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Image by United States Marine Corps Official Page
A suicide bomber in Iraq injured Marine veteran Keith Buckmon, native of Capitol Heights, Md., in 2008, resulting in the complete reconstruction of both of his legs and his right arm using bone grafts and metal plates. Buckmon has also struggled with losing the Marines who died during the attack and battles the symptoms post-traumatic stress disorder every day. Now, Buckmon is an athlete in the 2013 Marine Corps Trials who competes in seated volleyball, wheelchair basketball, seated shot put and discus and shooting. Buckmon says his wife and two daughters, Damaris Buckmon, Iz’Abella Amaris Buckmon and Jy’Zella-leilani Grace Clark, are his motivation to keep pushing to get better because he strives to be a good husband and father. Buckmon has a tattoo on his shoulder that depicts a Purple Heart medal and the date he was injured. The Trials is an opportunity for wounded Marines, veterans and allies to compete in wheelchair basketball, sitting volleyball, track and field, swimming, archery and shooting. The top 50 athletes will go on to compete against wounded warriors from the other branches of military service at the Warrior Games in Colorado Springs, Colo., in May.
(U.S. Marine Corps photo by Cpl. Tyler L. Main)
you’re the target I’m aiming at
Image by This Year’s Love
I really thought I was having a heart attack at work. It came on suddenly, this terrible ache in my sternum and ribcage. I barely kept from doubling over as I was walking up to the tower to give Tom something. I stood there, blinking and taking a deep breath. "Um….yeah….I’m kind of in pain," I muttered and he was like, "Huh? What? What’s wrong??" and when I said chest pains he freaked and said, "Are you having a heart attack???" "No…." "Don’t joke around! I’ll call 911." "No, I’m fine." It went on for a while, subsiding to sharp twinges and a dull ache. I found a thing of Tums and ate five of them. Every symptom I had was indicating that I was having a heart attack but I worked through it. I know, retarded. But I think it had a lot to do with not eating and not having enough sugar.
At one point I was crouched over my knees in my chair rubbing my temples with Janet asking me if I was okay and Steve coming up and asking, "Are you okay? Are you not feeling good? Do you need anything?" and I just shook my head and said "I just hope I’m not having a heart attack." "Okay…."
I was listless the rest of the night, just not feeling all there, answering the phones in a slurred voice. I was totally coherent, just very … blah.
I’m fine now.