Alan’s mother

Less than a year after her graduation, US Navy Ensign Tracie Brown arrived in Bahrain on March 7, 2003 for her new assignment aboard the USNS Comfort. Brown prepared for the war to come. Prepared to care for wounded American soldiers. Prepared for the horrific kind of injuries that come from bombs and grenades and armaments of war. But sometimes even the best preparations can’t predict the future. It wasn’t just American soldiers she would treat, but prisoners and civilians.

"No one dreamt we’d be taking care of Iraqi prisoners on ship," says Brown. "That was a hard transition as an American, especially hearing stories about their relentless assault on Marines. And there I was taking care of them."

In war there isn’t time for too much thinking or worrying. The wounded keep coming, no matter what side they’re on. Just because a shift ends, the stream of patients does not. So they keep working, round the clock. Sometimes there are so many patients; staff are forced to open a new ward in less than an hour, sometimes thirty minutes. There are multiple gunshot and shrapnel wounds; that means lots of narcotics, hourly dressing changes, and blood, lots of blood, fifty or more units a day. "I’ve never transfused so much blood," says Brown. "We’d use about 600 units a month."

Caring for Iraqi prisoners of war means taking even more precautions. Scissors must be locked and unlocked for each dressing; it takes two caregivers for each treatment because patients can’t be approached alone; PCA pumps aren’t allowed, they could be turned into weapons against the staff. "There are internal conflicts on one hand," says Brown. "Human pain and suffering on the other…we step up to the plate and do what is necessary."

In war, things are uncertain. And some things, like caring for POWs and Iraqi civilians, can change a person. Change the way one thinks or sees the world. "We reacted in different ways to different patients," says Brown. "You hear their stories and can't help but feel bad for some of them. One man, forty-five years old, told me about his sons being shot in front of him, because his father fired at the Americans. His daughters and wife are safe in Baghdad. He is a musician and sang for everyone at night."

Brown’s patients spoke freely about how their families were killed, and what happened to get them where they are. "There was a young guy, eighteen. I think he was fighting. It is so hard when at times you feel such compassion for these people, and then I think...one of these guys may have shot Alan." Alan Babin is an 82nd Airborne soldier who was wounded and sent to the ICU aboard the USNS Comfort. "My boyfriend’s family lives in the same town in Texas as Alan and they asked me to go and see him," Brown says. "He wasn’t my patient but I went to see him as a friend." She read him e-mails, used her own phone time to call his parents. She’d hold the phone next to his ear, even when he could not speak, when all he could do was make his lip quiver in response.

And there are the patients who tested her. The ones who sided with Saddam Hussein’s regime. They pretended they didn’t speak English even when they could. They lied to interpreters. They spit out medicines, spit at her, spit on the floor. "They never taught us about this in nursing ethics," she admits. "Taking care of patients who scratch me and spit at me when they don't get what they want...or even when they just have the opportunity. That experience could be an entire class in nursing ethics."

Still, Brown, who is now back in the U.S. and again working at Bethesda Naval Hospital, says her education prepared her for this unexpected adventure. "I think everyone in my class could have done the same thing."

Tracie Brown is the recipient of the Nursing Alumni Association’s 2003 Young Alumni Award. See story on page __ for more details.

Karen Pruett

Karen Pruett with her children, Patrick and Katherine

Karen Pruett is a single mom. A nurse. And a soldier. In May she graduated from U.Va. In June she was deployed to the Middle East. But going to war is not new for Lt. Cmdr. Pruett, a veteran of the first Persian Gulf War. Leaving her two children, Patrick and Katherine, is. "This time I will be facing separation from my children, who weren’t around during the first Gulf War," says Pruett. "No mother ever wants to be separated from her children, even if passionate about serving her country. But my work is important not because of my freedom, but freedom for my children. I want a better world for them."

Moving to Charlottesville from Rota, Spain with her children, Pruett juggled parenthood, school activities, and intensive class schedules so she could receive advanced training in the School of Nursing’s graduate nursing program. Now a clinical nurse specialist, she will train new nurses and corpsmen in military hospitals to care for patients during both war and peacetime.

After graduating from Ohio State University in 1989, Pruett joined the Navy. A year later she reported aboard the 1,000-bed USNS Comfort and served for eight months in the Persian Gulf. Twelve years later, Pruett is returning to a military fleet hospital to help care for soldiers injured in Operation Iraqi Freedom. "I enjoy travel and like the idea of trying new things and living in new places every three to four years," she says. "I find my career challenging but rewarding, since I not only work for the U.S. Navy, I work for my country."

Still, some might wonder why such dedication. It might be traced to her father, a police officer. When she was sixteen he was killed while trying to thwart a burglar. "I saw my father in a service role as a police officer, and seeing the thousands of people who attended his funeral and their personal stories of how he impacted their lives created a goal for me to impact people lives on some level as he did," she says. "I wanted to do more than just work in a local hospital, and I saw military service as allowing me to be a nurse and participate in an even larger scale of service."

Is she creating a legacy for her own children? They say, "Absolutely."

Patti Ballard

Patti Ballard with her husband and daughter, Lily

Colonel Richard F. Ballard proposed to Commander Patti Ann Connor (a burn ICU nurse at U.Va.) on July 4, 1999, at night on the steps of the Rotunda just after the fireworks. Here is a photo; Rick is in formal dress uniform, three years ago. It’s their wedding day. Here is another photo at Christmas 2002, Rick and Patti and their new baby, Lily, adopted from China. Photos, stories, and romantic memories are what Patti holds on to because Rick, the Inspector General (IG) for Army’s V Corps, remains in Iraq. Or maybe Kuwait. He’s been gone since February.

Patti, on Individual Ready Reserve (IRR) for the Navy Nurse Corps, waits in Heidelberg, Germany. Waits and helps and keeps things running. Not just for Patti and Lily, she keeps things running for other V Corps families waiting just like her.

"As the wife of the IG, I become the FRG (family readiness group) leader for the families of Rick's staff during times of potential and actual deployment," says Patti. "We help the soldiers and families plan ahead before deployment."

Still, some things, no matter how well you prepare, are too hard. "Nothing can prepare you for the gut-wrenching sight of your loved one getting on a bus in the middle of the night, knowing full well they are on their way into war and you have no idea when they will be coming back," says Patti, trying to hold back her own tears. "Nothing can prepare you for that."

So while Rick problem-solves, puts out fires and boosts morale from the front lines, Patti does the same in their overseas community. There are deaths, illnesses, births, teens testing limits and money problems. Responsible for more than twenty families, Patti makes pots and pots of tea, hugs and holds plenty of hands. She coordinates with local hospitals and the Red Cross when medical emergencies arise, a task made easier because she also works as a post-anesthesia Red Cross nurse at a U.S. Army hospital in Heidelberg. "I know the system," she says. "And my nursing background has helped me help these families."

For Patti, this war’s work is constant. Beyond the emergencies, there are school plays and birthday parties and kids’ photos. There are days that seem to go on forever. When spouses can’t sleep because of what she calls CNNitis (too much war coverage on TV). Days when her car breaks down.

She quotes a Chinese proverb, May you live in interesting times. There are weeks she wishes for less interesting times.

The editorial staff of the Virginia Legacy, and everyone in the U.Va. nursing family,thanks the nurses and their families who serve our country ably and well during times of crisis. There are many ways people serve—this story provides just three examples.