In 2005, I was on deployment orders with the Mississippi 155th BCT, preparing to deploy to Iraq for Operation Iraqi Freedom III.
Between Christmas and New Year’s 2004, I was physically assaulted—an event that left lasting injuries. That story is for another time, but what’s relevant here is that the assault caused damage to my head and neck. My two front upper teeth were broken nearly in half, and my face was severely swollen, especially around my jaw and mouth. The next day, a local dentist repaired my front teeth, but I would spend the rest of my time before deployment, and much of my deployment itself, in and out of dental offices—both on and off base.
As the weeks passed, I began experiencing escalating pain in my lower jaw on both sides of my face. This was the onset of trigeminal nerve damage. At the same time, I started experiencing what I called my “nightly attacks”—episodes involving my diaphragm, kidneys, and bladder.
Let me paint a picture:
Imagine living in the back rooms of an abandoned building in the Iraqi desert (see red arrow in the picture—pointing at the female room). The only entrance is at the front, leading to a long central hallway with rooms on either side. There were only about six females, and we were placed in the last room on the right—a decent-sized space with an adjoining smaller room at the back. There was no flooring, just dirt. We set up our cots and made them as comfortable as possible.
A few hours after falling asleep, I would suddenly wake up gasping for air, struggling to breathe. A warm sensation would then move down my right side until my bladder filled with an overwhelming and painful urge to urinate. This meant I had to sprint through the building, out into the night, and across to the row of port-a-potties located outside.
Now, imagine this happening every single night—for three straight years. Imagine dealing with it while deployed in a war zone. Imagine enduring severe trigeminal nerve pain while trying to focus on a mission for an entire year.
Yet, despite these obstacles, I remained focused on my duties. I was honored with an Army Commendation Medal (ARCOM) for several reasons, which I will share in a later post.
This was the beginning of my cervical disease and lordosis.
Now, let’s add another layer to the story.
Throughout my deployment, I was exposed to burn pits and other potential toxins.
Within seven years of my initial injury, my cervical spine completely reversed and collapsed. Normally, cervical disease and lordosis progress at a much slower rate. The rapid deterioration raises important questions.
Another puzzle piece added—stay tuned.
I’ll continue assembling these pieces, so if you’re interested in uncovering the bigger picture, you’re in the right place.


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