It has been 14 months and a day since I returned home from OEF VI. It has been 11 months since I was diagnosed with PTSD and TBI and 8 months since I was discharged form the Army because of my disorder.
”Where to begin? Should I start at the end?” Everyday of my life I live with an echo or remnant of the war. It is not always the moments of despair or sadness that come to the forefront of my mind, but my dear reader those events and images ….they are very present. Don’t be disheartened, not everything from the war is all gloom and doom. Sometimes I remember those funny memories that make me smile, and I never forget the images of brotherhood that call forth nostalgia.
I like all PTSD veterans have those ‘triggers’ I avoid like my counseling has taught... no war movies.., avoid the news, but sometimes you just can't help yourself. My job as a paramedic in Richmond doesn’t help, but you have to understand it is the way I pay the bills. I am a great paramedic! I was a strong paramedic before the war and to give due credit I think my war experience has made me an even better medic now. It comes at a price though. Just recently a motorcycle accident victim I treated with extensive face and chest trauma... caused a flash back to the Afghan Policeman I surgically cric’d, by cutting an airway in his throat to keep him breathing in the middle of a Taliban ambush with bullets and RPGs flying all over. Naturally my breathing increased and I was sweating all over. My cold clammy hands and rapid heart rate was caused by the sympathetic nervous system response. “Fight or flight”, they call it. It is the “body’s response to danger”.
But hey! Wait! I am in a safe place in an ambulance on my way to the Medical College of Virginia with a trauma alert. This patient is depending on me to save his life. Why do I smell that sickly spice smell that always comes to mind with Afghanistan. Why did I almost choke when the truck next to us on the highway backfires is it an RPG? The shame and vulnerability I feel whenever these moments come. My friends always try to be so sympathetic... they call me a hero … which makes me feel more uncomfortable. I just don’t carry the mantle well.
Why can't I handle it? Why does this happen? My father and grandfather, both special operations veterans, seem handle to their respective war experiences so well? Or do they? Then I laugh and remember my father’s anti-social behavior... my grandfather's heavy drinking, “not good coping skills” my counselor would say. The Prozac and Propranolol daily regimine daily regimen help keep me functioning. I can work...I can love….. My greatest success is my relationship with my new fiancée, but what about our future …. What about raising my unborn child she carries? How is my PTSD going to affect everything? One day at a time… maybe ‘time heals all wounds’ even the ones the public will never see. With hope, a strong heart, divine grace and some Irish luck I will make it through to 14 months and 2 days. (written April 2007)
Post-script... my paramedic career ended (December 2007) because my PTSD and TBI symptoms overwehlmed me.