They Started in Basic Training. Today, They Help Save Lives Together.

July 14, 2026, , , ,

USU Alumnae Juana Conde and Kennedy Goodwin met in Basic Military Training and now follow parallel paths as respiratory therapists.  

Airman 1st Class Kennedy Goodwin (left) and Airman 1st Class Juana Conde (right) simulate an emergency nebulizer treatment at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)
Airman 1st Class Kennedy Goodwin (left) and Airman 1st Class Juana Conde (right) simulate an emergency nebulizer treatment at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)

July 15, 2026 by Sharon Holland

Airmen 1st Class Juana Conde and Kennedy Goodwin met in Basic Military Training (BMT), sleeping just a few feet apart with no idea their paths would cross again. Today, they work side by side as respiratory therapists at David Grant Medical Center at Travis Air Force Base, Calif., stepping into the room when a patient’s breathing falters, managing airways and ventilators. 

They weren't classmates, and they weren't colleagues. They were bunkmates, two Airmen adjusting to military life and moving through long days and unfamiliar routines. In BMT, everything is shared: space, stress, exhaustion, and the uncertainty of what comes next.  Neither could have known that the person in the next bunk would one day become a colleague in the most critical moments of patient care.  

"From being BMT bunk buddies to now serving at the same MTF [military medical treatment facility], it has been incredibly rewarding to watch each other's growth, resilience, and confidence develop over the years," Conde said. "Seeing how far we've come, both personally and professionally, makes this journey even more meaningful."

They work in a field where patients often cannot breathe on their own, and where every decision carries immediate weight. Back then, they were just trying to make it through training. Now, they are clinicians who respond when every second matters.

Two Different Beginnings, One Shared Path

Neither Airman set out with a clear roadmap to respiratory therapy.

For Conde, the path was personal. Her son was born with a complex congenital heart condition, an experience that reshaped how she saw medicine as something immediate and life-defining rather than distant or abstract. It became a calling rooted in understanding and in the desire to help others facing similar uncertainty.

Goodwin's path began differently. She entered the military with a bachelor's degree in kinesiology and an initial plan to pursue physical therapy. Respiratory therapy wasn't part of that original vision. It entered later, during military training, and stayed, because of what it asked of her and what it allowed her to give.

Airman 1st Class Kennedy Goodwin educates a patient on the proper use of a 24-hour blood pressure monitoring device at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)
Airman 1st Class Kennedy Goodwin educates a patient on the proper use of a 24-hour blood pressure monitoring device at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)

The Part of Training No One Sees

During the demanding respiratory therapy program at the Medical Education and Training Campus, Conde and Goodwin weren't just learning a new profession. They were also earning credit toward degrees through the Uniformed Services University's (USU) College of Allied Health Sciences (CAHS). The pace was challenging. 

Years of material are compressed into months. Expectations are high. And every lesson carries the awareness that it will one day matter for a real patient.

It is there that both Airmen learned not only technical skills, but also something harder to teach: composure under pressure, trust in a team, and the responsibility that comes with intervening when a life depends on it.

It was also there, without planning, that their connection deepened, from bunkmates to peers walking the same demanding path.

The Reality of the Job

At David Grant Medical Center, that training becomes reality without pause. There is no easing into the shift. No gradual ramp. Just patients in distress, alarms that demand action, and the constant need to assess, adjust, and respond. 

Conde describes a part of the profession most people never see.

“I wish more people understood that respiratory therapists do much more than administer breathing treatments,” she said. “We play a critical role in managing airways, ventilators, and life-saving interventions that directly impact patient outcomes.”

The work is technical, but its impact is deeply human. Sometimes that impact reveals itself in small moments that linger long after the shift ends. 

Goodwin remembers caring for a burn patient who had undergone a tracheostomy and was preparing to use a speaking valve for the first time. Much of the patient’s recovery had been marked by silence, with communication reduced to observation and reassurance.

She continued explaining each step of care anyway, steady and routine. Later, the patient responded.

“They thanked me for talking to them throughout their plan of care even when they could not speak back,” Goodwin recalled. “For something I was taught to be standard practice, it made that patient feel seen and comforted.”

What is routine in a training manual can feel human at the bedside.

A Different Kind of Urgency

Conde remembers a different kind of urgency, the kind that arrives without warning and leaves only after the work is done.

An elderly patient arrived in severe respiratory acidosis. The response moved quickly: arterial blood gases, ventilator support, stabilization, constant reassessment until the patient returned to baseline.  

It is the kind of sequence that looks procedural on paper but feels different in real time.

“The most rewarding part of serving as a respiratory therapist is knowing that our skills and interventions can make an immediate difference in a patient's outcome during some of their most critical moments,” she said.

In those moments, time narrows to what is in front of you. Nothing else matters until the breath returns.

Airman 1st Class Juana Conde assists a patient during a Pulmonary Function Test at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)
Airman 1st Class Juana Conde assists a patient during a Pulmonary Function Test at David Grant Medical Center, Travis Air Force Base, California, July 10, 2026. (Photo credit: Staff Sgt. Angela David, DGMC)

More than a Milestone

Earning an associate degree from USU’s CAHS represents more than academic completion. It marks the point at which training becomes identity, when knowledge is no longer theoretical, but accountable to real lives.

For Conde, the achievement carries an additional weight. 

“I am most proud of persevering through the challenges and reaching this milestone while setting an example for my son,” she said. “Knowing that he has been watching my journey every step of the way makes this accomplishment even more meaningful.”

A Constant Through Changing Assignments

Careers will shift. Assignments will change. The rhythm of military medicine guarantees movement. But the connection that began in BMT has remained a constant.

“We learned to lean on each other,” Goodwin said. “It has been great to have someone who will hold me accountable to strive to be my best—and vice versa.”

It is a simple sentence, but it carries the weight of shared beginnings: two people who met at the start of their military lives, and who now meet again in the most vulnerable moments of others’ lives.

Preparing the Next Airmen

At USU’s College of Allied Health Sciences, that outcome is the quiet goal: to prepare enlisted medical professionals who are not only technically capable, but steady enough to act when it matters most.

For Conde and Goodwin, that mission didn’t begin in a classroom or a clinic.

It began with two bunks side by side, in a place where the future was still unknown.

Today, it continues in hospital rooms where everything depends on what happens next, and on two Airmen who learned, together, how to meet that moment.