Compensation and Pension Exams... one of the reasons the system is broken (aka Our Hellish Day at the VA)

As I write this I'm sitting in our VA waiting on my husband who is in a *THREE* hour C&P (Compensation and Pension) exam with a doctor he's never met without a caregiver present.  This is my husband who many days can't leave the house because he simply can't deal with the chance of meeting unknown people. This is my husband that because of TBI often has a hard time maintaining focus for 5 minutes, much less three hours. This is my husband whom if you ask questions in a way that is too long or too convoluted, will give the wrong answer almost every time (not because he's lying, but because by that point he's not sure what to say and is just going to give you some answer). This is my husband that by the time they called him back for the exam was literally vibrating he was so anxious and had to go outside to get away (and then I had to figure out whether to go with him, or wait so that I could tell the doctor where he was when they called... may sound like a simple decision, but it's actually agonizing). This is also my husband who recently did the Gulf War Registry Exam (at our VA it's done by the C&P department even though it's not a compensation related exam) and despite the fact that I sent him back with detailed notes, a large portion of his registry info is now incorrect (and I now have to figure out how to get it redone) because he couldn't remember the info they asked for and the physician didn't read my notes (I guess he didn't believe me when I said he needed them).

We’ve had two weeks of complete hell getting to this day.  My husband seriously hates these exams (for all the reasons listed and because he always leaves feeling so agitated and edgy and it takes days to get settled down afterwards).  They’re sort of a form of torture in our household… granted I get why they’re necessary… but they cause an unbelievable amount of stress and fallout, both before and after. 

So, I just had to pause typing for a moment because the examiner came to get me so that I could go and get Shilo (my husband’s PTSD/TBI/mobility service dog) because she was getting in the way of the physical exam.  Now, let me explain that Shilo is extremely well trained and spends A LOT of time with us at the VA in various exams and appointments.  The only time she "gets in the way" is when she's working... when she's doing that part of her job that means she's "alerting" to a high level of stress and anxiety in my husband and is doing everything necessary to distract and "ground" him.  When I went in the room to get her (and asked if I sat in the room and never uttered a word, if I could sit there and help with Shilo so that my hubby didn't have to be without her, but was told "no"), my husband was so upset and so overwhelmed that he didn't even look up from his shoes to acknowledge that I was in the room.  He looked defeated. He looked lost. He looked like he was in pain... mentally and physically. Talk about a way to tear a wife's heart out... though I am not at all implying that was the intention of the doctor.

And here I sit... with a service dog who is trying to figure out why she was pulled away from her job at a time when she was needed... and trying to keep myself calm and convince myself not to cry. I so incredibly hate seeing him like that and worse still I hate seeing him like that when it's not necessary.

There is no national VA policy that says I am not allowed, as a full-time caregiver, to be in the exam room with my husband.  It's actually a decision made individually by each VA. There are some VA's that recognize and appreciate the significance of caregivers... the comfort we bring which results in a Veteran who is better able to focus and provide answers if possible... the insight we bring as the person most familiar and aware of the difficulties and challenges our Veteran's injuries cause on a daily basis... and even the cost-savings we offer since exams are then as accurate as possible, leaving it less likely for them to need to spend the time and cost redoing them (at a time when the VA claims process is incredibly backed up around the country and could use any and all means to increase efficiency).

I went yesterday (with my Caregiver Support Coordinator) to meet with the head Administrator over C&P's at our VA to find out what our actual policy is here. While I will say she was kind and helpful in brainstorming how to at least make sure that my husband doesn't have to go through his PTSD exam this way (we're going to use a new VA program that allows other physicians (physicians more familiar with and more familiar to our heroes) to complete exams for 70 conditions, including re-examinations of PTSD, but not initial PTSD exams), she also was unable to provide me with a copy of the written policy for our VA (she said she'd have to find it) and explained to me that if caregivers were allowed in exams (Note: Those caring for a veteran who has been legally declared incompetent through the courts can attend the exams, but they're the only exception.), it would give the examiner an unfair disadvantage to have a Veteran and caregiver present in the room so they would have to have more staff so the then it could be "even" (i.e., 2 people from the VA and 2 people on the "veterans" side). 

While I understand and appreciate that these exams are normally about money (while in our case this time it's because we've filed for Total and Permanent Status early for my husband, which won't actually change anything about the amount my husband is receiving each month, but still triggered a new round of all his previous exams) and there is a concern that some people are trying to "play" the system and get more compensation than they're entitled to, I disagree greatly with that stance. My argument is that having a caregiver present doesn't make any more risk of that then if the Veteran-only is present.  There is always a risk that someone is going to lie or embellish, though for the most part I find people UNDER-endorse their symptoms, especially those that are related to mental and neurological conditions, because they simply don't know how to put into words everything that they're experiencing.  However, by having caregivers present, there is a strong probability of coming away with a more accurate exam... one that is most fair to the Veteran and most completely reflects what the Veteran is facing as a result of his or her service to our country.  AND the C&P process would also be much less stressful and anxiety filled for those heroes.

Instead, it seems in some places, at some VA’s, we (those who spend our days and nights loving and caring for injured warriors) are viewed as adversaries… someone who is trying to “trick” the system, someone who is trying to give their hero an unfair advantage, someone who (despite the thousands of hours we’ve spent by the side of our heroes) has an opinion and insight that is not valuable enough to include in trying to get a full picture of a Veteran’s injuries.

So, here I sit.  Hoping that the hours I spent filling out the form the VA sent for these exams and adding additional notes for the doctor... combined with the 60 seconds I had to try to explain to her to please keep her questions brief, clear, and concise to minimize my husband's confusion and anxiety... is enough.

Fast forward... we are now 2 hours and 15 minutes in to the exam, and she (the doctor) comes out and calls my name so that I can take Shilo to my husband. She then says that her portion of the exam is over and that now he needs to go to X-ray, but that I am welcome to go with him to wait (thank GOD!). Shilo goes into full work mode, trying to get him calmed down and focused, while we wait. We are finally done with this exam 2 hours and 45 minutes after it started. My dear hero keeps commenting about the “blankety, blank, blank” scales (pain scales) that the doctor kept trying to get him to use to rate his pain levels.  He says he just didn’t understand and kept trying to explain that he didn’t know what to say.  He says the doctor finally found another sheet to try to make it easier for him to figure out but he’s still not sure if he did it right.  And (of course) that he kept having to ask her to repeat things and a few times he finally just told her “something”.  Lovely.  So hope it’s actually accurate.  Of course, now I’m worried that the exam report will be wrong… not because the doctor recorded anything wrong, but because the hubby provided incorrect responses because he was overwhelmed and needed to just get done.  It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.  (And it’s REALLLLLY hard to “fix” once the wrong answers are in black and white.)  Bleh.  Just bleh.

My husband looks like crap, I look like crap, and we have 2 hours to kill before the next one starts (an audiology C&P... at least that one is pretty straightforward... "Do you have ringing in your ears... Press this button if you hear a beep.")

With two hours to fill (and my hubby threatening to mutiny) I pull out a tried and true caregiver card.. "tell me anywhere I can take you to get something to eat and we will go." Of course, in our world that means fast food, drive thru, eat-in-the-car is the only option (got to love that PTSD), but at least it's a distraction. Of course he names somewhere that I don't know where it is and he "thinks" he knows (some of the most dangerous words in TBI world are "I think I know..." because then it means on the caregiver side you have two options. First, follow the "I think" directions with the very real probability of being on a wild goose chase.  Or, not following those directions and seeming like you think your Veteran doesn't know what they're saying. Bleh.) So for a while, I follow the directions and we're getting more and more lost (a lovely PTSD trigger) and my headache is turning into full on Caregiver "crazy mode"... head pounding, stomach churning, trying to use my best nurse-calming-soothe-the-beast voice.  Fortunately, I have fellow caregivers on speed dial... wonderful people who live here in PTSD/TBI world with me and whom I can call and make strange requests to (i.e., I need to find a Krystal's ASAP!!!)... friends who don't ask questions, can hear that "nurse" voice, and just help (a LIFESAVER in our world).

And now we're back at the VA waiting.  Lunch has been found and we are holed up our favorite quiet corner of this facility... trying to calmly wait out the time and let the storm of the events of the morning caused recede.

We finally head to the waiting area for the Audiology C&P.  When we get there they hand us another form to fill out with the dreaded SCALES at the top that my husband is already pissed about.  We’re sitting in a tiny waiting area with 3 or 4 other Veterans and caregivers.  As soon as I start going down the form to help fill it out, and I get to one of the scales (i.e., How loud is the ringing in your ears?”), he goes off.  “No more f---ing scales, I’m not doing any more scales, I don’t know how to answer that all I know is it’s f---ing loud in my head… it’s f---ing loud.” “OOOOOkay,” I think, as everyone in the waiting area stares and the receptionist behind the desk leans out to see what the commotion is, “we’re going to say ‘f---ing loud’ is an eight.”

Before I have a chance to complete the form, the audiology doctor comes to call the husband back.  I hurry over, try to explain that if he’s going to need dates for the information on the back he’ll need to ask me, and try to calmly smile at the man I’m married to… the one who has already had a much too long, much too stressful day.

While I’m waiting, there’s an older couple (in their eighties I would guess) sitting in the waiting room, too. She’s doing the same thing I was just doing… going down the same form and paraphrasing the questions so they’re simpler and more straightforward for her husband.  When she gets to some questions about “how well can you hear at parties,” and “does your hearing loss impact your ability to visit friends,” both times he says something to the effect of “How would I know, I don’t go to parties, why would I go to a party?”, “I never visit friends. What are they talking about?”.  I think to myself that I wonder if he’s a World War II or Korean War Veteran… and I wonder from those responses, a few others, and the “everything is alright” tone his wife is using (one I recognize well… after all I was just using it), if he, too, has PTSD.  There’s even a question about if his hearing loss contributes to or makes him feel more agitated… at that question his wife sort of does a semi-sarcastic giggle and says, “Well, I can answer that one.” (Wow, she sounds like me.)  I wonder if I’m looking at a picture of my husband and I in 50 something years… some of this sounds sooooo familiar.  And, I had also noticed that they were the one couple in the waiting room that didn’t really glare or give any “looks” after the hubby’s tirade.  “Yep,” I think, “maybe she’s a fellow PTSD wife.” (and I snap a quick picture… only of their feet for privacy purposes… to remember my potential “sister” PTSD wife.)

Just as I’m doing the debate about whether or not to strike up a conversation (and whether or not it would just add to her husband’s obvious irritation), my own Veteran is back.  Thank goodness at least this C&P was only 20 minutes. When I ask how the exam went, he says, “The pauses between the beeps were too long, so I kept pressing the button.”  To which I respond, “Honey, you were only supposed to press the button if you heard a beep… if you didn’t hear the beep, it’s because your hearing isn’t good enough to hear that sound.” Then, he replies again, “But the pauses were too long, I had to push the button.”  We go through the cycle one more time… and then I give up.  Pointless to argue, apparently somewhere in TBI land this stance makes sense to him, and I’m not going to do anything other than upset him by continuing to push it.  Lovely.  We’ll just have to wait and see if the testing now shows he has miraculously perfect hearing now (despite needing hearing aids on a daily basis) because he was concerned about filling the pauses.  Ugh.  Did I mention it’s a REALLY GOOD IDEA for a caregiver to be in the exam room????

I can’t help but remember we’ve still got the TBI exam to go in a few weeks… the exam I find it MOST ridiculous that caregivers can’t attend.  “Hello, hero with brain injury that causes memory loss, confusion, agitation, and general monumental processing difficulties… we don’t think you need someone here to help you… we’re just going to sit and ask you a bunch of questions that you don’t know how to answer, can’t remember how to answer, and in general just are too totally overwhelmed to answer. BUT, we’re not going to allow the person who lives with you every day and could help us get the right answers in the room to help.  Nope.  That doesn’t make sense.  Why would we do that?” Bleh.

As I’ve had the opportunity to meet with, speak in front of, and work with people at different levels of leadership around the country within the VA and in agencies that impact the VA, I’ve continually brought up this issue.  So far, I haven’t been able to find anyone to listen.  However, I am a “typical” stubborn Veteran’s wife and won’t be giving up any time soon.  It’s a portion of the C&P process that is broken, that wastes time, that weights the system (albeit I believe unintentionally) against Veteran’s with mental and neurological issues, and it does not mesh with the VA’s advancements toward more patient-centric and family-inclusive care (the type of care that is best for those who have laid down their bodies and minds for our country).

So, there’s our story… a day in the throws of the VA Compensation and Pension process.  What’s your experience?


((HUGS)) to all,
Brannan

Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and Life After Combat!

*NOTE: for more information about having a physician familiar with your Veteran complete a C&P exam (instead of going through the traditional C&P examiners), including a list of the 70 conditions this applies to, visit: http://benefits.va.gov/disabilityexams/*

Monday Momisms: The Pros and Cons of Loving a Combat Veteran

In 2001, my son wanted to join the Army.  He even tried to get me to sign the papers when he was seventeen, because he would not be able to sign on his own until his birthday at the end of June.  I thought about it, I even went to the recruiter’s office and had the pen in my hand.  Then for some reason, I looked at the recruiter and asked “What if there’s a war?”  The recruiter assured me there was no reason to believe that.  I could see his point.  I had been an Air Force wife and although Desert Storm had occurred, it really hadn’t affected us personally.  Still, I looked at my son and said “I’m sorry.  I just can’t.  If something happened to you because I signed this, I would never forgive myself.” 

This was in May.  On his 18^th birthday weeks later, he enlisted and was soon notified he would be going to basic October 1.  He had dreams of becoming either a history teacher or a police officer.  The morning of 9/11, however, changed everything, for the country, for our family, for him. 

My son did not hesitate.  He insisted being in the Army was more important than ever in order to defend his country, his younger siblings and me, the luckiest mom in the world to have these three young people in my life.  What he was about to experience, what we all were, was far different from being the spouse and children of an Air Force sergeant.  I was about to become the mom of a combat soldier. 

One of the absolute greatest “pros” of this is most definitely pride.  One of the biggest “cons” is fear.  Even after combat, the pros are still there.  However, unfortunately, so are the cons. 

Think about this: if a wonderful young man went to war who had never once had so much as a traffic ticket, was so proud of his hometown he brought comrades home some weekends with him to see it and meet the family he spoke of with love and pride, had half a dozen girls chasing him but was ethical enough to refuse to have anything to do with the ones his friends and cousins liked except as a friend, was protective and loving over his mom, little sister and younger brother and had dreams of helping others, that says something, right? 

Okay, now think about this: when someone returns from combat acting completely different, pacing constantly, having nightmares, mood swings, withdrawn and does things you never would have believed he would have, it tells you as loud as possible: hello, something isn’t right here.

To this day, the pros of loving my combat veteran son do outweigh the cons, even if they are fewer in number.  Take a balancing scale: you put the cons in and it immediately hits close to the ground.  You put one thing, the only thing sometimes that you have left on the pro side, love, on the other scale and it will bring that balance back and then some.

Every day I live a life of pros and cons, wondering what the day will bring.  The only constant in my life regarding my combat veteran son, is I still love him and I still have pride in the young man who never hesitated to defend his country.  I have lost pride in how he and his comrades are looked at and treated, ironically by some who never walked in his shoes yet knew him before combat.  When I balance that scale?  Definitely not a contest: I would take him over those who put him and other combat veterans down any day.

Monday Momisms: Mother's Day

Mother's Day is Sunday and I know that many of you are anticipating the time with your kids.  Some will get cards and drawings that will forever be treasured in scrapbooks or special drawers, perhaps even on walls and refrigerators.  Some may be without their children due to a painful loss.  Some may have a son or daughter in a war zone. 

Then there are those who are in a different situation like me.  While two are pursuing their dreams with college, I honestly don't know whether I will have any communication with my oldest.  It depends on what kind of day it is for him.  Things that seemed perfectly normal just a few years ago are now rare moments in time.  Family holidays, Super Bowl parties with their favorite appetizer, family movie and game nights: these are almost as rare as the Super Moon we experienced a couple of nights ago. 

PTSD, brain injuries, epilepsy and memory loss have taken those every day natural times and made them treasured memories, not only because I love my kids but because one of them will never be the same again and it is not his fault. 

That is what I cling to: my son's personality changes are NOT his fault.  They are his wounds from serving in combat, defending his country, protecting his loved ones.  Seriously, I deal with people telling me I cut him too much slack.  Really?  Well, maybe so.  But if had been someone with problems as a juvenile, someone who always had a bad temper or didn't care about being around his family or kept himself locked up in a room, I could see their point.  But he wasn't.  He was a young man so proud of his hometown that he brought his Army buddies home whenever he could.  They would tell me about how he would go on about being from the greatest place in the world.  When Hurricane Katrina hit and I thought of going with a church to help, my son called and told me not to because his unit was going to be helping and he didn't want to have to worry about me being there with some of the “not-so-good” stuff going on with people taking advantage of a disaster and hurting others. 

Mother's Day is nothing like what it used to be.  If I get a moment with him, I will definitely be thanking God.  If I don't, I will probably go through  old pictures, old letters, old memories and still be thankful to God. 

If you are about to experience your first or yet another Mother's Day in a world filled with PTSD, please remember that you are not alone.  There are other moms out there who understand what you are going through.  If you need help finding a support group, email me at monica_newton_writer@yahoo.com.  Or reach out to Family of a Vet here and someone will be happy to assist you in getting the right resources.  We care because we understand.  We understand because we have been through and live with a lot of the same things you do. 

Also, remember this: we as moms are a lot stronger than we realize.  I didn't know how strong I could be until I became my son's combat buddy here at home, a name his own commander gave to me.  We are your combat buddies, also.  Let's smile and enjoy our Mother's Day and not let the “enemy” take it over.  We can spend it with our children if we are able to or we can take comfort in the wonderful memories of how it once was.  Either way, we are the lucky ones for having those brave young men and women in our lives.  No one can take that away from us, not even PTSD. 

Happy Mother's Day.  :) 

Monica Newton

Veterans with PTSD - Heroes or Monsters? My thoughts...

In a time when hundreds of thousands of heroes and families are living with “invisible injuries,” injuries that cannot be seen, but have a very real impact on their daily lives, the Dr. Phil show had an opportunity on Thursday to make a difference.  It had the chance to educate the general public about the wide range of stories that live behind the mask of post-traumatic stress disorder.  It had the responsibility to help and not hurt.  But, it missed the mark… by miles.

I am the wife of a Combat Infantry Veteran who has PTSD among other injuries.  I am also an advocate that often spends 20 hours a day working with families like ours while caring for my own dear hero.  I know their stories, their challenges, their fears.  I also know that our heroes are not monsters.

Many families I know were approached by the Dr. Phil show to be part of Thursday’s show, and each one refused because of the tone of the producers.  Spouses who were trying to talk about how their family was coping, about tools and support they’d found to help, were interrupted with endless questions about whether their husband was hitting them, about how often he was taken over by rage,  about how horrible their lives were and how bad things “really” were.  Those orchestrating the show were not looking for hope… they were looking for sensationalism.

So now, I feel a responsibility… a responsibility to try to tell the rest of the story… to fight against the stigma of PTSD that many warriors and those who love them face every day.  It’s a stigma that was sadly strengthened on Thursday because of a drive for ratings.  And thanks to that sensationalistic tactic, the jobs of advocates and spouses nationwide just got harder.

Why are our jobs harder?  Because our veterans already sometimes feel like society views them as monsters.  They are injured, they are living in broken places, and the majority of news coverage about PTSD covers the worst-case scenarios - the situations where heroes go too long without care, where their symptoms and struggles are ignored, where their family does not have the help and support it needs, where those in their support network are not educated with real-world information about this injury.  While these stories grab headlines, they leave out the huge number of heroes and families who are coping, even when days are difficult, and building a new life with PTSD.  This sort of coverage (which includes Dr. Phil’s episode entitled “From Heroes to Monsters?”) only serves to widen the gap between those who have served our country and those who benefit from that service but have little understanding about what post-traumatic stress disorder “looks” like in the average household.

That kind of coverage makes Veterans nervous about seeking treatment and getting “labeled” with a PTSD diagnosis.  That kind of coverage makes potential employers less likely to hire current and prior servicemembers who have PTSD (the current unemployment rate for Veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan is at 12.1%).  That kind of coverage makes it much harder for families dealing with the injury to reach out and find support.  That kind of coverage makes the children in our Veteran community less likely to share their story (and thus find needed peer support) with friends.  Basically, that kind of coverage is exactly what we don’t need.

What do we need?  We need people to understand that while our families may be broken, we are not giving up.  We need society to comprehend that PTSD does not automatically mean that the heroes we love are violent.  We need healthcare providers to step in before our stories become headlines and help orchestrate proper, thorough care.  We need people who are willing to use their platforms to showcase the resolve, determination, and unbridled stubbornness within our community to pull ourselves up and persevere in the face of PTSD.  We need to spread hope and information about successfully coping… not spread panic and alarm.

I will not say life with post-traumatic stress disorder is easy.  Our family has been living with it for almost six years.  Many days are a struggle in our household… a battle between this invisible thing that attempts suck us dry and the life we’re building post-combat.  But, we continue… and so do hundreds of thousands of other heroes and families.

So, Dr. Phil, I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I was by Thursday’s episode.  And, I challenge you to offer a second look… a look at the heroes and loved ones who now spend their days educating themselves, pushing for treatment at all costs, finding ways to cope, and often helping others like them to do the same.  I challenge you to showcase the families who are, slowly but surely, pushing forward.  I challenge you to highlight the heroes and spouses who have faced domestic violence as a result of PTSD and have found their way back.  I challenge you to tell the non-sensational stories… the stories that may not garner huge ratings… but will actually help foster hope and understanding.  I challenge you to make a difference in the lives of those who have laid themselves down for you.

Sincerely,

Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and Life After Combat!

Monday Momism: Walk in Their Shoes Before You Judge

This weekend has been a roller coaster of emotions following the Dr Phil show Thursday. The intent was probably a good one, but the intro turned it into a controversy that actually took away from what the message was most likely (hopefully) suppose to be.

PTSD has been a stigma ever since it was first associated with the Vietnam war. Yet other people in other situations can understandably have PTSD and it seems to be deemed acceptable: rape, the death of a loved one. A young father has to identify his precious son's body after he was killed by his mom's boyfriend. When PTSD was diagnosed, it was no surprise to me. I could certainly understand.

Jurors are told they could get PTSD after serving on cases that involve the deaths of children. Again, understandable. Just hearing about a child missing or murdered brings tears to my eyes.

When police officers have to “use deadly force” in a situation, they are given time off to cope. Understandable. Yet a soldier in a war zone does not have that option. He/she must keep constant guard for the next IED, roadside bomb, decoy.

What's NOT understandable? Soldiers and veterans with PTSD. Oh, no, why are they complaining? Why are their families complaining? So they go to war in a foreign country after being on a boat in their own country (Pearl Harbor) or woke up to the news that their country had been attacked and nearly 3,000 killed (9/11).

Soldiers, some of whom were away from home for the first time except for basic and AIT, some teenagers themselves, hearing a woman cry out in an alley, rushing to her aid only to find out it is an ambush. Soldiers finding mass graves, some with notes about the dead person's “crimes” against Saddam. Really, what did a child do to him?

Soldiers calling home because a young girl going to school for the very first time or playing soccer reminds them of their younger sisters or daughters; young boys remind them of their younger brothers or sons. These same children being used as decoys and bombs, most probably without their own knowledge.

Serving in combat and having a brain injury or PTSD does NOT make our heroes monsters. It makes them victims of a war they fought in order to defend our country. Now, perhaps the show intended to try to do good with this particular show. I don't really see that, starting with the title itself. Still, the difference is I am giving it the benefit of a doubt. A small one, however...VERY small.

They say that those who can, do, and those who can't, teach. I don't agree with that because I know some remarkable teachers who have done awesome things in their lives. Yet, I am curious, why is it that those who have never been to battle think it's no big deal? I have seen people shrug off my worries and experiences along with my son's yet they turn around and “whine” themselves about things that have not changed the course of a person's journey in life. They “whine” about their own mood swings, running out of coffee, being called in to work, a television channel messing up.

I think the worst way to handle PTSD is to continue stigmatizing. Calling our heroes monsters does NOT help. I think the best thing we can do is remember this: do not judge if you haven't walked in someone's shoes. I have had bad things happen in my life but I am the first to say I have never experienced anything like what my son must have in combat.

Another good thing to remember is that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. This doctor with his own talk show has been called a monster before as well. Whether the allegations are true or not, they are certainly all over the internet for people to see, as well as in newspapers and tabloids.

The bottom line, our heroes are not monsters. They are courageous men and women, some paid the ultimate price, some paid a significant price. As the saying goes “All gave some, some gave all”. I'm the mom of someone who gave quite a bit. Yet even when I hear of people making the stigmatizing worse when they are in positions to make it better? I don't wish what we have gone through on them. I consider myself lucky and blessed not to be in their shoes at all. Hindsight is better than no sight at all in my opinion. But what do I know, right? I'm just a mom. I actually like that. It gives me the added advantage when I need to “go Mama” on someone.

Survivors' Guilt Happens to Families, Too

Survivors' guilt. We've all heard of it. A soldier comes home. His combat buddy doesn't. He doesn't feel like he deserves to seek help, apply for benefits. Why should he be compensated for that brain injury, PTSD, or lost limb? He got to come home.

That is the thinking of many of our returning troops and veterans. It is actually a pretty normal one for them. What some people don't know, don't realize, is survivors' guilt affects families as well. I'm here to tell you it's nothing to be ashamed of.

When our loved ones came home from combat, it didn't take long for most of us to realize something was different, something was missing. It was the light in their eyes, the laughter and spontaneity. Instead, there were hours of silence, a distance as if they were someplace else.
I was grateful my son came home. I'm still thankful every day that he survived Iraq. Yet I knew there was something wrong. The wonderful young man who loved his family, was popular with the girls, sparkled and lit up a room every time he entered, who didn't hesitate to go to war when called because he believed in his country, that young man came home with nightmares and epileptic seizures caused by a brain injury. He came home with mood swings and memory loss. He came home with PTSD.

But he DID come home. And it was because he did that I felt my own survivors' guilt. I was lucky. But there came a day when I had to put aside the fact that I was indeed blessed to have him come home and start the journey to get him the help he needed.

I remember going to a funeral with my husband. A family member was deploying. I didn't mention my son or his TBI and PTSD. I didn't want to “whine” when someone was going to be leaving. Yet after that person was safely home, I began to express some of my own experiences with my son's TBI and PTSD. I was then blasted in a private message for whining by another family member. My son was injured. Her husband was not. By the end of the day, I had removed her from my Facebook. We still do not speak to this day.

I was told by a spiritual counselor that perhaps she was dealing with her own survivors' guilt. Just as I would feel bad that I was dealing with a TBI and PTSD while others had lost loved ones entirely, she was facing the fact that her loved one was bragging about being protected in a bunker while some such as my son were on the front lines. Yet to this day, I wouldn't wish the front lines on her husband or anyone else.

Survivors' guilt affects our veterans and affects us as families. Neither is something to be ashamed of. Both are natural. Both are understandable. Reaching out to each other instead of blasting each other can help tremendously. Find a support group in your area. If you need help doing so, let us know. We'll help you find the resources you need.

Tragedy Through My Eyes

On September 20th 2008, my husband experienced the most horrific tragedy in his life.  Working overseas in Pakistan, he nearly lost his life in a suicide bombing.  Miraculously he survived the catastrophic bombing, but has suffered ongoing side effects since that horrendous day. 

He arrived in Pakistan on a 40 day job assignment, only to experience tragedy three days later. The first time I heard his voice over the phone, it was sheer anguish.  All he could utter was, "I'm okay."  But was he really?  Would he survive his injuries?  Was his heart slowly beating now but after we hung up the phone, would his life suddenly fade into eternity? I had no answer.  I was told that he was involved in an accident, had facial lacerations, a doctor would be doing stitches and that he would be okay. But his voice....all I could remember was his anguish as he lay in a corner of a chaotic Pakistani hospital trying desperately to hold on.

As time slowly ticked by, more and more of the story began to unfold.  Much of it continued to remain a mystery, such as his whereabouts.  I sat at home helpless, waiting and hoping for the next phone call to come.  I wanted to be with him but I had no idea where he was or how I would get there. 

The answer was clear....Terrorism.  A 1,700 pound bomb exploded throughout the luxurious Marriott Hotel killing at least 60 people and wounding more than 250.  As the bomber drove up to the heavily guarded hotel, he detonated more than a ton of explosives leaving a 30-foot deep crater.  It's a good
thing I didn't hear those details and the fact that my husband just arrived at the Marriott and was sitting in the parking lot, 35 yards away when it happened.  If I had seen the photos of that parking lot, that almost every vehicle was completely demolished, I would have lost all hope of him ever
surviving. 

Due to the sensitive nature of the work my husband was doing, I was not able to share details with anyone.  I lived in fear of saying what I shouldn't, but wanting and needing to be comforted as a wife who lived through her own personal tragedy. I didn't know what I could and couldn't say, yet I needed prayer from people in my church and from my close friends and family.  The gravity of the situation was horrible and yet I had to suffer a little more silently than I would have liked to.

Travel arrangements were finally being made so that I could join my husband at the hospital.  He would be flown to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany,  a place I was very familiar with after having lived in the area for 8 years. I was picked up by a special escort who led me to the place where I would finally get to see my husband. 

As I walked slowly down the corridor, heart pounding, not knowing exactly what my eyes would see, a man walked slowly down the hall in my direction. When our eyes met, an incredible feeling washed over both of us.  He had no idea I would be coming to Germany and he was overcome with emotion.  We embraced for a few moments taking in the reality of what has happened, and
then made our way back to his room.  I gazed over his fragile injured body that had received numerous wounds and injuries both internal and external. He had multiple wounds and his face was imbedded with glass and shrapnel. How he was physically even able to walk down the hall I don't know.  I wanted to hold him and kiss his lips, but was afraid to cause him even more pain.  Every part of his body appeared swollen, especially his face.  This was the beginning of a long road to recovery.

The days and weeks at home passed slowly.  Most often our days were spent driving from one appointment to the next, seeing a different specialist for each separate injury. The healing was slow but steady and appeared to be moving in the right direction. Some appointments were not planned but came suddenly when a piece of glass would seem to be working its way around the eye causing discomfort, and therefore had to be removed.

Before long, my husband was back at work doing the job he loves.  He didn't   reveal the extent of his numerous injuries to anyone for fear he would be kept from the work he longed to do.  He loved his country and was willing to fight for it and die for it if necessary. 

As life went back to normal, ours eventually did too.  But the long term effects of that type of injury is something we were not aware of.  We did not think that progress in the right direction could take a sudden turn. That is the day to day reality we are living in now. 

Succumbing to the inability to control the pain, the desire to want to live a normal life yet unable to.  Being at the mercy of a body that has moments of wanting to fight and moments of wanting to give up because the pain is unbearable.  Desiring to take that prescription medication just to ease the
pain, but hating the fact that a day can't be lived without it.  Frustrated and angry over not being able to do all that came so easy before.  Wanting to be strong for your family yet feeling weak and unable to complete a simple task.  Dealing with other symptoms such as fatigue, hearing loss, migraines, memory loss, trouble concentrating, emotional trauma, poor vision, dizziness, loss of balance, back and leg pain, sleep disturbances and nausea.  Yes, life goes on but for the one who suffered a traumatic injury day to day activities can be wearisome and agonizing.

I don't know if total healing will ever come.  I don't know if my husband can ever enjoy the sound of a thunderstorm again without his heart racing out of control.  I don't know if he will get through a day without intense physical pain.  I don't know if he will be involved in an accident someday
because he is so fatigued.  I don't know if the day will come when he doesn't have to refill his prescriptions because he no longer has a need for them.  I don't know if he'll ever sleep undisturbed through the night or wake up feeling refreshed.  I don't know if he'll be able to do all the
physical work to keep up our home like he once did.  I don't know if the memory loss will increase little by little over time.  I don't know if he will be in too much pain to hold his new grandchild or if he will be able to play ball or sports with him as he grows up.  I don't know if he will ever regain his health that he had prior to September 20th, 2008. 

The only thing I am certain of is that I will honor the vow I made to him on June 2nd 1990, to love, honor and obey in "sickness" and in health.  I am proud of the man he is and for the love he has for God, family and country. He is a true warrior.  That is the man I am proud to be married to.

Submitted by Marion Esposito