Tag Archives: Marine Corps

Albert Einstein, Don Draper, and Supercuts: a newly discovered dilemma

Posted by Mike Grice on

Adapting to retirement has been interesting, to say the least.  Not that I am truly retired, mind you.  My permanent address has not changed to a fishing boat on Lake Placid, and am still years away from heading to restaurants in time for the Early Bird Blue Plate Special.

Fishing and discounted dinners aside, one thing cropped up that I hadn’t really paid much attention to but needed some attention right away.  I stepped out of the shower the other day, and after toweling off my head I looked in the mirror and almost fell over.  Where for decades I had sported a closely cropped Marine haircut (although not as closely cropped as most, to be quite honest) I now saw that I was doing a pretty decent impression of Albert Einstein after he stuck his finger in a light socket.  I had hair going everywhere- straight up, sideways, backwards, you name it.  Frightening!

It snuck up on me.  Really, it did!  I had been using a comb for the first time since the ’80s, but hadn’t been paying much attention as I “did” my hair every morning.  I was able to part it after a month or so, which was pretty neat.  It started tickling my ears, too, as it grew over them.  Also pretty neat.  I toyed with sideburns.  Neat again!  But it just kept growing.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not complaining.  I am thrilled to have hair!  Plenty of my friends don’t, suffering from the relentless onslaught of middle aged baldness.  Fortunately, I come from a family unfamiliar with the ravages of excessive hair loss, and now I am reaping the rewards of such a hirsute lineage.

Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed growing out my hair it was now becoming annoyingly unsightful.  In addition to it being grey in places where it used to be brown, my attempts to tame it with brush, comb, and hair gel (!) it still managed to do whatever it wanted.

Time for a haircut.

Where do civilians get their haircuts, anyway?  I had been going to the same suite of barbers for decades.  It is a very simple process when you are in the military, and especially so in the Marine Corps.  The uniform regulations state that a Marine haircut must graduate from zero (meaning no blocked cuts allowed) up to a maximum length of three inches on top.  Not a lot of room to work with, but even so there are about a half-dozen varieties of authorized Marine styles: the “Mr. Clean” Bald look, the fresh out of bootcamp “High and Tight” (shaved around the head with a patch of hair on top) the ’50s inspired “Flat Top”, and the “I really don’t want one of those other haircuts” Regulation haircut, in low, medium, or high style (the low, medium, and high in reference to how closely you want it cropped on the side of your head).  After my overly enthusiastic embracing of the High and Tight Flat Top as a young and motivated NCO I gradually seasoned my sensibilities and embraced the sedate Senior Officer’s Low Regulation.  Just enough on top to push over one way or the other, but not long enough for the Sergeant Major to question my gender (“Gee sir, would you like some mousse to go with your flowing tresses?  When are you going to start braiding it?”).

Anyhow, I digress.  Week in and week out for years and years I had plonked myself in the fine naugahyde splendor of the base barbershop and asked for a “low reg.”.  A few minutes later, the barber’s work finished, I looked in the mirror to see myself exactly as I had looked the week before after my last haircut.  It didn’t matter if it was in Camp Pendleton, Okinawa, Iraq, or Afghanistan, the same ritual took place.  “Hello.  Low Reg.”  Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  “Done.”  And that was that.

Now I was flummoxed by what to do.  I feared going to a military barber because I knew what the outcome would be, so instead I cast my gaze to the local strip mall.  Civilians get their hair cut too, and where else but at a hair-cuttery sandwiched between Men’s Wearhouse and GNC?  SUPERCUTS, of course.

So into SUPERCUTS I went.  It was quite bewildering.  There was a little seating area with magazines; not too different from the military side, but there were no copies of Guns and Ammo or Soldier of Fortune here.  Only US and People.  Good thing I didn’t have to wait long enough to find out how many more kids Angelina and Brad adopted last week.

A very nice young lady greeted me, and after explaining that I needed a haircut, I was introduced to another nice girl with an “i” at the end of her name.  Brandi or Candi or something like that- very different from the surly and generally grumpy barbers I was accustomed to.

She sat me down in the chair (which, to be quite honest, was not a real barber chair, but then again, she wasn’t a real barber, but a “stylist”) and asked what I wanted.  I explained again that I was newly retired and didn’t want to look like Albert Einstein.  As I talked I glanced around the shop and saw a pastiche of pictures- hair models with gelled spiky hair next to mullets next to wavy haired surfer dudes.  I opted for something bit more conservative.  I asked for the “Don Draper” look from the television show Mad Men.  After she got done laughing she set to work.

“I’ll thin it out here on the sides.  You have a lot of bulk.”

Bulky hair?  Really?  I guess that explains the Einstein look.

“How about the sideburns?  How low do you want them?”

Decisions, decisions!  How low do sideburns go?  I stabbed my cheek with my index finger at about mid-ear.

“I’ll get rid of the fuzzies, too.”

Fuzzies?  Nobody wants excess fuzzies, which I learned are stylist-speak for neck hair.  Fuzzies be gone!

After ten minutes snicking scissors and buzzing clippers she was done.

“Gel?”

Sure, said I.  She worked it into my newly-shorn locks, and in no time I looked almost nothing like Don Draper but significantly less like Albert Einstein.

Victory!

I quickly paid at the register, and after turning down the generous offer to set me up with a bewildering variety of hair care products I left the shop with a freshly stamped “frequent customer” card.  Just think…nine more haircuts and my tenth one will be free!  At the current rate I’ll be claiming my free shearing some time in 2014, but who am I to complain?

The little things, part 3: Dental insurance. Who knew?

Posted by Mike Grice on

A few posts ago I addressed the need to sign up for health coverage now that I have crossed over into the land of the transitioned.  It also left you, the constant reader, hanging on the edge of your seat to find out just what I would do for dental insurance.  The suspense must be killing you, so I’ll get straight to it.

TRICARE offers dental coverage, but it is under the moniker Delta Dental.  I don’t know why they call it that, but they do.  At any rate, the Delta Dental program is pretty much the same on active duty and when retired, with the principle difference being that now the retiree has to pay for it.  Before transitioning, dental care was the same as medical care – all you needed to do was go to the dental clinic and you were taken care of.  Your family, on the other hand, needed to be covered by Delta Dental in a similar manner to how they were covered by TRICARE, so it isn’t that much of a change for them if they were using the plan already.  It is a bit of a change, however, if they weren’t.  In case your family has not been using the dental plan or in case you are moving to a new home, you will have to follow the same protocol as TRICARE enrollment and find an in-plan dentist.

The decision to enroll is time sensitive, because if you wait too long there are some significant ramifications to your coverage in the form of limited coverage.  If you enroll within four months (120 days) of your retirement date then the entire range of treatments are covered (with varying deductibles and whatnot) immediately.  If not, you have to wait a year (365 days) for some expensive little things like crowns and bridges and implants and orthodontic work.  Hmmm….you say.  I don’t need braces, so maybe I’ll just roll the bones and wait to enroll until I really need dental care.  Maybe that works for you, but what about the kids?  Your decision to delay enrollment may seriously impact their ability to get orthodontic work, or more likely it will seriously impact your wallet when you find that they won’t be covered for a year because you chose not to enroll.  Probably a good idea to go ahead and sign up!

The cost is pretty reasonable, and the coverage is competitive with other dental plans.  For an individual the cost is around $45.oo per month, and for a family of four it is around $150.00 or so.  The actual rates vary by location, but these are good ballpark figures to work with.

Here is what your hard earned money gets for you:

Exams and cleanings are fully covered.

Fillings are 80/20 (meaning that Delta Dental covers 80% and you pay 20%)

Endodontics, Periodontics & Oral Surgery (root canals, gum treatment & extractions) are 60/40

Dental Accident Coverage is 100/0

Cast Crowns & Onlays, Bridges, Dentures, Implants, Orthodontics are 50/50

Deductible: $50 per person, $150 cap per family, per benefit year (Oct 1 – Sep 3o)

Maximum: $1,200 per person, per benefit year

Dental Accident Maximum: $1,000 per person, per benefit year

Orthodontic Maximum: $1,500 per person, per lifetime (good for kids with crooked teeth!)

You can check out all of the ins and outs of Delta Dental at their website.  Here is a link to a very informative pamphlet that explains the plan in much greater detail:  http://www.trdp.org/dwnld/MM042%20Brochure%200411%20web.pdf

To get started, you must pay the first two months’ premiums up front, and you can enroll by mail, online, or by telephone.  Very convenient!  It helps if you ask the dentist that you would like to use if he or she is in the network, before enrolling.  It will make things a lot simpler because then you don’t have to play “find the dentist”.  Ask around – everyone has a dentist they like, and if your friends are former military then the odds are that they are using an in-plan provider.

So get out and find a dentist – and get moving quickly if you want to ensure immediate full coverage for you and your family.  Don’t wait for a filling to fall out or for a tooth to start aching- if you do then you will be out a lot of money that you could have saved with a phonecall and a few minutes of your time!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  You are not automatically covered with a dental plan when you transition.  It is not lumped in with the TRICARE medical plan, but instead is a separate and distinct insurance product.  You need to sign up for Delta Dental just like you did for TRICARE.

2.  Time matters.  If you miss the 120 day window you are assuming some risk that can end up being very expensive should you need emergency care or braces for the kids.  Preventive care is free, so don’t wait for your teeth to start falling out!

3.  Ask around.  People generally like their dentists and are happy to share who they are.  A quick call to their office will let you know if they participate in Delta Dental (and in my experience most of them do). Once you enroll, a stop by the office with your documentation will get you into the dentist’s system and set you up for your first post-service appointment.

Networking and the MEA

Posted by Mike Grice on

The other night I had the opportunity to attend a Marine Executive Association (MEA)-West meeting.  What is the MEA, you ask?  I’m glad you did, because it is a great resource for transitioning servicemen and women because it leads to something we all need: jobs.

The MEA is a networking organization where people like me who are leaving the service can meet others who are transitioning as well as business people who need quality people to join their organizations.  It is informal (after all, the only rank anyone has after they get out is “Marine”) and informative, because most of transitioning military types really don’t know that much about civilian employment.

Here is the writeup about the association from their website (http://www.marineea.org/):

“The Marine Executive Association is a national, volunteer, non-profit organization of former and current active duty Marines who provide assistance to Marines transitioning from active duty to reserve/retired status, leaving the Corps at the end of obligated service or moving from one civilian career/job to another. Transition assistance includes: Resume review; Job hunting and interview tips and techniques; Job posting by employers to the MEA web site; Resume posting by Marines for employer download; and resume and interview coaching by volunteer Marine. The MEA provides a weekly E-Mail list of all jobs that have been posted during the previous week and resumes posted for employer download, review and screening.”

The association is open to all services, and in the most recent meeting that I attended there were Air Force, Army, and Navy vets there too.  Transition is the great equalizer and now that we all dress the same we share the same concerns and have the same need for employment, so the inter-service rivalry goes right out the window.  We’re all in the same boat now.

The meetings are monthly occurrences.  On the third Wednesday of the month the attendees gather to socialize and have a drink at Iron Mike’s, which is the Staff Noncommissioned Officer’s club located in Camp Pentleton’s South Mesa events center.  After a half hour or so, we all migrate over to a meeting room where a guest speaker will talk to the crowd about what it’s like on the other side of the fence.  Our speaker for the last meeting was Kim Shepherd, the Chief Executive Officer of the Alfred P. Sloan award winning placement firm Decision Toolbox.  She gave us tremendous insights into the business world, with a strong emphasis on how to evaluate yourself in order to find what you are really interested in doing in your next career.  Kim was followed by a group of business leaders from the Los Angeles area who are interested in helping veterans learn more about the business world.  They are a group of great Americans who want to help vets find jobs, and they shared some great ideas and recommendations to help veterans make it from job seeker to job finder.

One of the great aspects of MEA meetings is that we get to hear about the corporate sector from corporate professionals, and the insights that they give are priceless.  It isn’t every day that an industry leader takes the time to mentor a pool of job seekers, but it happens at the MEA.  Research has shown that roughly 80% of jobs are found through networking – so getting to know people is certainly in your best interest as you transition!

After the guest speakers are finished we all introduce ourselves.  This is a chance to give your “elevator pitch”, which is a thirty to sixty second sound bite about yourself and what you are looking for.  You never get a second chance to make a first impression, and by standing up in front of a room full of people it gives you a little practice.  It also lets the employers in the room know if you are someone that fits their needs, and I have personally witnessed vets get job interviews on the spot after the introductions are finished; such is the power of networking!

The introductions are the last part of the structured meeting.  Once they are completed the formal part of the meeting is done it is a little like a high school dance as job seekers work their way across the room to meet up with businesspeople who have pitched the opportunities available in their organizations.  It is also when old friends catch up and new friendships are forged, or in other words, the networking tree grows a little stronger and new branches sprout.

It is a great opportunity to get out there and see what the job market is like.  Once you get plugged into MEA-West, you can begin receiving emails from the head of the organization.  He sends out dozens of emails each week, and each one contains anywhere from one to ten or twenty job opportunities.  Many of these opportunities are first listed in Steve’s emails, and a lot of veterans have found employment through the MEA.  One former Marine who left active duty in the 1990s shared that every job he has taken since taking off his uniform has been through MEA-West networking, and he is far from alone.  Even in this tough employment market there are jobs out there.  Networking with the MEA will help you find them, so find out where and when the next meeting goes and belly up to the bar!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Networking works.  In today’s economic uncertainty there are literally millions of resumes flying around, and the stories about people who have submitted hundreds or thousands of resumes without finding a job are constantly in the news.  The vast majority of employment opportunities are found through someone you know, so increase your chances by getting out there and meeting people.

2.  Help yourself as you network.  If you don’t have personalized business cards yet, then get some printed up.  I personally recommend that you go to a stationary shop and have a set professionally done with only your name and contact information printed on the card.  This is for two reasons: first, you are looking for a job, and it is not the best idea to use the card from your current job to find a new one and second, handing a professional looking and feeling card with your name, phone number, and email address saves both you and the person you are interacting with from writing that info down on a cocktail napkin.  Anybody can print out a flimsy card on their computer, but remember that the first impression is the most important.  Do you want to be remembered as the cheapskate with homemade cards or the kind of person who puts some effort into finding a job?

3.  Carry a resume.  I will write a lot in the future about how to prepare a resume, but attending a networking meeting without your resume (and personalized business cards) is a bit like going to a nightclub in your pajamas – sure, you’re there but you aren’t really ready to participate.  Many employers are looking to immediately fill positions, and the guy or gal with a resume will get the job before the one who doesn’t.  Don’t be that person with empty hands when an employer asks for your resume!

4.  There are countless networking organizations out there.  MEA is just one, but there are commensurate organizations for all branches of the armed forces, for federal employees, civic organizations, etc.  They are all tremendous resources that you can tap for free, and you will certainly meet some great people along the way that will help you along the path to employment.

Thanks!

Posted by Mike Grice on

Yesterday was a big day.  In December I wrote about running, or more specifically how running is important to my sanity as well as being critical in my desire to eat more pizza than salad.  At the end of the post I asked for help raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society as I prepared to run the Carlsbad Half Marathon.  There was a great response, and I was able to meet my fundraising goal –  so a special shout-out goes to my Mom, Royce, Dan, Ron, Linda, Lee and Valerie for their generosity.  It was a great motivator to get out and pound the pavement for a couple of hours on a Sunday morning!

The race went well.  It wasn’t too cold, and a gossamer veil of clouds kept the sun from baking us as it rose.  It was really a great experience to join up with 8,500 or so new friends and go for a genteel run along the coast.  There were bands playing and lots of volunteers handing out water and sports drinks and snacks and whatnot, and the overall feel of the race was really positive.  We started off after a Camp Pendleton Marine sang the National Anthem (and she did a great job!), and it was heartening to see so many people having such a great time.

The course is an out-and-back, which means that you run out to a turnaround point and then head back to the finish line – which is right back where you started (as opposed to several other races, like the La Jolla or America’s Finest City half marathons that start in one place and run to another).  It was very humbling to see wheelchair competitors coming back the other way; it really puts your life into perspective when you see someone with no legs peddling their racing wheelchair like mad and doing something so incredibly positive.  It really makes so many of the problems in life seem petty and small and it also shows the strength of the human soul.

Not far behind the wheelchair competitors came the “Elite Runners”.  These people are more cheetah than human because they were running faster after ten miles than I could in a dead sprint on my best day.  Good for them!   Fortunately, they had nothing to fear from me, except maybe a wrestling match over gatorade at the finish line if they were still hanging around.  They are all pretty skinny, so I think I could take them…

As with all half marathons there were all kinds of people there – kids, grandparents, and everyone in between.  I saw several people I knew lining up to race and even more in the crowd that cheered us on.  I would especially like to thank the lovely ladies in spandex and purple tops for taking my mind off the pain in my feet by giving me something to concentrate on as I ran.  Thanks, ladies!

So thank you all for your support in my efforts to raise money for a worthy cause and continue to maintain my sanity – I really appreciate it, and so does the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society!

The little things, part 2: Health insurance. Who knew?

Posted by Mike Grice on

As a uniformed member of the U. S. Armed Forces I have been very fortunate when it comes to health care.  No matter what malady I came down with or injury I suffered medical services were always there, and they were always free.  Everything is covered, from bullet wounds to brain surgery to chipped teeth.  Pretty nice benefit to have, particularly considering the occupational hazards that come with fighting our nation’s wars.

I have never had to really think of healthcare as something outside the purview of my job, but with my transition from active duty to retirement it rose in prominence from “interesting” to “important”.  The need to obtain health coverage was discussed at the various transition briefs, but I didn’t really pay close attention because the actual date of my reintroduction to the civilian world seemed so distant.  Time passed, though, and before I knew it my EAS was just around the corner.  So, after spending some time rooting through the enormous pile of transition related pamphlets, booklets, and notes that I had amassed over the last few months I found what I was looking for: a handout from the TAP/TAMP class that had “TRICARE: Transitioning from Active Duty to Retirement” emblazoned across the top.

Score!

I read the handout, and it had just enough information to point me in the right direction so that I could find a real person to explain it all to me.  In my case, that person is a very nice lady who works on the 6th floor of the Camp Pendleton Naval Hospital, and she took pity on my when I showed up in front of her counter in my quest to ensure that I didn’t enter civilian life unprepared and uninsured.

She also educated me on the ins and outs of health insurance.  It turns out that there are several different insurance products that I could choose, and each had advantages and disadvantages when compared to the others.  Although I am eligible for healthcare through the Veterans Administration, my family isn’t.  Needless to say taking care of myself and not my family is a non-starter, so I had some decisions to make.

The first decision was which level of TRICARE did I want?  There are three basic levels.  As a retiree my family and I are automatically enrolled and covered in two plans:  TRICARE Standard and TRICARE Extra.  These plans don’t have monthly or annual fees, but instead are pay as you go, or “cost for use” plans, so although they are free if you never use them, it can get expensive if you need medical care.  The difference between the two plans is based on providers; for Standard you can be seen my doctors outside the network, but you pay higher cost shares than Extra, in which you select providers within the network and receive a discount.  Here is a link to a TRICARE flyer that gives much more information on the programs: http://www.triwest.com/en/beneficiary/tricare-benefits/handbooks-and-brochures/Standard_Extra_Flyer.pdf

The other available product is TRICARE Prime.  For Prime you have to enroll and pay an annual fee of $520 a year, which seems like a lot when compared to the free healthcare options is incredibly inexpensive when compared to what people in the private sector have to pay for similar coverage.  That said, it is a benefit that military types have earned it the hard way through at least twenty years of service, a lot of which is hard on the body.  As a result, many retirees have conditions (such as combat wounds, partial deafness, and early onset osteoarthritis for example) that could be classified as “pre-existing conditions” and limit accessibility to a new healthcare provider.  So it all works out.  Here is a link to another flyer that has information on all of the available TRICARE options (of which there are a lot more than I cover in this post):  http://www.triwest.com/en/beneficiary/tricare-benefits/handbooks-and-brochures/tricare-choices-at-a-glance/TRICARE_ChoicesatGlance.pdf

I made my decision.  Prime it would be.  As with all things governmental, though, there are a few wickets to hit in order to enroll.  The first and most important is that you must enroll before your last day in the service in order to avoid any gaps in coverage.  If you don’t seek out the TRICARE office, fill out the paperwork, and give them a check before your retirement date your level of coverage defaults to Standard or Prime.  It can be quite a risk because the potential costs associated with care of you and your family can be staggering should something happen when you are not covered by Prime.  If you don’t get around to enrolling, however, don’t despair.  You can still sign up, but you will have to wait until the next month for coverage to start.  TRICARE follows what is known as the “20th of the month” rule, which means that as long as you enroll by the 20th of the current month your coverage will begin on the 1st day of the next month.  Wait until the 21st, however, and your coverage begins on the 1st of the following month.  Needless to say, it behooves you to sign up before you get out.

There are several factors to consider when you sign up for TRICARE Prime.  As a Marine I never had to select a doctor; all I had to do was go to the Aid Station or hospital and I would be taken care of.  As a retiree, however, the option of wandering into a Regimental Aid Station to be seen evaporated.  I needed to determine who my doctor would be.

Noting my puzzled expression, the very nice TRICARE administrator talked me through the process of selecting a provider: first, she checked to see if there was a clinic within 30 minutes of my home.  If there was a clinic, then that is where I would go for care.  It turns out there was a clinic, but she quickly determined that its patient load was full, so I would have to find another provider.  She printed out a list of possibilities (including pediatricians), and after a quick telephone conversation with my spouse we picked providers.  This step is particularly important for retirees who are moving to a new home because they may or may not have access to a clinic or even a TRICARE provider.  For those moving back to the country or out of the country (because TRICARE is administered differently overseas) make sure to surf through the TRICARE website to see what options pertain to your situation:  http://www.tricare.mil/.

So, after about a half hour with the most helpful and cheerful TRICARE administrator I had completed the application process.  She typed my information into her computer and presented me with a filled-in application which I reviewed and signed.  I handed it back along with a check for $130.00 to cover the first quarterly premium.  She gave me some advice, too.  “Call the TRICARE toll free telephone number in about a month,” she said, “to confirm that you are enrolled and that they received your payment.  If you don’t double check and something doesn’t go through you are not covered.  So do yourself a favor and double check!”

Sound advice.  She had obviously been around government agencies for a while.

So off I went, happy as a clam.  And then I remembered that there didn’t seem to be anything about teeth in the flyer.  Hmmm…

Sure enough, another lesson!  Medical care is different than dental care, so if I wanted my family and I to have dental coverage, I would have to apply for that, too.  And pay for it.  Retirement is getting expensive!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Do some research.  There is always a table piled high with flyers and pamphlets at transition courses and seminars, so do yourself a favor and grab one of eveything that is available.  Then, over a cup of coffee or a cocktail, sort it all out and file it away because you never know when one of those bits of paper will prove worth its weight in gold.  For me, it was the TRICARE transition flyer because it was like the Rosetta Stone of post-service healthcare.  It gave me the basic information I needed to find the right people and ensure that my family and I were covered.  The internet is great, having a sheet of paper with all the info you need precludes frantic Google searches.

2.  Don’t let your retirement date pass without enrolling in TRICARE Prime or you are taking a serious risk.  Even if you don’t want Prime, find out where your base TRICARE office is and sit down with one of the helpful administrators – they are pros who will make sure you fully understand what you are entitled to as well as what the various programs offer.

3.  If you are moving then it behooves you to closely examine which option pertains to you.  This is particularly important for those going overseas because it gets complicated very quickly.  So, if you are headed back to the family homestead on the great plains or the mountains of Tibet make sure to get all of your questions answered before you pull chocks and hit the road – TRICARE administrators are difficult to find at the base of Mount Everest.

4.  Talk it over with your family.  They get a vote.  Healthcare is a big deal; indeed a much bigger deal than I had thought.  Make sure you make the best decision for you and your family that you can.

The little things, part 1: A new ID card

Posted by Mike Grice on

So it had finally happened.  The big day had arrived and I found myself suddenly thrust back out into the real world.  Crossing the threshold of transition is more than just metaphorical, however.  There are still quite a few things that have to be accomplished before the process of becoming a civilian again is complete.

One important “little thing” is obtaining the official token of retirement: the blue identification card.  It is the key to your benefits after leaving active duty; benefits like health care, shopping at the base exchange or commissary, and the proof of your service that allows you to drive onto base.  Unlike your active duty ID card, however, it doesn’t require renewal every three years.  It expires on your 65th birthday, where upon I suppose I will have to drive down to the Pass and Identification office and obtain a new card (65 is the magic age when retirees become eligible for Medicare, and thus require a new form of identification).

So it is important to get one’s retired ID card as soon as possible after the last day of terminal leave has vanished into the night.  Technically, if you don’t, you are violating the law because the Armed Forces Identity Card has a few features that your random state issued ID or driver’s license doesn’t.  For example, it is a “smart card” with a chip inside that can be used to access government computers.  Not that you can really do anything particularly nefarious with such access, but with your transition comes the end of your right to get on government computer systems.  It also contains your official Geneva Convention status in case you are captured by the enemy (although this is particularly unlikely in Southern California, you never know when it might be useful).  In my case, I was Category IV, which meant I was a commissioned officer.  When I was enlisted was a Category III.  I know that because it said so right on my ID card.  Again, not a huge deal, but with my retirement I became uncategorized.  Had the US been invaded on New Year’s Day and I had been captured and the invader checked my ID card then I would have been  thrown in a POW camp instead of being released.  That in and of itself is reason enough to get my new ID.

So off to the Pass and ID office I went.  It seemed to be a straightforward process: go to the office and turn in your active ID for a retired one.  It was straightforward, but in typical fashion it wasn’t so simple.

I showed up and signed in on the clipboard that sat beneath the proclamation “SIGN IN HERE”.  I then sat down in a government issued plastic chair with about a dozen other people who were waiting for new identity cards.  I was halfway through reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (always a good read) when my name was called.

I walked up to the counter.   “Can I help you?” asked the clerk.  “Sure.  I need to turn in my active ID card for a retired one,” I answered as I reached for my wallet.

“OK.  Two forms of ID please.  And your DD-214.”

D’oh.

ID’s I had.  My DD-214 I didn’t.

The DD-214 is the single most important document that a separating serviceman or woman will ever receive.  It is the source document that proves your service; it shows when you entered and when you left active duty as well as the recording your eligibility for VA benefits, healthcare, reenlistment (in case you can’t handle civilian life and want to get back in) and apparently also a retired ID card.

I resigned myself to another trip to the Pass and ID office.  I should have known better, but I didn’t.  The thing about being on active duty is that you tend to take a lot of things for granted; after all, you are in every computer data base imaginable.  All anyone has to do is look at your ID card, input your social security number, and pull your data up.  Unfortunately, once you retire the great big data eraser comes in and purges you from the system, as was the case for me on the first business day after the New Year’s Day weekend:

03 Jan 2012 @ 0243  MOL  LTCOL GRICE, MICHAEL D. was dropped from your unit

With that pithy little message I was erased.  With my erasure rose the importance of the DD-214, because it was an artifact of my service that could not be summarily deleted.  And without it, as I found, things were much more difficult or impossible to accomplish.

So the next day I returned with my two forms of ID and my DD-214.  I was able to finish reading the September issue of Consumer Reports (good thing, too!  I was wondering which bottled water I should be drinking) before I was beckoned back to the counter.  With a cheery smile I turned over my documents, and within a few minutes I had a shiny new retired ID card.  Complete with a cheesy picture of myself that I  would be looking at for the next few decades before I turn 65 and the proclamation of my newly earned RETIRED status.  No POW camp for me!

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Your DD-214 is the most important document you will have after you transition.  I recommend that you keep a copy of it with you at all times when you are conducting transition relate business.  Have the administrative shop that completes your transition provide you a few extra copies, and make sure that they are stamped “CERTIFIED TRUE COPY” at the bottom.  That will ensure that you don’t have to make extra trips like I did.

2.  Buy a binder or folio (nifty word for folder that has a zipper on it to hold all the stuff inside) and keep all of your working transition paperwork inside.  That way you can whip out your DD-214 or whatever other document you need at a moment’s notice and avoid going back and forth to get things done.  You will need other documents, too, like your checkout sheet, medical appointment reminders, etc., and having an organized notebook will help a lot.

The Big Day

Posted by Mike Grice on

New Year’s Day is a day for change.  You get to break out a new calendar and do your best to keep those resolutions that you made between glasses of champagne the night before.  For me, January 1st 2012 is particularly important because it marks an incredibly significant day in my life.

New Year’s Day was the day that I became a civilian.  27 years and 21 days after I raised my right hand to swear an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States I found myself back to where I was that December day in 1984.  I officially became a former Marine; “former” because once you become a Marine you are one forever.  There is no such thing as an “ex-Marine”.  Ex-soldier, yes.  Ex-Marine, no.

New Year’s Eve was a party.  It was a celebration with friends that marked the end of a tiring and, for many, a challenging 2011 and the bright beginnings of a new and shiny 2012.  We rang in the New Year with a lot of noise and a lot of champagne – in particular an enormous bottle that was given to me by my great friend Chris to mark my transition.  My headache the following morning indicated that I had indeed made a dent in the reservoir of bubbly that it poured!

Waking up the next morning was a little odd.  I have been a Marine for the better part of three decades, and despite my newly found “Former” Marine status it was striking that I no longer had any official tie to the Corps.  I would be receiving a pension, which is great, but no longer would I be watching the news with the same level of interest in world events as I had been.  The probability that I would find myself in some pestilential third world hotspot suddenly became zero, and the odds that I would have to leave my family for months on end for a deployment disappeared.  I was now back in the society that I had served for so long, with all of the benefits that make it the greatest nation on the planet.

It is a little like being that 17 year old kid who enlisted while still in high school.  I have the rest of my life in front of me, and I have the opportunity to choose what comes next.  It is almost like being given another whole new life; I can do anything I want.  Except maybe professional sports.  I’ll cede that option to the practical realities of starting life over at the age of 44!

I leave my military career with a wall full of plaques and a mind full of memories.  Being a career Marine was the best career that I could have pursued because it took me places that I would otherwise have never seen and challenged me to levels that exist only in the most dire of circumstances.  I have made lifelong friends and learned more about life than I thought possible at the ripe old age of 17 when I signed up.

So it is with a certain level of eagerness that I look forward to the next great adventure.  I am not certain where the road ahead will lead me, but I am excited to take the first steps in a pair of tennis shoes.  Like me, my combat boots are retired from active service.  Time to try something new…

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it? Part 3

Posted by Mike Grice on

When I left you last, constant reader, I was headed out of the Regimental Aid Station and into the adventure that was my final physical.  Despite the fact that my naive impression that I could knock it out in a single doctor’s visit was crushed by the freight train of medical reality, my ignorance was remedied and I had a plan (and another checklist) to knock it out.   The good Navy corpsmen and regimental surgeon had educated me and set me up for success, and it was my responsibility to follow their lead.  So off I went- first stop: Camp Pendleton’s Naval Hospital.

I had several appointments at the hospital, which makes sense because hospitals is where most medical providers hang out.  I also had a few non appointments to make; a non appointment being a stop at a walk-in clinic.  Appointments are good because you are inked into the doctor’s schedule, and as long as you show up on time you will be taken care of.  It may take a while, but you’ll be seen.  Non appointments, on the other hand, are much like Forrest Gump’s apocryphal box of chocolates: you never knew what you were gonna get.  Maybe an empty clinic with bored providers eager to break the doldrums of a lazy afternoon by bringing you in for a checkup.  Maybe a stuffy waiting room packed with dozens of exasperated people who were just like me with no choice but to wait.  And wait.  And wait.

My plan was to hit the appointments (arrive fifteen minutes early!) and stop in the various clinics between the scheduled stops.  My first appointment of the day was with orthopedics, so I headed over to get my knees, feet, and ankle checked out.  One of the interesting things about being a Marine is that you tend to use such things as knees, feet, and ankles a lot, and as a result they tend to get broken, sprained, and worn out along the way.  In my case, almost three decades of tromping around coupled with four tours in combat zones had taken their toll.  So I signed into ortho, found a seat in the waiting room, and waited.  After a few minutes (and within ten minutes or so of my scheduled appointment) my name was called.  The very nice doctor (a Naval officer) sat me down in the examination room and looked over her notes.  After exchanging some pleasantries, she got down to business.

The importance of the visit was not to find anything new, but instead to ensure that all facets of my previously treated conditions were properly annotated.  After reviewing my case, she brought everything up to date and assured me that everything would be properly recorded in my record.  She had treated my ankle and feet, but not my knees.  That was at another clinic- and she couldn’t re-evaluate what she hadn’t evaluated in the first place.  D’oh- another appointment on the calendar!

After she was done she directed me to the registrar who was in charge of records.  The registrar could make me an appointment with the clinician who had seen me for my knees over the years.  Ok, thought I.  Easy enough.

Wrong again.

The registrar, a civilian who had been doing the job for a looooooooooooooooong time, asked if she could help.  I explained that I had been treated for a knee injury and needed to make a final followup appointment.  She turned to her computer and with a few efficient but furious keystrokes she looked at me and said that she had no record of my treatment.

No record?  Huh?

I recounted my trips to the sports medicine clinic and the treatment that I had received.

“Ah,” she said, “that is Sports Med, not Ortho.  You have to talk to them.”  “Not ortho?” I meekly asked.  “No!” was her emphatic response.  Needless to say, after I left the registrars office I stepped outside to call sports medicine to make an appointment.  Fortunately they had one available, but unfortunately it was over a month from now.  Good thing I had a little time between now and my EAS!

I then headed off to various other appointments, the particulars of which I won’t subject you to.  What was of note, however, was the kindness and flexibility that many of the walk-in providers exhibited when I attempted to squeeze in and get a signature on my medical checkout sheet.  Some were more receptive than others, and fortunately I had picked a slow day at the hospital.  There were few full waiting rooms, so I was able to see the right practitioners and  garner the necessary signatures without too much hassle.  My hat is off to the audiology department in particular, though, because I showed up outside their posted walk-in hours.  The petty officer behind the desk looked up when I poked my head in the door, and asked if he could help me.  I had hurried up to the clinic after my previous appointment but arrived in his lunch hour.  He took pity on me, and beckoned me into the office.  Whew, I thought.  Great!

What I didn’t realize was that his wife and young child were waiting to go to lunch with him.  Once I saw them, I apologized and turned to leave.  “No problem, sir!  I’ll catch up with them.  It won’t take but a minute.”  His lovely wife and toddler headed out to the car and the good Sailor took care of me.  I felt like a complete jerk, but his professionalism and dedication to his duties were such that he could not in good conscience turn away a patient- even one as inconsiderate and boneheaded as me for intruding on his lunch hour.  At any rate, less than ten minutes later I had completed my audiogram (the hearing test where they put you in a booth with earphones on and you push a little button when you hear high and low pitched tones).  With the efficiency and politeness of a true professional he explained the results of the test, signed my checklist, and headed to lunch.  I apologized again, but he told me not to worry about it because taking care of patients was his job, and lunch could wait.  Man, did I feel like a total heel.

So, after spending a few days over the period of a few months I was able to knock out my final physical.   Along the way I got to meet a lot of interesting people who all shared a common trait: each and every one was a dedicated professional, but in true Navy fashion, were unique in their own way.  A young surfer dude corpsman talked about the beach as he drew seven vials of blood for labwork (“this’ll sting a little, dude, I mean sir…”), and a very pleasant young lady with bright red fingernail polish and a blinged out iPhone that contrasted her uniform took my x-rays.  Another sailor talked about his upcoming vacation plans as he removed some stitches from my arm, mixing his anticipation of mom’s home cooking with the possibility of permanent scarring on my arm if I wasn’t careful with my newly-healed incision.  They were all great Americans, and they took care of me.  And, more importantly, they signed my medical checklist, which allowed me to finish my final checkout from the Marine Corps.

My hat’s off to them.  Thanks, Navy!

__________

Lessons learned:

1.  Make as many appointments as you can as early as you can.  It is important that you review your recent medical history (say over the last five years or so) and personally contact each clinic or provider in order to get on their schedule.  I assumed that all of my appointments were set by the medical staff at the regimental aid station, but I was wrong.  It wasn’t their fault- they didn’t know for example that my knees had been treated at sports med instead of ortho, but as a result I had to wait almost an additional month for my sports med appointment because I didn’t personally make the call.

2.  Don’t be a jerk like I was- only go to walk-in clinics during their appointed hours.  The providers will forego lunch with their family or stay at work late to make up the time they lost while taking care of you out of their professionalism and sense of duty.  The best thing to do is not to put them in the position by showing up during their posted hours.

3.  Be flexible.  If you think that your physical will go with anything close to military precision you are wrong.  I had to sit in waiting rooms for a long time to get all of the checks in the box, and you will too.  I recommend making one appointment first thing in the morning and one right after lunch- if you are the first on the list then you will be seen promptly.  If not, you run the risk of waiting because other consultations went long.  This will also allow you to hit the walk-in clinics after you get done with plenty of time before your next stop.  Don’t schedule more than one appointment in the same morning or afternoon or you will find yourself sprinting between floors in order to make it on time like I did.  Save yourself the hassle and space them out.

4.  Go with the system.  Parts of it will make no sense, like my ortho/sports med confusion.  It is what it is, and when the lady at ortho says you have to go to sports med, then save your breath and go to sports med.  It may not make sense to you, but it is what it is.  They aren’t likely modify their decades old records and appointment database just because you don’t like it.  Trust me.

Final (?) Physical Exam. Or is it? Part 2.

Posted by Mike Grice on

A little while ago I wrote about the importance of lists.  Rather naively I thought that I was pretty much done with them as I approached the completion of my checkout sheet.  As usual, I was wrong.

The mighty checkout sheet, about which I wrote several posts, is the administrative key to the other side of transition.  To my dismay, however, I found that the checkout sheet alone wasn’t mighty enough to set me free.  That required that I complete my final physical examination, and just like everything else involved with transition there was so much more to it than meets the eye.

My last post about the final physical left us at the Regimental Surgeon’s office, where I learned about the complexities of the mother of all physical exams: the vaunted Final Physical.  It is the mother of all examinations because it is no simple or cursory survey, but instead an inexorably thorough inquisition of one’s bodily health and mental condition that left nothing uninspected.

It is for good reason, as I learned from the good surgeon.  My final physical serves as the last chance for me, the soon to be departed from the Marine Corps, to avail myself of military medicine and fix those things that had heretofore been unfixed or ignored in typical macho tough-guy fashion.  While the thought of military medicine may make the reader shudder, it really isn’t bad- in fact it is very good, because military health care providers are well resourced and have had a lot of real world practice over the last decade of war.  The perceived problem with it stems from poor management and care several decades ago- problems that have long been corrected.  The point to the physical was to get me into the best shape possible  before showing me the door, whereupon the Veteran’s Administration would take up the responsibility for my health and wellbeing.  I will write more about the VA later, but suffice it to say that the surgeon’s description of the process made me a believer in the process.

“It’s up to you, sir,” he said, “but you’d be foolish not to take advantage of everything you can.  It’s free, and you have the time to take care of anything that may crop up.”

A wise man, that surgeon.

“You would be smart to contact every [health care] provider that you have seen in the last few years.  They will re-evaluate your condition and record it in your health records.  That will help you in the long run, especially with your disability claim,” he continued.

Disability claim?

Visions of walking canes, wheelchairs, and blue parking spaces rocketed through my head.

He saw my look of horror and chuckled.

“You’ve been in for a long time,” he said as he flipped through my medical record, “your knees are bad, your ankle is bad, your feet are a mess….”  He trailed off as he continued to review my case.  “You are going to be rated with some disabilities, and it is important that the ratings are done correctly.  Don’t worry about it.  It’s a rough life being a Marine, and you are going to be evaluated to make sure that you are taken care of.  Here’s my number.  If you have any problems, have them give me a call.”

As Indiana Jones said to Marion in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”:  It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage.

With a firm handshake, I left his office with my records in one hand and a newly printed checklist in the other.

The checklist was very thorough.  It ranged from lab work (shots anyone?  A vial or two or seven of blood for testing?) to audiograms for my artillery-assaulted ears (What? What did you say?) to an EKG to make sure my ticker still ticked and a chest x-ray to look at my ribs or something else that is equally important.  How was I going to get any of this stuff taken care of?

In true Navy fashion, I had not walked ten feet before a motivated and professional Petty Officer took pity on me and beckoned me to the counter.  “Hi, sir!  Lemme see that,” he said as he pointed to my checklist, “we’ll get you squared away.”

And he did.  With the dexterity of the queen of the typing pool and the suavity of a Tiffany Jewelry salesman he typed, called, cajoled, and printed appointment after appointment for me.  Within ten minutes he had teed up meetings with specialists and medical providers across the base.  Not only did he hit the basic requirements, but also those specialty clinics and providers that I had seen over the last few years- orthopedics for my feet, physical therapy for my knees, optical for my eyes, audiology for my ears….and so on.  With a smile and a cheery “here you go, sir!” he handed me a sheaf of appointment reminders and turned back to his duties.

That’s why Navy medicine is great- they really bent over backwards to make sure I was taken care of.  I have never seen anything like that at a civilian HMO, that’s for sure!  I looked over the appointment reminders and was surprised at just how long it was going to take to knock this final physical out- all told it was going to take over three months to hit all of my appointments.  Three months!  Yikes.  Navy medicine may be helpful, but it isn’t particularly speedy I guess- especially for those of us getting our outprocessing physicals.  Oh well.  Fortunately I had the time.

So, with a feeling of great relief (and a little trepidation, to be sure!) I walked out of the Regimental Aid Station and set out on the journey that would be my final physical.

__________

Lessons Learned:

1.  Start EARLY.  I began my outprocessing physical about four months before I went on terminal leave with the naive expectation that it would be a quick and easy thing to do.  Not so much!

2.  Plan ahead.  Take the time to write a list of all the things that are bothering you or that you have been treated for over the past few years.  Most Marines just “suck it up” and refuse to show weakness by getting medical care, which is good when the Taliban are chucking hand grenades at you but not so good when you are about to get out.  If you do not have your problems recorded in your record then they do not exist.  Simple as that.  And if they do not exist, they cannot be evaluated for disability purposes or for future care in case they get worse.  And they always get worse….

3.  Go into your initial final physical appointment with your notes and with your complete medical record.  You will get out of it what you put into it.  If you blow it off then you will get a rubber stamp with nothing behind it, and possibly lose out on medical benefits or monetary compensation in the future.  The time to be the big tough Marine ends at the hatch to the aid station!

4.  Take notes as you go.  This is important, because you will ultimately have a second set of physicals with the Veteran’s Administration to determine your disability rating.  If you forget what the doctors tell you during their examination you can’t pass that information to the VA, which will weaken your claim for benefits.

Running, sanity, and a worthy cause

Posted by Mike Grice on

Everybody has their Achilles heel, that thing in their life that they dislike, dread, or fear. Some people fear the towering podium of public speaking and for others it is the terror of tall buildings.  We all have them, those real or imagined bumps that show up on the road that is life.  Even the man of steel fears Kryptonite and for me, that thing has been running.

I have never really been a good runner.  As a youngster I was not particularly athletic, and my exposure to running long distances, clapping my hands, and counting to four as a Marine recruit was positively terrifying.  I dreaded falling into formations for physical training because I knew that I just wasn’t good at it.  I would be huffing and puffing, my burning lungs gasping for air as the spectre of falling out and incurring the wrath of the Drill Instructors loomed large over me.  It was even worse when I went to Officer Candidate School because physical fitness was next to (and seemingly slightly more important than) Godliness in the grand scheme of things.  It was particularly petrifying because I was a bit older than the rest of my class due to my time as an enlisted Marine, and it showed.  Where some of my classmates pushed the sound barrier, including one collegiate runner who routinely ran three miles in about fourteen minutes, I was usually threatening the terminal velocity of flowing molasses as I crossed the line almost ten minutes behind him.  My instructors somberly informed me that I was too slow to lead Marines, and unless I get better I would be kicked out of OCS.  I strained and trained and strained some more, and on the big day of our final physical fitness test fate smiled upon me and I made it- but literally by the skin of my teeth.  Every candidate who was followed me across the finish line was dropped from the program and didn’t graduate.  I was the anchor on the chain, but I made it.

My fear and dread of running followed me throughout my career.  I chose to meet my nemesis head on and ran at every chance I could find.  Over years of being running, jogging, and walking long distances I fell into a routine and found myself actually beginning to enjoy it.  With running comes fitness, and with fitness comes the ability to fit in a well fitting uniform while still eating pizza and drinking beer.  Not a bad tradeoff, really.

I also found that running was my personal escape from all the petty and little annoyances in life.  Nobody could call me because I don’t carry my cellphone, and unless they had on their running shoes it was unlikely that they could catch me and bring me down.  I did, and still do, my best thinking as I pound the pavement and trails on my morning run.  In running I have found a balance in life, even though I continue to not be particularly good at it.

I think about life, family, transition, the universe, stock prices, Christmas shopping, you name it.  When I return home I have solved many of the world’s problems, well, at least some of my own.  I am in a good mood, and it starts the day off right.  Over a couple of decades I have mastered my nemesis and embraced it.  That said, I am still pretty slow, but I get out there almost every day to keep from solidifying into a couch potato.

So running has become my road to maintaining my sanity.  I ran whenever I could in combat zones and whenever I could when I was home.  It has become a consistent part of my life, and continues to be so even though I am leaving the Marine Corps and its requirement for top levels of physical fitness.  Retirement is indeed a stark transition from one life to another, and running has provided me with a serene path over the bridge that takes me into what’s next.

So if you are transitioning, make sure to embrace something that will provide consistency through the process.  I have found that running is that thing for me; you needn’t necessarily take up skydiving if you are afraid of heights, but do something.  Read War and Peace.  Write the Great American Novel.  Lift weights.  Tie flies and go fishing.  Do something!  Change is overwhelming at times, and you can be crushed by the forces of uncertainty or carve a piece of yourself out of the rat race and use it to maintain your balance.  It will keep you sane when it seems that everything has gone completely and utterly crazy.

I have learned to enjoy running to the point that have run in several marathons and even more half-marathons.  Despite the pain associated with a career that has been hard on my feet, knees, and back, I find it cathartic to get out and run with thousands of people like me.  To that end, I have decided to couple my running with raising money for charity.

Here is the worthy cause bit; feel free to stop reading if you would like – I promise not to hold it against you!  I have volunteered to raise money for a very good cause: the Lymphoma and Leukemia Society.  I have joined their Team In Training, which essentially is a bunch of runners/joggers/walkers like myself who pledge to raise money and awareness for the society and the impact of those devastating diseases.  I have kids, and am grateful beyond measure because they are healthy.  Not all families are so fortunate, and Leukemia and Lymphoma are devastating diseases that are truly heartwrending in their effects on kids and adults alike.  I am doing my own little part to help them out as I go out and do something that I enjoy- running.  Anyhow, I will be running the Carlsbad Half Marathon in January, and if you would like to support the Lymphoma and Leukemia society with a donation, please follow this link to my donation site:  http://sdhi.lls.llsevent.org/gricemcarlsbadhalf.  The Team in Training and I would be very appreciative!!!