Go read (and see) what it’s like to get blown up by an IED.
It’s been a full day since I survived one of the 1,300 IEDs that target NATO troops every single month in this decade-old war. Compared to the five people air-evac’ed from the blast site, I’m lucky.
I am standing. I can think straight.
But I do not feel well. And for only the second time in my seven-year career as a war correspondent, I am afraid to do my job.
I read over these words I’ve written, and I worry that I’ve focused too much on my own fragmentary experiences, my own frenetic feelings. But then I assure myself there’s no other way to write about getting blown the hell up.