University of New England

Everything More Complicated: Chad Bouchard, UNECOM Class of '09

[Editor's Note: The following profile appeared in the May 2007 COMmunicator]

Heat turned clothing to caramel. The firing range officer, a former Special Forces man, glared at the gaggly line of future doctors, vets, and dentists in disgust, sweat prickling down his neck and blackening his shirt. The military wanted even its health professions trained for war, and no poor-excuse for a firing line would stop him from accomplishing that.

A row of paper targets on perforated posts flapped weakly like headless chickens. The young recruits flopped wide-eyed in the dust. The Special Forces man stood astride the line, slowly raised his pistol parallel to the ground, and without a hint of a smile looked at the youngsters like gulping fish and said, “I’m gonna teech you how to KEEL.” What? Thought Chad, Aren’t we supposed to heal people?

It was a little more complicated than that.

Simplicity Inc.

Youth had seemed more simple. Chad Bouchard grew up in the little Aroostook County town of Frenchville, Maine, on the southern bank of the St. John River, just a long look from Canada. North of Presque Isle, north of Caribou, north of nearly everything else American, the town is a seven-hour drive from Biddeford - as far from UNECOM as Philadelphia.

1,200 hearty souls call the region home, their houses clustering along the rolling hills and wandering dirt roads of potato country. Paul’s Gas and Car Wash is the only service station in town. Fill up your car and grab a bite to eat -  it doubles as a diner. In springtime, white potato blossoms and mustard adorn the fields. Tucked off of Rts. 1 and 162, just a few miles from the deep arboreal forest stretching out hundreds of miles to the southwest, Frenchville is simplicity incorporated.

County folk, says Chad, are hard-working, loyal, and content. The local hospital, the mill industry, logging, and potato farming compete for workers, sponging up labor and providing enough for most people to make a decent living. “Rarely do people leave,” he says during an interview, watching the wind tease whitecaps across Wood Harbor. “If they do leave, they usually don’t come back. But my commitment is to return some day.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “That’s the plan.”

His Dad started working at the paper mill, then switched to managing a local grocery store before going on to sales at a major food distributor. Chad recognizes that both parents have played a part in his unique personality. “I get my outgoing side from the Bouchard half of the family,” Chad quips, “and my quiet side is from the Desjardins. I can talk to anybody, but I’m not afraid of silence.”

“Never Any Free Rides”

Chad loved to fish in the flashing streams that split the valleys near his home. He picked strawberries and wild raspberries, skated on outdoor rinks, and rode his bike to the baseball field during Little League season. “My older brother and I had a typical relationship,” Chad smirks, “we hated each other and fought all the time. I still remember when we were building a tree house and we got into a fight over who would hammer the nails and who had to fetch the wood.” They’ve overcome that dispute.

As a County lad, Chad worked early and hard. “If you were the kid who didn’t work in Northern Maine, you were stereotyped as lazy,” he says, “There were never any free rides.” What sort of work did he do? “I worked in the rec programs prepping fields, did some farming, and washed lots of dishes - lots of dishes,” he smiles.

School started in August, then let out for three weeks in September for the potato harvest. Growers and shippers like Cyr Potato Corp. or Dawn Till Done Farm hired kids as unskilled labor. “Everyone helped,” Chad says, “You’d start maybe 5:30am and work until dark. Made $500 a week picking rocks from the harvester.” Anyone ever injured? “Oh, yeah,” Chad nods, “a good friend of mine got his arm messed up in the conveyer.” It was part of life.

One Tired Light
 
Wisdom High in little St. Agatha converted Chad to soccer. “There were only 37 people in my class,” he says, “so everyone made varsity. I played basketball and volleyball, was the starting pitcher, and began playing soccer as a sophomore.” And fell in love. “Our soccer pitch was a leveled potato field,” he laughs, “but it was tilted downhill on one end. It was taxing to run uphill, and the ball always rolled away, but I loved it.”

During potato harvest, the soccer season sputtered. Chad worked all day picking rocks from the belts, then raced over to Wisdom High as dusk clattered down. The soccer field had no lights, but that didn’t matter. “You know those street lights that get really bright, then go out for no reason?” Chad asks rhetorically. “Well, we had one of those at Wisdom, and it was the only light there. I’d bring my soccer ball to where that light was and wait for it to turn on. I’d do my drills for a few minutes, and then the light would flicker and go out again. I’d sit there and wait for it to come back on.” He laughs and hunches down, eyes darting back and forth. “Sounds kinda crazy, huh?”

He was a bit of a daydreamer in school and could cover notebooks with doodles, but he liked biology and chemistry, since Mr. Michaud was also the coach for every sport. “That was no accident!” Chad laughs conspiratorially. He worked hard academically, mostly to get his homework out of the way so that he could play. “I wanted to be a professional athlete,” he says, “didn’t everyone?”

A $20 Bill

Then the daydream ended. “My parents split up during my junior year,” Chad says quietly, “and that same year, my Mom had an aneurysm and nearly died. That really woke me up. And my brother joined the Marines during that time. Overnight, I had to become a man.” It was a tough transition, and Chad had to work out the kinks as he learned responsibility and realized that he couldn’t be a kid any longer. There was one defining moment.

“I remember that I wanted to go to a concert in Portland with some friends. I went to my Mom, who was recovering at Maine Medical Center from her aneurysm, and said, ‘Hey Ma, can I have $20?’” Chad recalls. “She reached into her purse and gave me a $20 bill. When I came back from the concert, my aunt and uncle sat me down in the living room. My aunt said, ‘Chad, you know that $20 that your Mom gave you? Well that was the last $20 that she had.’ I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t have any savings or checking or anything – that was it. It broke my heart to see how selfish I had been.”

After high school graduation, he sat at the kitchen table with a Marine recruiter by his side and his mother standing by. “A lot of County folk join up after high school,” Chad says, “and I respected my brother’s decision to join the Corps and wanted to follow in his footsteps. I had the pen in my hand and the paper right there, and I said, ‘You know what, maybe I should get an education first.’ I figured I could always go in later as an officer.” So he went to school.

Man of Few Goals

He was recruited to play soccer at a college in North Carolina, but was so homesick out of state that he promptly returned home. “I’d never been out of Maine except for a couple of Red Sox games with my Dad,” he says. “That was the first time I’d ever flown.” He enrolled at UMaine Farmington, where he met a girl, dated her, and followed her all the way to the University of Southern Maine for a year.

“I didn’t like living in the city,” Chad says, as if Portland was New York or LA, “and a lot of people seemed really materialistic, but I played soccer and made some good friends.” After two years, Chad left and returned to the welcoming arms of UMaine Fort Kent. With a simple blue-collar work ethic and a ‘never give up’ attitude, Chad became an outstanding keeper. It was there at the tip of The County that he was at the top of his game.

During his junior year, Chad was 30 minutes into the first game of the season when he landed hard after a blocked shot. “I figured my arm was sprained,” he recalls sheepishly, recounting the story with the endearing shame of a reluctant hero. “I stayed in the game and made the winning save during penalty kicks. Only after the game did I find out that my arm was broken.”

During his senior year at UMFK, Chad served as captain and allowed only five goals during the entire season, a Conference record still. “The team only allowed five goals,” he says, reflecting a well-developed sense of inter-dependence. Still, it was Chad who earned All-American scholar-athlete honors. Besides coaching at a few soccer camps, it was his last athletic hurrah. Deeper waters beckoned.

The Tractor Turned Ice Cream

Only a handful of UMFK graduates have ever become doctors, and Chad wasn’t thinking of swelling their slim ranks. “I double-majored in biology and behavioral sciences,” he recalls, “there were maybe five people in my chemistry class. I wanted to go into healthcare, but as an EMT, or maybe a Physician’s Assistant.”

It is easy to see the behavioral sciences in Chad. He is a thinker – a ponderer, really – and sometimes analyzes a situation to extremes. While working as a bartender after college, Chad discussed life plans with a friend. The other fellow, a lifelong County resident, listened to Chad’s convoluted reasoning and confused desires, looked him straight in the eye, and barked, “Chad, you always make everything more complicated!”

He spent the year after graduation in EMT classes, working to become a paramedic. But it wasn’t long before his mentor, State Senator John Martin, convinced him to become a doctor. “I went through the arduous MCAT process, and didn’t do so well,” Chad admits, “but finally got my scores up to where they needed to be. I applied only to UNECOM - it was the only school I wanted to attend – and then waited.”

A few months after his interview, Chad realized that he hadn’t a good shot. Then the phone rang. “It was Dean Shannon [former Dean of UNECOM], and he said, ‘I’d like to give you a seat in the class.’ All I could say was, ‘Really? Thank you. Thank you.’ Over and over. I said, ‘I won’t let you down.’”

His acceptance to medical school was cause for celebration – by the entire town. “My Mom found out and told everyone else in Frenchville,” Chad recalls. “The whole town threw a fundraiser for me and raised over $4,000.00. It was unbelievable. They had a tractor pull, homemade ice cream, horse rides; they sold tickets and everything. One fellow hooked his tractor up to a huge bucket of ice and milk and the tractor churned the ice cream.” Chad still looks overwhelmed. “In Frenchville, when something tragic or good happens, the town supports you.” When Chad left for UNECOM, all of Frenchville lost a son.

Academy: Life

Medical school is not at all what Chad imagined. “The material isn’t the hardest part,” he sighs, “it’s the social aspect, the life aspect. The sacrifices that are necessary with the burden of leaving loved ones. At times, my family and some friends still don’t understand why I can’t come home more often, even on breaks, or why I can’t talk much on the phone. I’ll tell you, it’s like a life academy; it frames you as an individual and how you deal with life. You learn to build yourself up as a person.”

In this light, Chad has sought out a number of new challenges, running several half-marathons, training for a marathon, and traveling abroad. But simple pastimes are still his bread and butter: He tools around on his rust-colored re-built Jeep to relieve stress, and spends time with friends to balance his studies.

Chad knows that his own life preparation will help him to become a better physician. “ ‘Doctor’ is Latin for ‘teacher,’” he reflects, “and you need to learn how to live and then teach that to others. That’s what osteopathy is all about.” He finds it tough to see other classmates struggle, but also realizes that his class provides a tremendous support network for hurting members. “This is the best class ever,” he brags, “I have so many great friends. People pull together and support each other. It’s wonderful to experience – it would be foolish to go at this alone.”
  
Big Time Hot

In some ways, when Chad was accepted to medical school he came full circle to that little kitchen table back in Frenchville. “I talked to a recruiter and decided to join the Army’s Health Professions Scholarship Program (HPSP),” Chad says. “It is really good training, and it’s not just about the finances. For me, it means that I can have a degree of security in terms of having a job, getting a residency, and having a solid family life.”

To be candid, Chad is not averse to the rougher parts of the job, since he loves to be outdoors and considered the Officer Basic course at Camp Bullis a bit of a lark. “They were popping smoke and simulating explosions,” Chad grins, “and it was a good time. We were supposed to defend our perimeter, and also learn how to navigate at night.” But it wasn’t all fun and games. “It was at least 100-105 degrees,” Chad remembers, “and when we drilled for chemical and biological warfare tactics training and put on all of our MOP gear, it was at least 135 degrees in the suit. Big time hot!”

Chad is interested in orthopedics, ophthalmology, and emergency medicine, without really having narrowed anything down. He spent a week at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany with Steve Brady, D.O., UNECOM ’98, a former Navy SEAL and current Army ophthalmologist who is a major mentor and positive influence in Chad’s life. “Dr. Brady is outstanding,” says Chad, “and has really been a model for me of what it means to live a balanced life and be excellent.”

A Time to Kill?

Chad does not regret raising his right hand. He believes in the County ideals of loyalty to God and to country. His brother is likely to be deployed, and his best friend from high school, Jody, is an Army Ranger who is training to become a Green Beret. “These guys could go to war at any time,” Chad says, “and I need to step forward, too. Overall, I think it is a great decision for me, and I’d do it again.”

Though it does come with some complications. On a recent trip to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, home of the 82nd Airborne Division, Chad noticed a large new granite memorial to paratroopers killed in the War on Terror. It was nearly eight feet tall, four-sided, with wide white flanks already filling with names. He had a sick feeling that the creamy sides were far too small. And what will his role in all of this be? “When that Special Forces officer was teaching us to shoot at Fort Sam Houston, I was like, ‘Huh? I’m here to help people get well,'” Chad says. Even in war, he never intends to kill. 

The simple appeal of County life remains strong. Chad imagines that he’ll stay in the military for a while, but his intent to return someday to The County to practice medicine remains. “That’s my commitment,” he says, “I want to be a Little League coach like my Dad in some small town and be able to raise my kids in a nice setting and fish the freshwater streams.”

Barring any complications.

-Steve Smith, RSAS