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jennog's review against another edition
4.0
Not all heroes wear capes. Jon Kerstetter is an amazing man who has done amazing things and has been in amazing circumstances. How does a Native American child living on a reservation end up a Doctor-soldier in Iraq overseeing the forensics of Saddam Hussein’s sons? How does he crossover from a doctor to a patient? And is this not the bravest action of all? This is a truly inspiring story about a man’s perseverance and determination to achieve his goals in life to do something to help the greater good and become a better person.
This book touched upon the real life effects of war, including PTSD. Kerstetter does a great job of explaining the situations he was in and is able to describe what it’s like as a patient with a physician background.
This book touched upon the real life effects of war, including PTSD. Kerstetter does a great job of explaining the situations he was in and is able to describe what it’s like as a patient with a physician background.
thuglibrarian's review against another edition
5.0
There are many stories written about war but this book is unique in that it's written by a Dr. whose mission was to heal, and to kill. Kerstetter, a native American who is a member of Oneida Tribe, holds nothing back recounting his 3 tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. The goal of a Dr. is to save lives, but at what point is life salvageable? Deciding when a body is compatible with life was something that he dealt with on a daily basis and one that almost guaranteed that he would suffer from PTSD. He endured all the horrors of war, only to be diagnosed with an aneurysm and had a debilitating stroke that prevented him from practicing medicine. This is the rare mixture of medicine and philosophy, combined with being a gripping war memoir that doesn't blink from the horrific scenes. Scenes that you can not turn away from, as much as you want to.
I received an advance copy and was not compensated.
I received an advance copy and was not compensated.
liralen's review against another edition
3.0
Crossings is two stories: first Kerstetter's journey to becoming a doctor and joining the army (both later in life than your average med students and army recruits), and then his experience recovering from a stroke that ended his career.
My reaction here is a little complicated. Kerstetter has a ton of material to pull from, and a ton of life experience. The end of the book also gives some perspective in terms of just how hard he must have had to work to turn this into a cohesive story, because the stroke damaged so many of the capabilities needed for this kind of work. It's so clearly not the book he would have wanted to write: he would have wanted the second half to look much more like the first half, detailing tours with the military and high-stakes, fast-paced work with trauma patients.
But my strongest takeaways aren't really about his work, or about his stroke. They're 1) his poor wife and 2) that his approach to medicine makes me a little sad.
On the first point: just, oof. So many decisions that she wasn't privy to. Kerstetter became a doctor as a second career, against the reservations of his wife. Then he joined the National Guard, again against his wife's reservations. Did some humanitarian work in recent war zones, again (say it with me) against his wife's reservations. Volunteered for a military tour and then implied to his wife and kids (as far as I can tell) that his deployment wasn't by choice. (Had his tour extended, not by choice, and asks how he's supposed to tell his family, because apparently that's harder than (not) telling your family that you've chosen to deploy.) Kept his medical diagnoses from his family. And then later, home and trying to make strikes in stroke rehab, absolutely fucking refused to acknowledge that PTSD might be a problem, even as he says this: On the other side of my nightmare, Collin [his wife] screamed and cried as she took the brunt of my war-fed panic. I kicked and kneed and punched her with a closed fist, and I didn't stop until she woke me up. Once, according to her, I got her in a chokehold and she panicked. When I finally woke to her screams, I felt fear and sorrow and shame. And I wanted to hide myself or run away so I couldn't hurt her (300).
Kerstetter describes his work in humanitarian scenarios this way: I had left my own children in the care of their mother, fully sheltered, safe, with ample food and extra money for weekend entertainment while I was gone. They would survive with barely a ripple in their routines and perhaps barely a [sic] notice that I was gone. The mother and child before me were hours to days away from their deaths. I became desperate to save them, to show them that I valued their lives (65). And—he's not wrong that his work there had much more immediate, life-saving possibilities than a lot of what he was doing back home. But the implication that as long as the material comforts are there at home, that's all that matters...that makes me uncomfortable. I wanted that unpacked. I suspect the family would have told a very different story.
Ditto the question of PTSD: Over and over and over again, we see Kerstetter chafe against the possibility that he might be dealing with it. To me, the diagnosis lacked clinical objectivity. I didn't deny that it was real and that soldiers experienced it, but I battled against it with a military frame of mind, the toughness/weakness paradigm: soldiers are tough; PTSD is a sign of mental weakness... I hated the term "PTSD" because of its overwrought emphasis on the word "disorder" and its implied status of emotional incompetence (293). Y'all...if it's how you feel or felt, okay. Can't change that for the sake of a memoir! But you've got to UNPACK THAT SHIT. If you're going to talk at length about your dislike of the idea of having PTSD, and also mention that oh yeah, your unacknowledged PTSD presented a physical danger to your wife, then jesus fucking christ you can do better than saying 'oh, I felt really bad about it'.
And to the second point, about medicine...I don't know. One of the reasons Kerstetter was so eager to go on military tours was that he thrived on high-stakes medicine, on life-and-death trauma work. He's dismissive of anything that isn't immediately life-and-death.
There's a recurring theme of death here—as you'd expect in stories of both trauma medicine and of war—but oh man, again, I'd have loved some more unpacking there. There are at least three places where Kerstetter talks about bodies and not wanting to deal with them. On the subject of making forensic IDs on Uday and Qusay Hussein: I protested mildly, stating that I was too far out of my lane of expertise. What I really meant was I wanted out of a mission that focused on the dead. I wanted to spend my time in trauma care and emergency medicine, not on some politically expedient experiment (106). On visiting a local morgue that was extremely short on resources: I wanted to run from the images and the smells and the institute. I turned to walk away and said I had seen enough, but Dr. Bakr told me there was more. I said curtly that I didn't need to see anymore [sic]. He kept reminding me about the lack of refrigeration and supplies. I demanded we move from the courtyard, insisting we were finished. "I don't need to see all this shit," I snapped. "I get it!" (138) When working with bodies after a bombing that resulted in mass casualties: When I walked into the morgue tent, I was almost overwhelmed by the sight of body bags and the iron smell of blood. If it had not been for the presence of Colonel Gagliano and Ambassador Kennedy, I think I would have left (151). On identifying bodies after a crash: I had learned the identities of those killed by the process of elimination and from the information on the flight plans, but I had not seen their remains. I asked the commander if I could cross-check the mission assignments and flight logs to make the identifications, then I could sign the death certificates. But he wanted me to get positive identification, which could not be done by simply cross-checking the flight logs. "We need physical confirmation," he ordered.
"Yes, sir" was all I said in reply. I said it professionally, respectfully, and dutifully, but I also said it with dread (183).
I'm fascinated by this because it seems to be so at odds with everything else he does. No problem working with blood and guts, no problem with wielding a gun and perhaps sending somebody else to a morgue. Not that I can blame anyone for not wanting to work with bodies, especially bodies in various states of filth and decomposition. But I think this is a more complicated question for somebody who has chosen to be both doctor and soldier, and it would have been really interesting to see that acknowledged/discussed more directly.
My reaction here is a little complicated. Kerstetter has a ton of material to pull from, and a ton of life experience. The end of the book also gives some perspective in terms of just how hard he must have had to work to turn this into a cohesive story, because the stroke damaged so many of the capabilities needed for this kind of work. It's so clearly not the book he would have wanted to write: he would have wanted the second half to look much more like the first half, detailing tours with the military and high-stakes, fast-paced work with trauma patients.
But my strongest takeaways aren't really about his work, or about his stroke. They're 1) his poor wife and 2) that his approach to medicine makes me a little sad.
On the first point: just, oof. So many decisions that she wasn't privy to. Kerstetter became a doctor as a second career, against the reservations of his wife. Then he joined the National Guard, again against his wife's reservations. Did some humanitarian work in recent war zones, again (say it with me) against his wife's reservations. Volunteered for a military tour and then implied to his wife and kids (as far as I can tell) that his deployment wasn't by choice. (Had his tour extended, not by choice, and asks how he's supposed to tell his family, because apparently that's harder than (not) telling your family that you've chosen to deploy.) Kept his medical diagnoses from his family. And then later, home and trying to make strikes in stroke rehab, absolutely fucking refused to acknowledge that PTSD might be a problem, even as he says this: On the other side of my nightmare, Collin [his wife] screamed and cried as she took the brunt of my war-fed panic. I kicked and kneed and punched her with a closed fist, and I didn't stop until she woke me up. Once, according to her, I got her in a chokehold and she panicked. When I finally woke to her screams, I felt fear and sorrow and shame. And I wanted to hide myself or run away so I couldn't hurt her (300).
Kerstetter describes his work in humanitarian scenarios this way: I had left my own children in the care of their mother, fully sheltered, safe, with ample food and extra money for weekend entertainment while I was gone. They would survive with barely a ripple in their routines and perhaps barely a [sic] notice that I was gone. The mother and child before me were hours to days away from their deaths. I became desperate to save them, to show them that I valued their lives (65). And—he's not wrong that his work there had much more immediate, life-saving possibilities than a lot of what he was doing back home. But the implication that as long as the material comforts are there at home, that's all that matters...that makes me uncomfortable. I wanted that unpacked. I suspect the family would have told a very different story.
Ditto the question of PTSD: Over and over and over again, we see Kerstetter chafe against the possibility that he might be dealing with it. To me, the diagnosis lacked clinical objectivity. I didn't deny that it was real and that soldiers experienced it, but I battled against it with a military frame of mind, the toughness/weakness paradigm: soldiers are tough; PTSD is a sign of mental weakness... I hated the term "PTSD" because of its overwrought emphasis on the word "disorder" and its implied status of emotional incompetence (293). Y'all...if it's how you feel or felt, okay. Can't change that for the sake of a memoir! But you've got to UNPACK THAT SHIT. If you're going to talk at length about your dislike of the idea of having PTSD, and also mention that oh yeah, your unacknowledged PTSD presented a physical danger to your wife, then jesus fucking christ you can do better than saying 'oh, I felt really bad about it'.
And to the second point, about medicine...I don't know. One of the reasons Kerstetter was so eager to go on military tours was that he thrived on high-stakes medicine, on life-and-death trauma work. He's dismissive of anything that isn't immediately life-and-death.
"I know you're not totally happy with the ER," she said, after one of my shifts. "What are you thinking about the military?"
"I just want other options. Relocating to a trauma center doesn't seem realistic with our family."
"It's not," she responded.
"I think the National Guard might provide a challenge."
"But why do you always need a challenge?"
"I don't," I claimed, "but half my time is wasted in the ER. It's not exactly what I wanted." (49)And I think this sort of sums it up: if it isn't the exact kind of medicine he's interested in, then, well, he's not interested. If a case didn't involve trauma or bleeding, I didn't consider it a real emergency. I still responded to cardiac emergencies with speed and professional acumen, but even those cases became less challenging than they had been before I deployed. At the end of a typical ER shift, I felt like the whole experience of practicing medicine lacked importance and vitality (156). Among other things, I'd like to know: did his experience as a stroke patient make him think any differently? A stroke would absolutely not have met his criteria for a 'real emergency', after all. I'm sure all this made him a bang-up trauma doctor, but I'm sorely disappointed by the lack of analysis here.
There's a recurring theme of death here—as you'd expect in stories of both trauma medicine and of war—but oh man, again, I'd have loved some more unpacking there. There are at least three places where Kerstetter talks about bodies and not wanting to deal with them. On the subject of making forensic IDs on Uday and Qusay Hussein: I protested mildly, stating that I was too far out of my lane of expertise. What I really meant was I wanted out of a mission that focused on the dead. I wanted to spend my time in trauma care and emergency medicine, not on some politically expedient experiment (106). On visiting a local morgue that was extremely short on resources: I wanted to run from the images and the smells and the institute. I turned to walk away and said I had seen enough, but Dr. Bakr told me there was more. I said curtly that I didn't need to see anymore [sic]. He kept reminding me about the lack of refrigeration and supplies. I demanded we move from the courtyard, insisting we were finished. "I don't need to see all this shit," I snapped. "I get it!" (138) When working with bodies after a bombing that resulted in mass casualties: When I walked into the morgue tent, I was almost overwhelmed by the sight of body bags and the iron smell of blood. If it had not been for the presence of Colonel Gagliano and Ambassador Kennedy, I think I would have left (151). On identifying bodies after a crash: I had learned the identities of those killed by the process of elimination and from the information on the flight plans, but I had not seen their remains. I asked the commander if I could cross-check the mission assignments and flight logs to make the identifications, then I could sign the death certificates. But he wanted me to get positive identification, which could not be done by simply cross-checking the flight logs. "We need physical confirmation," he ordered.
"Yes, sir" was all I said in reply. I said it professionally, respectfully, and dutifully, but I also said it with dread (183).
I'm fascinated by this because it seems to be so at odds with everything else he does. No problem working with blood and guts, no problem with wielding a gun and perhaps sending somebody else to a morgue. Not that I can blame anyone for not wanting to work with bodies, especially bodies in various states of filth and decomposition. But I think this is a more complicated question for somebody who has chosen to be both doctor and soldier, and it would have been really interesting to see that acknowledged/discussed more directly.
amylee218's review against another edition
3.0
I won this book in a giveaway. Dr. Kerstetter's story of being a doctor/soldier was interesting, but the fact that he wrote this book after a multi-focal stroke is really impressive. My husband has a traumatic brain injury due to repeated concussions from a seizure disorder so I know what it is like for someone live with a brain injury and the challenges and frustrations it brings. This story gives me hope because it shows what is possible. I second the reviewer who stated that his wife, Collin, was a hero and didn't get enough time in the book. She supported him in all ways throughout their marriage.
mathstalio's review against another edition
3.0
This is not a topic I would normally pick up a book about - solider doctor, stroke recovery patient, medicine and war. I read it because the author is the father of one of my sisters best friends - I know parts of his story from small interactions with him and was intrigued on a personal level.
The story is fascinating and well woven. Kerstetter talks about the dilemma of being a soldier trained to kill and a doctor trained to kill at the same time and the pulls in different directions. I found a lot of the war stories hard to read - again, this is not something I would normally choose to read about. The most impactful parts were his discussion of identity after his stroke and I enjoyed reading the last half of the book immensely.
This would be a higher rating for me personally if it were more in my wheelhouse topic wise - the story is well shared and worth sharing. If this topic in any way interests you, definitely pick this one up!
The story is fascinating and well woven. Kerstetter talks about the dilemma of being a soldier trained to kill and a doctor trained to kill at the same time and the pulls in different directions. I found a lot of the war stories hard to read - again, this is not something I would normally choose to read about. The most impactful parts were his discussion of identity after his stroke and I enjoyed reading the last half of the book immensely.
This would be a higher rating for me personally if it were more in my wheelhouse topic wise - the story is well shared and worth sharing. If this topic in any way interests you, definitely pick this one up!
jlmb's review against another edition
2.0
I received this book by entering a Goodreads giveaway. I entered the giveaway because the book blurb seemed intriguing- the goals of a doctor and of a soldier are diametrically opposed. One takes lives and the other tries to save lives. A memoir discussing the conflicts between the two seemed worth checking out.
I struggled to finish this book. Usually a book this length is something I read in 2 days, not 2 weeks. I found myself doing anything other than picking up this book - checking email, playing solitaire, even doing the dishes. They were all more appealing than reading this book. It was only my compulsion to finish every book I start that caused me to plow through and finish.
Once I got to the part of the book where the author suffers a major stroke, I felt like a jerk for critiquing the book and finding it poorly written and organized. If I had known that fact from the beginning I would have cut him more slack. I mean, as a book written by someone who suffered a stroke less than 10 years ago and lost the ability to read and write, this memoir deserves a 4 or 5 star rating. It's impressive he could recover enough to write this. However, if I am not grading on a curve then the memoir earns 1 or 2 stars. I give it 2 stars for having an fascinating premise. It's the execution of the premise that is no good. Just because someone has lived a compelling life doesn't automatically make them a good writer.
I struggled to finish this book. Usually a book this length is something I read in 2 days, not 2 weeks. I found myself doing anything other than picking up this book - checking email, playing solitaire, even doing the dishes. They were all more appealing than reading this book. It was only my compulsion to finish every book I start that caused me to plow through and finish.
Once I got to the part of the book where the author suffers a major stroke, I felt like a jerk for critiquing the book and finding it poorly written and organized. If I had known that fact from the beginning I would have cut him more slack. I mean, as a book written by someone who suffered a stroke less than 10 years ago and lost the ability to read and write, this memoir deserves a 4 or 5 star rating. It's impressive he could recover enough to write this. However, if I am not grading on a curve then the memoir earns 1 or 2 stars. I give it 2 stars for having an fascinating premise. It's the execution of the premise that is no good. Just because someone has lived a compelling life doesn't automatically make them a good writer.
jill_rey's review against another edition
4.0
I was excited to read Dr. Kerstetter’s memoir given my own connections to the military (my father was in the navy) and the medical field (my mother’s entire career has been in medicine). I thought my deepest connections to this book would be via these avenues through my own parents, but I was so incredibly wrong. This book could have been a message on resilience, but even more than that I connected to Dr. Kerstetter’s hunger for MORE. He constantly pushed himself, for fear of complacency or to feed his inner drive, regardless of the motives, I connected to him deeply throughout this book. The latter portion of this book is dedicated to Jon’s recovery and realization that, as a result of his stroke, he would no longer be able to practice medicine or serve in the military. To be ripped of such a huge part of one’s identity is unfathomable, but Dr. Kerstetter allows the reader to see the truth in his struggle. A very impressive 4 star read!
For the full review, please visit: https://fortheloveofthepageblog.wordpress.com/
For the full review, please visit: https://fortheloveofthepageblog.wordpress.com/
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