Regarding War

Looking Back on Five Years of Lessons Learned as a Soldier's Mom

2010-01-25T22:07:39Z

This month marks five years that I have blogged about the experience of being a soldier's mom. It has been five years since I stood at Fort Benning and tearfully (later hysterically) said farewell to my youngest son and his Army brothers ("my guys") as they left for Iraq. These five years have been a wild and horrific — and wonderful — ride. Today I share the most intense of the lessons I have learned.

1. Life really is frail. That's a lesson that has been pounded home time after time. The second day my son was deployed, a sniper took the life of our son's beloved First Sergeant; this was followed, in time, by the death of his squad leader, then one friend, then ten others, and then finally to the loss of more than half his squad — the men he ate with, worked with, smoked and joked with — in a single IED (improvised explosive device) attack. There is nothing as sobering to a parent as hearing the uncontrolled grief of a grown child upon the loss of his friends and brothers. There is nothing — and no one — that can soothe the pain in your heart, or his, as he tells you, when he escorts his friend's remains to his final rest, "We all promised we'd bring each other home, but we didn't mean like this." When your 20-year old says, "This is the hardest thing I have ever done," you silently pray that nothing in his lifetime will ever be harder.

2. There really are no words to comfort the mother or father or spouse or siblings of a soldier who has died. As hard as you try and as sincerely as you mean it, the English language does not yet encompass the words that can convey the sorrow and dismay of the tragedy. But you should still try.

3. Stop worrying about the little things. I know people hear that cliché all the time, but hearing a disembodied voice on the other end of a telephone tell you that your child has been seriously wounded by an IED has a way of reorganizing your priorities in a literal heartbeat. It was a lesson I thought I had learned 20 years earlier, when this same son was born three months prematurely and every breath he took was a fight for life. When he came home after months in the hospital and survived into toddlerhood, I told myself that I would remember to keep my priorities in order, and stop worrying about the little things ... but in the rush of everydayness, I forgot. One yellow dump truck full of 1,000+ pounds of C4 explosive was a fiery reminder.

4. Be ready for "the later." When we first learned our son had been wounded, we had little information except that he had what they described as a "serious spinal injury." In my begging, pleading and bartering with God that night, I told Him, "Please let our son live and we will deal with everything else later." Our son's continuing physical ailments, his PTSD and related consequences — anger, moodiness, depression, sleeplessness — are "the later." After such episodes, he will often apologize and lightheartedly remind us, "Remember when you told God you'd deal with everything else later? Well, this is 'the later.'" That is all it takes sometimes to remind me. While your soldier may not have been wounded in the traditional sense, for every person who has been deployed, there is typically a "later." Big or little, consequential or not, visible or not, there is usually a "later."

5. Be an advocate for your children who are in the military. We have been our children's advocates all their lives, but it took on new meaning once each of our three sons declared their intention to enlist in the military. We accompanied each to the recruiter's office, and together with each son, grilled the recruiters — in the case of the youngest, until hours after closing time. We reviewed their contracts with them and scrutinized each obligation and promise before they signed. We acted not as parents, but as interested and trusted advocates. "Been there, done that," was a welcome point of reference for each. While there was little we could do as advocates once they were in the services, after our youngest was wounded, we again assumed the role of advocate. With his permission, we spoke with our son's caregivers and medical liaison. When the possibility of a medical discharge arose, we visited the nearest Veterans Administration facility to determine what he needed to do before his discharge, and after he relocated nearby. We read, asked questions and we learned. Our son is now recovered to a degree that he handles his own care and advocacy, but we remain involved by keeping abreast of changes in veterans' benefits, programs and legislative efforts.

6. Teach what you have learned. We speak to all who are willing to listen about the needs of the military and of veterans, and about what we have learned in these five years and in three generations of serving. We inform others about the role of the military in modern society, and challenge those who would blame, castigate, denigrate or who push the unwarranted prosecution of those who serve us. We work to protect the warrior legacy in word and deed.

7. It's OK to cry. You will cry when your soldiers leave and when they return and when they leave again. You will cry tears of joy and of sadness and of worry. Your soldier will not understand but will eventually accept it. There is no way to stem the tears that flow each time the national anthem or taps is played once you have a child deployed to war. As hard as I try, the pride I have for the men and women who have been to war, and the love I feel for them, wells in my eyes and flows as liquid from my heart to my cheeks.

8. Tell them that you love them. Tell your husbands, brothers, sisters and your children, no matter how old they are, and no matter how annoyed they get. No one ever regretted saying "I love you" too often.

There is much I could have lived without these past five years: the deployment, the worry, the heartache, the loss. But yet, I would not trade the lessons I have learned, nor the opportunity to share my experience with others.

Vigilance: The Good Kind

2010-01-04T22:43:27Z

I have always tried to stay informed on legislation and thought that I had done a pretty good job of it in my adult lifetime. It wasn't until my son was wounded that I realized how little I — and the rest of the public — knew about "the system" and services for the military, the wounded, veterans and service retirees.

It was a shock to me, for instance, to learn that the 94 percent of military personnel who were medically discharged from the service with less than a 30 percent disability rating received a lump sum severance payment from their service branch, but were required to repay it in full from their Veterans Affairs (VA) disability benefits! Fortunately, lobbying by veterans' organizations and outrage from ordinary citizens led Congress to discontinue that practice in 2008. Unfortunately, the repeal was not retroactive, nor did it prevent the repayments for those medically discharged prior to January 28, 2008! This was unbelievable to me, because Congress said that it could not find the extra $2 million it would have taken stop the practice immediately for all veterans. Of course, this was after Congress approved such things as $4.8 million for wood utilization research! I only wish I was kidding...

It was outcries by legitimate veterans and military organizations that turned the attention of the country and Congress to the need for funding better diagnosis and treatment of traumatic brain injury (TBI), post-traumatic stress (PTS) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in returning Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom personnel. Likewise, the American Legion and Disabled American Veterans — among others — and their members immediately called attention to and succeeded in the repeal of a proposal that would have forced private insurance companies to pay for the treatment of military veterans who suffered service-connected disabilities and injuries.

It is important for all of us to stay current in knowing about legislation that affects our active and retired military, Guard and Reserve members. For example, legislation passed more than a decade ago tied the reimbursement rates for Tricare (health insurance for the military & retirees) to reimbursement rates for Medicare, and mandated a reduction in those rates to physicians. Each year since then, Congress has delayed but not repealed the fee-setting formula, which would decrease rates each year. On December 19, 2009, the implementation of a 21 percent cut in Medicare and Tricare payments to physicians was delayed until the end of February 2010, setting up a new crisis in two months. Congress has refused to eliminate these legislated cuts altogether, as the votes to forestall annual rate reductions is used as a pork-spending bargaining chip by legislators. The elimination of these mandated cuts was initially part of the recently-passed health care reform, but legislators removed the measure, because it would have pushed the cost of the health care legislation over the forbidden $1 trillion mark.

Whether or not Medicare and Tricare payments are cut is of critical importance, not only on an individual basis for current personnel and their families, but in a broader sense, for the military and its ability to attract and retain qualified individuals. Currently, our military is an all-volunteer affair, and history has shown that lower reimbursement rates for Tricare (and Medicare) coupled with the higher documentation requirements, drives medical practitioners away from accepting patients covered by the plans.

It is important to keep legislators honest when it comes to legislation and programs that affect military members and veterans. For instance, we must remain attentive to proposed mandates for services that are unfunded — legislation that requires some agency of Federal or state government to provide a service but fails to provide funding. So then, the onus is on Federal agencies or the states to "find" the money by cutting other programs or increasing fees. And the result is that well-meaning but underfunded and poorly designed programs end up failing.

We need to be wary of oft-used election-year ploys of adding requirements without increasing funds for the expansion of an existing program, or mandating an unrealistic goal and/or an unrealistic implementation timetable (such as increasing the number of psychiatrists/psychologists five-fold in a 12 month period). Politicians love to proclaim themselves as heroes for creating this type of legislation, and then point fingers and place blame when the goals of those pieces of legislation are not met.

We should also be cautious about legislation that purports to be in the interests of military members or veterans, but in its actuality and application, does not actually help. For example, the introduced but not-passed Veterans' Mental Health Treatment First Act would have prohibited the VA from determining a disability rating for PTSD or other mental health condition until a veteran had complied with a VA-mandated 12-month treatment program first, making life more difficult for veterans with PTSD.

It is important for all of us — citizens who truly support the troops and who honor our veterans — to become active and remain engaged in protecting the warrior legacy. As we head into a new year, I implore everyone in the military, veterans, their families and the general public to learn about proposed and pending legislation and to be energetic in communicating their opinions to their Senators and Representatives. This is important not just at the federal level, but at the state levels as well.

As state and federal legislators look to reduce spending or find funding for pet (read: pork) projects, military and veterans programs will be looked at as likely sources for cuts, because of their relative size to other budget commitments. Our watchfulness will be vitally important to the roughly 1.4 million personnel on active duty, the additional 900,000 members of the Reserve and National Guard and the 23.2 million military veterans in the United States.

You do not have to be a one-person band, either. There are many legitimate military and veterans' organizations that have legislative actions, educational newsletters, and others services. A majority of these organizations do not require visitors to be a member in order to access relevant information on their websites.

Visit:

American Legion
American Veterans (AMVETS)
Association of the United States Army
Disabled American Veterans
FRA (formerly Fleet Reserve Association)
Military Officers Association of America
Non-Commissioned Officers Association
Veterans of Foreign Wars

Many of these organizations also provide a means of sending communications directly to all your elected officials via the organization's website, and they usually provide suggested language whether in support or opposition to an item. There are also hundreds of other chartered and non-chartered veterans organizations that can be searched at the VA's Directory of Veterans Service Organizations.

You can also track veteran-related legislation via the Department of Veterans Affairs and via the official legislative portal THOMAS.gov (which allows a search by bill number or key word). You can track your Senator's votes via Senate.gov and your Representatives through House.gov. The websites for the U.S. Senate Committee on Veterans' Affairs and U.S. House Committee on Veterans' Affairs are also great resources.

It is in everyone's best interests to support those who serve, past, present and future.

The Bonds That Tie

2009-12-22T16:56:17Z

Throughout the course of our lifetimes, we make and break bonds with people. Some bonds are formed in friendship: schoolmates, neighbors, fellow workers. I have close friends from each of those groups. I maintain, however, that the bonds forged in military service are perhaps the strongest of all bonds. Stronger than steel. Stronger than adversity. Stronger than time.

We all know the story of veterans sittin' around and one says, "No kidding! There I was..." followed by a story of improbability or hilarity, typically punctuated with profanity, irreverent phrases and sordid images. It will end with much backslapping and hearty handshakes. The circle might contain members of a single unit or a single war, or it might contain an assortment of veterans from many of this nation's conflicts. But they are bonded and tied to each other by the commonality of their service. Some are bonded by mettle and the blood of battle. You need look no further than the Illiad or the St. Crispen's Day speech from Shakespeare's Henry V for evidence of the emotional connection these men share.

My husband's military service began almost a half century ago, and ended half that long ago, but the friends that could pick up the phone or walk in our door without missing a beat, the friends we welcomed most warmly, are those with whom he served.

There are other bonds in the military community — those between the families of our servicemen and women. Parents of soldiers form bonds with each other, as do the spouses and the children of soldiers. The relationships between some milspouses (military spouses) are as close as blood sisters. I cannot begin to count the number of spontaneous hugs I have received from and given to other Blue Star moms. We — spouses and parents — form these bonds based on our shared experiences and our shared worry; we find solace and consolation among our "brothers and sisters." We know that they know.

Some of my closest friends today are people I didn't know before my son deployed. We met via military blogs (including my own) and private online Internet forums established by parents of soldiers — one by a Third Infantry Division parent, another established by military moms for military moms. These were places to share information, to share worry, to celebrate good news and to commiserate when the news was bad. These were places that let us share this bond, hammered and shaped by our worry for our sons and daughters. Another soldier's mother, whom I had never met, was the first to call me after my son was wounded; the blogger wife of an Air Force blogger, who was stationed in Germany, emailed to offer their assistance when I blogged that we would be traveling to Landstuhl to see our wounded son there. Because I have publicly written about my experience with deployment, and my son's personal struggles PTSD, I receive emails and comments from mothers, wives and other family members of those who are deployed, about to be deployed and those who have returned. Some seek advice while others simply wish to say "I have been there, too!!" These relationships are equal parts ethereal and practical; as much emotional as they are physical. It involves both the spiritual and the material worlds — prayers and novena candles as well as care packages and cookie recipes. It is an inclusive sisterhood for which we did not volunteer, but in which we are now forever members.

We don't intentionally keep others out of the circle, but until you have been where we are, you cannot be in the circle. It's not that we believe no one else could possibly understand what we endure, but we know that other mothers and spouses of deployed soldiers fully understand. It's akin to knowing how to drive a stick transmission. You either do or you don't. I know many mothers and wives (and veterans themselves) will smile reading that sentiment.

Military service generally — and deployment more specifically — is the bond that ties us to one another. We are now related and connected — like hands held in a circle or people gathered in a group hug. It is that way now as it has been for all the centuries that men have gone to fight and wives and mothers have sent their men to war.

The Tradition of the Christmas Tree

2009-12-15T15:48:18Z

In December 1966, a helicopter sat on the deck of an aircraft carrier off the coast of Vietnam with its crew of five on "stand by." These stand-by assignments were really "sit stills" — you had to be in the chopper and ready to fly a CAP (combat air patrol) at a moment's notice. Many times it was eight hours of sitting and waiting, and not flying.

The pilot of the helicopter was a 24-year old lieutenant fresh from the farm fields of Illinois via flight school in Pensacola. His crewmates, some younger, but none much older, sat and stared out at the pitch black trying to make out the shape of the Navy fueler that had pulled alongside earlier in the day, but which now melted into the blackness of the ocean at night. Occasionally, one of the crew would flip on a red-lensed flashlight to check the time. There was little radio traffic through the headsets and all conversations were conducted at a whisper given the EMCOM (emergency communications only) status — the wind rushing by the open side panel of the chopper the most persistent sound.

About midnight, a lone sailor approached and slid an armful of packages and letters across the floor. "Mail call," he whispered, turned and departed. Under the red glow of a flashlight, the parcels were divvied up to their recipients; the largest of the parcels was passed along to the pilot.

The large box revealed a tin of homemade fudge from the local church, cookies from his mother's closest friend, and a smaller gift-wrapped box. Inside the Marshall Field & Co. box from his parents was a small table-top sized Christmas tree about 15 inches high: the stiff artificial fir was adorned with small, painted wooden ornaments, shiny gold ornaments and green and red ribbon bows. The pilot set the tree on the floor next to his seat. They all admired the quaint little tree under the glow of the red light until a slight knock elicited a few notes from an undetected music box within. With a twist of the base, the tree began to play "Oh, Christmas Tree." As they sat in the dark, 10 months into a 14-month tour, some away from home at Christmas for the first time, the crew sat in the dark and listened to The Tree's tinkling serenade for the next few hours, eating fudge and cookies and trying hard not to let each other hear their sniffles.

That Christmas tree traveled with my Dear Husband for the more than two decades of his Navy service, and was the only Christmas decoration in many an aircraft carrier's bunkroom over the years. To this day, more than 40 years later, it occupies a place of honor in our home each Christmas. It is referred to by all in the household as "The Christmas Tree." The Tree.

Every Christmas Eve, the story of how The Tree came to be is told — our now-grown children still insist that their Dad tell the story, even when he or I protest that "Everyone knows the story!" It has become a tradition in our home and one in which our children willingly and eagerly participate.

The last Christmas Eve that his sweet father celebrated was the first time my husband's parents heard the story of how The Tree had been received and they, in kind, told us how they had traveled to the big city of Chicago from their small farm community to purchase "something nice" for their oldest son who was fighting in a war far from home. They had never imagined the impact such a small gesture would have on generations to come.

When our oldest son joined the Navy in 1998, his first duty station was overseas. He was not deployed to a combat zone, but he was far from home and family at Christmas. We decided that because it had meant so much to my husband, the tradition of receiving a musical tree for the first Christmas overseas in service to our country should be continued. We spent many an afternoon all through that October and November scouring malls and shops for just the right tree.

There were some requirements for The Tree: It must not be too breakable, since we hoped it would travel with him for many years. It could not be too big (or it would be tough to ship and move around with all his other possessions) nor too small (or what would be the point?). It could not have decorations that could be easily broken or misplaced, or that required some high degree of care. It must play music. It was, "We'll know it when we see it."

We did find Jason's Tree. In my best calligraphy, we marked the bottom in jeweler's gold with his name and the year, just as I had done to the bottom of my husband's tree.

On Christmas Eve 2004, during leave just weeks before our youngest son's anticipated 15-month deployment to Iraq, the story of The Tree was told again, and as the story ended, our soldier exclaimed, "You know that means I get my tree next year!" I could only nod in tearful silence and left his Dad to respond, "You bet!"

So there we were in July 2005, 100 degrees outside — most of the nation gripped in record heat — searching the web, catalogs and year-round Christmas stores for just the right tree to send to Noah. We hadn't yet located that special tree when Noah was wounded in Ramadi, Iraq and the search for the tree was put on hold.

As summer turned to fall and Noah's recovery progressed, we exhaled and decided once again to focus on the approach of Christmas. We began to think about The Tree again. We knew that Noah had well-earned his deployment tree even if he would be Stateside for Christmas, so we renewed the search for his Tree.

We found it, and as I had done twice before, I wrote the name and deployment dates in jeweler's gold on the bottom in my best calligraphy and sent it to him. Since he has been medically discharged, and until he has a home of his own, Noah's Tree has joined The Tree in a place of honor in our home.

This year, we will tell the story of The Tree — and of Noah's Tree — to a new generation of family, and although at 2 years old, young master Tom is too young to grasp the importance of this tradition, it must be told... for we must never forget that some must go to fight the dragon... and they must be honored and remembered.

PTSD: A Different Perspective, Part II

2009-12-07T14:55:20Z

My blog, Some Soldier's Mom, followed my son through his deployment, his wounding, his evacuation and our journey to Germany, his return home, the memorial services and funerals attended for many of his friends, his efforts to handle his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) himself and his subsequent acceptance of formal care for his invisible wounds. We — his parents, family and friends — were drawn into this nightmare by our love for our soldier; we have spent countless hours researching, learning, supporting and advocating.

Through all of this, we have tracked his progress — both the steps forward and the steps back. I have ranted, raved, blogged and asked the obvious questions about diagnosis, treatment and the stigma of PTSD. I have blogged many times about the changes in our son.

For those that truly have PTSD — that is, when the symptoms of post-traumatic stress (PTS) have become chronic — it is the bogeyman behind every door, hiding in every shadow; it is the invisible monster that has stolen the smiles and maybe even a part of these soldiers' souls. These young men and women fight every day trying to get that stolen piece back and to keep from losing more. It can be incredibly tough for those veterans and hard for their families.

Unfortunately, during our journey of support for our son, we learned that the military services had not focused on preparing parents (or other non-spousal next of kin) for the arrival home of the combat veteran who suffers from PTS or PTSD. Unlike spouses, who usually live near the point of deployment and who receive information and counseling during deployment and before their spouse's redeployment (return stateside), parents or others to whom unmarried soldiers/veterans return do not have access to the information or facilities that they need in order to assist in the reintegration of their family member.

Almost 50 percent of soldiers and Marines who bear the brunt of combat action are unmarried. Some, once-married, will find themselves divorced after they return. Many of the troops who are and have been deployed are citizen soldiers — National Guard and Reserve — and have families that live far from military installations and services. These soldiers, Marines, sailors and airmen are discharged back to the places and people they came from, and for the most part, the people they are returning to are ill-equipped to identify — let alone deal with — the trauma their family member has experienced. Embarrassingly, there has been little effort until recently to reach out to those who live with, care for or who care about these soldiers and combat veterans and who are not married to them. In an exchange with the Secretary of the Army last year, I said I knew that there was a legal distinction between communications with spouses and communications with parents of adult children, but pointed out that perhaps a starting point for such communications could be with the "next-of-kin" every soldier has to designate for official notifications even if soldiers preferred not to have parents involved.

As parents, we feel helpless when we cannot send away our child's nightmares, cannot ease the fitful sleep, cannot avoid nor abate the anger that is not really about us, cannot fix nor mend the inattention, the forgetfulness, nor the moodiness. We feel powerless when our soldier or Marine is having one of "those" days, or he/she is in one of "those" moods. I only half-joke that I gave birth to one child named Noah, but live with two Noahs and am never sure which one will walk into a room! Or, as my girlfriend S.L. used to say, "If it wasn't the same name and face, I'd swear this wasn't my son." When there are problems, we family members typically have little familiarity with our family member's installation or chain of command, and few of us have any idea where to turn for information on what services/benefits are available and how to get them for our soldier/veteran or ourselves.

In the past two years, the services have made some progress in disseminating information to non-spousal family in their efforts to assist military members and veterans, and making sure that they receive all the help and benefits they have earned. Many of the services now have links on their websites for resources for families. Although the information is still almost exclusively targeted to spouses, the information and links to resources are available and can be useful to all family members.

There are many useful tools, as well as private and government sites available for those or those that suspect they or someone they love is suffering with post-traumatic stress (note that some of these tools are rather technical in nature).

Good places for active duty, Reserve or Guard to start are www.militaryonesource.com or www.militaryhomefront.dod.mil.

Veterans should start at www.va.gov.

Some other sites with information I have found useful are:

Iraq War Clinician Guide, 2Ed. (technical)

Deployment Health Clinical Center/PTSD

Dept. of Veterans Affairs: National Center for PTSD

PTSD Combat: Winning the War Within (Info Blog)

Bottom line: If you have PTS or PTSD — or you believe your family member is suffering from PTS or PTSD and it is not getting better: GET HELP. Treatment can work. Your life can be better.

PTSD: A Different Perspective, Part I

2009-12-01T15:53:06Z

PTSD looks to be the diagnosis of the decade. Seems everyone has it, or wants to claim it. In the 80s the diagnosis was ADHD... In the 90s, was it narcissism? And now, PTSD: apparently you can get it soon after watching a movie, or years after some bad act. It's all the rage in the news, and a convenient excuse for bad behavior. Even if someone has never personally experienced the trauma, it seems like they only have to hear about someone else's trauma, and POOF — they have PTSD! Worse still are those who point to combat stress as proof that service members are the victims of some nefarious plot. If you believe the media and some politicians, every bad act by someone who happens to be a veteran is the result of some neglect or refusal to identify and treat this condition.

The unfortunate truth is that there are those who will not seek help and, with rare exception, no one can force them to seek or receive it. Some veterans will become criminals, some will become unemployed and some will become homeless. For very few, it will be because of their military experiences; for others it will be in spite of their experiences. But there are also policemen, firemen, teachers, bankers, lawyers and doctors who also become criminals, unemployed or homeless. One condition may have absolutely nothing to do with the other.

Most veterans and active duty personnel that my family and I know are completely sympathetic to the plight of these veterans, but resent the heavily promoted idea that military service (combat or otherwise) is the reason for every malady a person may endure. Of course there are exceptions — some people may be in desperate straits because of their military experiences — but it is not as widespread nor as pervasive as those who use veterans to promote a political or social agenda would have us believe. We base this on our highly personalized experiences.

My husband is a two-tour Vietnam veteran, and although he does not suffer from PTSD, we both have friends who not only fought in Vietnam and the Gulf War, but fought the invisible war afterwards. So even before my son Noah suffered from its symptoms, PTSD was no stranger to us... As Noah's symptoms emerged and worsened, we strongly encouraged him to seek help. We have been there every step of the way of our son's struggle with PTSD.

Through this road with our son, we have learned a few things:
1. 80-85 percent of all returning Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF)/Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) military do not and will not have any symptoms of post-traumatic stress (PTS).
2. Of the 15-20 percent of OIF/OEF survivors that do exhibit symptoms of PTS, less than half will develop symptoms that are severe enough to require extensive treatment — most symptoms actually resolve with time or brief treatment and/or counseling.
3. No one with chronic symptoms gets better without first admitting they need help.
4. If they ask for help, they will receive it.

I have preached that we should not rush to judgment, and not paint everyone with symptoms of combat-PTS as being "broken": PTS is a normal response to war and it usually doesn't rise to the level of disorder. But if it messes with you, your relationships and your daily life, it is okay to seek treatment. You are not a victim of anything but your biology. PTS is biologically real and can be treated.

The most significant part of the often-[mis]quoted 2008 Rand Study is not that 1 of 5 of the 1,984 service members interviewed reported symptoms of PTSD or major depression, but that almost half of those who had symptoms had not sought treatment. From our personal experiences, I can tell you that OIF/OEF veterans who accept that they need help dealing with their PTSD and seek care at the Veterans Hospitals and Veterans Centers are getting that care.

We also know from our experience that it can be difficult to get the necessary care in the active service — but it can be done. The wait can be long for counseling appointments because there is a shortage of military and private clinicians. There can also be dissuasive tactics at sick call. But ultimately, insisting on help will get you help.

In our son Noah's case, it took a lot of guts and him repeatedly asking for help. He overcame the extreme resistance of his non-commissioned officers (NCOs), the unit/group resistance and his own personal reluctance to say, "I'm f!@#$ percent up and I need help." He knew that he could no longer "suck it up," as his NCO commanded. This was the same NCO who, even after Noah sought treatment, interfered with his efforts at every turn. As the guys in his company told me, "[the NCO] talks big and walks very small."

We know a number of OIF vets — some are still active duty. As the statistics bear out, almost all have returned from their combat experiences with no symptoms of post combat stress. We know a few who exhibit symptoms, but who believe that they do not need help, that whatever they are experiencing will get better with time. Again, statistics bear out that this will be true for a majority of that group: they will adjust and assimilate. They may never be the "old" person again, but that does not mean the "new" person will not be a functioning and contributing member of society. And the very few in the group whose symptoms worsen and interfere with a productive life — those are the ones who need to ask for help.

Bottom line: IF you have (or someone you love has) PTS or PTSD and it's not getting better, get help. Treatment can work. You can get better.

Bridge Builders

2009-11-17T16:16:11Z

When my son visited the VA hospital for his first physical evaluation, the only other person in the tiny waiting area besides him and me was a wizened man, whose skin was deeply creased like the soft leather of an old flight jacket. He looked to be in his 70s and "Korean War Vet" was embroidered on the hat in the chair next to him. Four chairs separated the older and younger veteran.

After a while, the old man turned in his seat and asked in a deep, rich voice, "You a vet?"

"Yes, sir," my son replied.

"Iraq?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you wounded?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?"

My son remained silent for a moment before turning back, "Well, I was blown up a dozen or more times...but that thousand pounds of C-4 in a yellow dump truck got me."

The old man gave a tiny nod of his head and then thrust his hand at my son. "Fair enough," he said.

They shook hands... the handshake of reluctant members of a brotherhood no one wants to join. A handshake and a nod signaling the bridge between generations was — painfully — open.

***

Our son has been home from war four years and medically discharged for two. His reintegration has not been without its roadblocks and setbacks but, for the most part, like a significant majority of veterans, his life has moved forward — not always in ways he imagined, but forward nonetheless.

No surprise in the lessons we have learned: the people who have helped him the most in his continuing journey have been his family, friends and the veterans' community — especially "The Bridge Builders," described by poet Will Allen Dromgoole as those who cross the chasm and stay to build a bridge for those that come behind.

From that Korean War vet at the VA, to his trusted PTSD counselor at the Veterans Center, and the large veteran population in our community, our son has been warmly received. As one of the first Operation Iraqi Freedom veterans in our area, the reception into and recognition by a much older veteran population has been heartening and helpful — especially the profound level of commitment to our newest veterans among Vietnam-era veterans who tell me that they never want to have any veterans be discarded the way that they were ever again .

The unwavering support from his large, extended family has been a lifeline for our son. Their support included so many packages when he was in Iraq that he never lacked a jovial entourage when he retrieved his mail. This support continued upon his return with open ears, open minds and open arms. Using all available technology, our son stays connected with old friends from high school, new friends from college, other single parents and a large group of Army friends — those still serving and those that have transitioned.

He has found mostly friendly support from fellow firefighters (surprisingly, few here are veterans), although his "get 'er done" discipline towards his firehouse chores — as the new guy, he did all the kitchen, bath & general cleaning — has ruffled a few who would rather sleep in and then start their day with an extended bull session. As our son told his fire captain after someone complained that he seemed a bit unsocial, "I'm not opposed to a 'smoke & joke,' sir, but I'm the part-time new guy with chores to do. But I'll work on the bull part."

Those that have been the most unhelpful have been the uninformed (sometimes mean-spirited) who try unsuccessfully to ascribe the myths and politics of the wars to the soldiers. When he began college, he learned not to mention his combat experience to the naive and mostly misinformed younger students who used the opportunity to only openly deride him and his service and disparage the Iraq mission which he still strongly supports. He has found that it is impossible to have a meaningful discussion with some people about the difference between political and media-fed perceptions and the reality of soldiering. He has learned that self-preservation sometimes requires simply walking away after delivering his newly-mastered, "Sure.Whatever.you.say.You.really.should.read.more" scowl.

People often ask what they can do to help veterans. In practical terms, contact the closest Veterans Center and offer donations of pre‑paid gas cards, grocery cards, or donate to their Christmas fund. Whenever you can, give a veteran a job. And reach out and shake a veteran's hand and say the most meaningful phrase ever uttered, "Thank you for your service. We really appreciate all you have done."

Being Some Soldier's Mom

2009-11-09T14:06:33Z

I am a soldier's mom. As a non-commissioned officer once brusquely reminded me, I was "just some soldier's mom." I may never have been to war but I have sent a child to war. I have never had a child killed in action, but I have had a child wounded in battle and am witness to that living child's invisible wounds of war.

In late 2004 when my son was getting ready to deploy to Iraq, I searched the web for information on what he might experience, what parents should expect and for any practical information I could use. I discovered a number of military blogs (milblogs) by soldiers and well-connected veterans, but nothing from a parent's point of view nor any information for parents on any Army or Department of Defense sites. To fill this gap, I began the blog "Some Soldier's Mom" to share what I viewed as a unique and important experience: having a child at war.

While I originally started the blog to write about "my" experience, I quickly discovered that all mothers of the deployed are connected by our response to this extraordinary situation of a child in battle. First, we mothers experience emotions and have a perspective different from our soldiers (who can only try to understand why we worry or cry so much) and a military wife (who knowingly assumes the role and has a daily relationship with her soldier.) Military parents often say that we did not volunteer, but we also serve. As my Army wife AND Army mom friend Karen says, "It's a whole different part of your heart when it's your child."

I have never had such enthusiastic agreement from other military moms and dads as when I said that sending a son or daughter to war is one of the most counter-intuitive experiences a parent can have: you spend 18 or more years protecting them and then you are called upon to be brave and plucky as you see them off to a place where mortal danger is an understatement.

We learn to use all the technology available to stay in touch and to try and keep track of them. We program our computers to make special noises when our soldiers are online. We have special rings on our phones so we know when they call. We forward phones to wherever we are; we give up our place in store lines to run outside for better reception when they call. We talk about our soldiers. We live for the opportunity to talk with them. Then we talk to others about what we talked about with our soldiers. And we wait for another chance to talk to them again.

We think about our soldiers and their buddies day in and day out. When we wake HERE, we calculate the time THERE and wonder what they're doing. It's a task we'll do many times every day. When we sit for dinner, we wonder what they had to eat today -- wonder if they even had a hot meal today. In the shower we wonder if they had hot water today or if it was just a bottle of water or two over their heads. They pop into our heads while we're doing dishes, walking to our cars, doing laundry.

We cry. We cry when they haven't called or written and we cry when they do. We cry because we are so frightened for them and because we miss them. We cry when they leave and when they return and then leave again. We find that the smallest of things make us teary-eyed... walking in their room... seeing a picture... remembering them and us with them. Yes, we cry. There's nothing like a good cry to set your head straight. Our soldiers get used to it — they don't understand — but they know it just is. We moms say tears are liquid love - straight from our hearts to our eyes.

Over the next few weeks of blog posts I hope to bring a different perspective to the discussion and an inside look at the realities of service, of PTSD and I hope to dispel some misconceptions about those who serve and their families. I look forward to hearing the readers' stories and their comments.