Hello All,
I have been neglectful and forgot to forward this blog to my new domain!
I grew up and started my own site called warriorswifeadventure.com
So please check it out and share it.
Todd and Tara in hospital
My hero
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Destructive Competition
Recently I had witnessed another wife of a wounded soldier question the other about her husband's disability percentage and health issues. She then stated how lucky the wife is for having a husband "that disabled."
Why would someone say such a horrible thing? It isn't like someone wins the jackpot by being a TBI patient or a double above-the-knee amputee.
Each of our soldiers suffer. Whether it is the invisible wounds of TBI and PTSD, to someone with a limb salvage, none of our wounded have it easy and furthermore, neither do any of us wives who support them.
I will not stand to listen to anyone debase another wife about this. We need to stand together and be supportive of this not so easy life.
Why would someone say such a horrible thing? It isn't like someone wins the jackpot by being a TBI patient or a double above-the-knee amputee.
Each of our soldiers suffer. Whether it is the invisible wounds of TBI and PTSD, to someone with a limb salvage, none of our wounded have it easy and furthermore, neither do any of us wives who support them.
I will not stand to listen to anyone debase another wife about this. We need to stand together and be supportive of this not so easy life.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Warrior Beach Retreat Part Deux
There were so many wonderful things that happened on this
retreat, it deserved a second go around. One thing that was brought
up to me by one of my new friends made on the trip is exactly that. We have
been blessed with new friends. Not just one friend, but many. The amount of
kind, dear people we met who know exactly what we are coping with and sure, all
of us are dealing with different physical issues and emotional issues on top of
the PTSD, Traumatic Brain Injuries and whatever else as caregivers and wounded
soldiers, but during that week, those things were not visible to me. I know I touched on this before with the
first journal of this trip, but this is HUGE.
We were with other people all the same. We were amongst a
brotherhood of veterans who have experienced horrors of war, the profound loss
of fellow soldiers, and or the inability to help someone who was dying. It was a joy not having to explain why your
husband’s hands are shaking like an earthquake due to anxiety in a large crowd.
When Todd’s PTSD-triggered anxiety reached a high point, fellow attendees
brought us water and napkins to help him feel more comfortable. No one gave him
a look.
Even though Todd was embarrassed after due to his anxiety attack, he
had no reason to be.
What a nice feeling to be among the similar. I used to call
Brooke Army Medical Center’s Warrior Transition Unit (aka Broke Dick Battalion)
or (the WTFU), the Island of Misfit Toys. It wasn’t unusual to see someone with
a variety of limbs missing, wound vacuums attached, and extensive burn scars.
It was completely normal to see guys whizzing by on their scooters and
segways. There was solidarity there
among the soldiers. No one stood out. The WTU would adapt the uniforms to fit
the new body modifications caused by IED blasts. When the soldiers are healed as much as can
be accomplished there and return to their respective homes, they are no longer
among similar people.
Insecurities form when there is no one else to blend in
with. People gawk when there is something different in the way someone walks,
or a young man having to use a wheel chair. People can be rude and ask really
stupid questions about the appearance. Thanks for being tactless. You think our
men and women like to look different from the rest of the people? Sheesh. When
I see people stare at my husband and the way he limps severely, I hold my head
up and look them in the eyes. I tell my husband to be proud. He served his
country bravely and volunteered in a time of war. There is nothing to be
ashamed of. Nothing at all!
The amount of fun that my husband experienced and the
relaxation and feeling of support helped him make some big steps and work on
his own recovery going forward. I know it had helped him seeing how some of the
guys and hearing their stories of recovery and how they had improved. They gave
him inspiration and the extra oomph he needed to try some new therapies. This
trip was AWESOME for us in so many ways.
He now attends Hippo therapy at ROCK Rides in Georgetown, Texas. It is a
program that focuses on physical and emotional therapies. It helps calm anxiety
and the actual riding of a horse is proven therapeutic for people with balance
issues, depression, gait issues, and other physical problems.
I see a huge calming effect on Todd when he is finished with
a session.
On the day of the therapy, he is ready without me having to remind him. Sometimes he would lose track of days
and time and would cause us to run late. Not for this. He is all ready to go
with bells on.
He also is doing aquatic therapy at the VA pool. This is
another source of physical work to help him with stress and fight the vestiges
of depression that accompany the recovery of our veterans. This morning on the
way to Temple, he was awake. Wide awake and perky he was, talking about one of
his passions, America and the upcoming presidential election. On a post note,
he was awake for the ride home as well, which was fabulous. This is a big
change. He even goes to the Speech
Therapist to help work with him on attention control and retention as these are
big issues that impact his short term memory. They are very common in people
suffering from PTSD as well as head injuries.
I am just very excited to see him trying and working on his
recovery – very actively.
These are continued blessings in my life. So not only was the Warrior Beach Retreat relaxing, life affirming, but it was also the catalyst that propelled Todd forward to make active decisions in his recovery.
 |
| Todd and I on the Betsy Ann Riverboat |
I could not be happier. Please check out WarriorBeachRetreat.org and get yourself and your soldier on a trip of a lifetime.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Welcome Home Todd!
When my husband joined the National Guard back in '04 it was right after the horrors of 9/11. He was 34 and went through Basic Training and then AIT. He was home for about a month when he received the call he was being sent to Iraq.
We knew he would be sent right over. He picked a MOS (Combat Engineer) that guaranteed that, plus it was what he wanted to do. So there he went, off to Camp Caldwell. There he spent time at Anaconda, Stryker, and more that I don't know about. He was a gunner and operated the .50 Cal. When I would express concern that he was vulnerable on the top of the vehicles with the giant gun, he said,"Love, don't worry. No one fucks with the .50 Cal." He explained that people would scramble from the soldiers when they would see them coming down the road.
Yeah, as if it was just that safe or that easy, right? Well, after spending his time in a group of guys that basically patched up a battalion from Tennessee that needed some Combat Engineers. There he and the few other Texas Guardsmen were looked at like the red-headed bastard step children that show up at a family reunion. All of the promotion slots were given to the Tennesee guys and they supported each other. This is not unusual. When Todd returned home, he went back to Texas and since it was just him returning, there was no ticker tape parade or any sort of big deal made. It was business as usual in Austin. No one on the airplane asked what he was up to or welcomed him home. I make it a point when I am on a plane to inquire on soldiers with combat patches as to if they are coming or going. Usually my son and I will buy them a drink or a snack if they need one.
The only welcome home was the one of his son and I. That was it. Nothing. Months later, he saw in the National Guard magazine, pictures of the Tennessee guys getting their fancy welcome home parade. How nice for them.
Liam and I tried to make it fun, tried to make it a big welcome for him. Two people and a senior citizen dog can only do so much. I know he appreciated it, but I know how really disappointed he was.
When Todd deployed to Afghanistan in 2009, his return home was very exciting, but not in the way any soldier wants it to be. He came home via Medivac. They did not think he would survive the flight from Bagrum Airforce Base in Afghanistan, to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany. To the delight of my son and I, he made it all the way home to Texas. He did not get a parade at that time, either.
It wasn't until April 19, 2012 that he received the true heroes welcome he really deserved. Thanks to a non-profit group called WarriorBeachRetreat.org, he was truly welcomed. Warrior Beach Retreat is a non-profit started by Linda and Phillip Cope, of Panama City Beach, Florida. They started this group after their son Josh was severely injured in Iraq. They realized how couples really need a source of recreation and fun to help balance with all of the seriousness in life after injuries and PTSD.
On Thursday, April 19, Todd received so many thanks I swear my face was hurting from smiling. There were so many people standing on the main streets and the bridge that went over the water to connect to the other side of the city. It was the prettiest thing I have ever seen. The most touching scene for me was to see the young Navy (forgive me for not remembering what the newbies are called in the Navy) cadets were saluting all along the fence perimeter at the Navy Training Academy. I cried because they saluted us so well as if we were important officers or something. I also looked at them like potential children of mine as they were all around 18 years-old and I am 41. I prayed for their safety when they ever had to face deployment. I never want any of them to end up like my husband.
Here is the prettiest thing ever! Make sure you zoom in so you can see the flags and the townspeople holding them. After we drove our wonderful red shiny brand spanking new Toyota Camry in the motorcade and saw everyone out with their flags, we went to the First Baptist Church where we got to have dinner and see a wonderful program recognizing our heroes. As soon as the video is available of it, I will post links. It had me crying my eyes out again. It is soo nice to see my husband's sacrifice being appreciated. So many Viet Nam Veterans stood outside holding flags in formation as we walked by. Todd refused to use a wheel chair and there was a ton of walking. He couldn't use his leg brace because he was wearing his dress shoes. I admire him so much, even if he is stubborn and causes himself more pain. He walked all the way down to the front row of the auditorium.
After the program, a man came up to me thanking me for my service (which made me cry yet again) and told me how Todd inspired him as he could see the grit and determination held in his firm jaw. He inspired me as well. He walked so much that his leg was so swollen from the day before. It did not bother him. He kept on. He walked because he could. Everyone smiled at him. After the program was over, we were put in the foyer to sit and meet and greet the people that came for the program. I am so glad Linda gave us our own box of tissues as it was very emotional watching Todd process the welcome he very much needed. It was cathartic for both of us. I have always felt badly that he never had the parade or anything the media shows many soldiers receiving. I can proudly say he was welcomed home.
The Copes have done tremendously with their group and it was truly a blessing for us. I have not seen my husband smile in so long. He was actually giggling and he told me he had fun while playing on the beach in a Beach Scoot. This was graciously provided for us by the owners of the company. The Scoot looks like a Gator and a Rascal had a baby with really fat tires so it can maneuver on the sand. Fabulous!
Here is a picture of Todd sitting on the Beach Scoot. Note the smile. He was kind of tired, but still happy in this shot.
Here are some other couples with us on the beach. As you can see, they were a blast and the beach at St. Andrew's State Park in Panama City was gorgeous. Some of the softest sand I have ever felt and the water was clear, unlike the murky water I have seen in the Atlantic on the other side of Florida.
We were flown to the event thanks to www.aircompassionforveterans.org. That was really nice. We never have been the recipients of such huge amounts of kindness like this, it was absolutely mindblowing.
We got to stay at the Wyndham Bay Point resort, which was gorgeous.
Here is their web link so you can see better quality pictures of the place as mine don't do it justice.
http://www.wyndhambaypoint.com/?gclid=CJub27DY0a8CFQ7Ctgod8lDMEw
We can't thank the Spa Director enough. The wives of the soldiers got to go to the Spa at the Wyndham or go Deep Sea Fishing. Of course I opted for the Spa. Good decision, hands down. I got a lovely deep tissue massage and custom facial. My skin looked amazing. I didn't even want to wear face powder on it for the rest of the trip, they made it look so good. They made us feel so pampered and spoiled, much like movie stars or royalty or something. I honestly did not want to leave. I joked to my husband,"Is there a button we can push so our son can be sent here and our dog, too?"
I can't thank The Copes enough and I will write again about some of the other activities. It is time for bed as I have hit the ground running since coming home on Monday. It has been doctors appointments as usual. Today was a 4 hour marathon at the VA. Goodnight, all. More to come.
With a big smile in my heart and on my face, I close this one.
We knew he would be sent right over. He picked a MOS (Combat Engineer) that guaranteed that, plus it was what he wanted to do. So there he went, off to Camp Caldwell. There he spent time at Anaconda, Stryker, and more that I don't know about. He was a gunner and operated the .50 Cal. When I would express concern that he was vulnerable on the top of the vehicles with the giant gun, he said,"Love, don't worry. No one fucks with the .50 Cal." He explained that people would scramble from the soldiers when they would see them coming down the road.
Yeah, as if it was just that safe or that easy, right? Well, after spending his time in a group of guys that basically patched up a battalion from Tennessee that needed some Combat Engineers. There he and the few other Texas Guardsmen were looked at like the red-headed bastard step children that show up at a family reunion. All of the promotion slots were given to the Tennesee guys and they supported each other. This is not unusual. When Todd returned home, he went back to Texas and since it was just him returning, there was no ticker tape parade or any sort of big deal made. It was business as usual in Austin. No one on the airplane asked what he was up to or welcomed him home. I make it a point when I am on a plane to inquire on soldiers with combat patches as to if they are coming or going. Usually my son and I will buy them a drink or a snack if they need one.
The only welcome home was the one of his son and I. That was it. Nothing. Months later, he saw in the National Guard magazine, pictures of the Tennessee guys getting their fancy welcome home parade. How nice for them.
Liam and I tried to make it fun, tried to make it a big welcome for him. Two people and a senior citizen dog can only do so much. I know he appreciated it, but I know how really disappointed he was.
When Todd deployed to Afghanistan in 2009, his return home was very exciting, but not in the way any soldier wants it to be. He came home via Medivac. They did not think he would survive the flight from Bagrum Airforce Base in Afghanistan, to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany. To the delight of my son and I, he made it all the way home to Texas. He did not get a parade at that time, either.
It wasn't until April 19, 2012 that he received the true heroes welcome he really deserved. Thanks to a non-profit group called WarriorBeachRetreat.org, he was truly welcomed. Warrior Beach Retreat is a non-profit started by Linda and Phillip Cope, of Panama City Beach, Florida. They started this group after their son Josh was severely injured in Iraq. They realized how couples really need a source of recreation and fun to help balance with all of the seriousness in life after injuries and PTSD.
On Thursday, April 19, Todd received so many thanks I swear my face was hurting from smiling. There were so many people standing on the main streets and the bridge that went over the water to connect to the other side of the city. It was the prettiest thing I have ever seen. The most touching scene for me was to see the young Navy (forgive me for not remembering what the newbies are called in the Navy) cadets were saluting all along the fence perimeter at the Navy Training Academy. I cried because they saluted us so well as if we were important officers or something. I also looked at them like potential children of mine as they were all around 18 years-old and I am 41. I prayed for their safety when they ever had to face deployment. I never want any of them to end up like my husband.
 |
| So many flags, it was the prettiest sight to see. |
After the program, a man came up to me thanking me for my service (which made me cry yet again) and told me how Todd inspired him as he could see the grit and determination held in his firm jaw. He inspired me as well. He walked so much that his leg was so swollen from the day before. It did not bother him. He kept on. He walked because he could. Everyone smiled at him. After the program was over, we were put in the foyer to sit and meet and greet the people that came for the program. I am so glad Linda gave us our own box of tissues as it was very emotional watching Todd process the welcome he very much needed. It was cathartic for both of us. I have always felt badly that he never had the parade or anything the media shows many soldiers receiving. I can proudly say he was welcomed home.
The Copes have done tremendously with their group and it was truly a blessing for us. I have not seen my husband smile in so long. He was actually giggling and he told me he had fun while playing on the beach in a Beach Scoot. This was graciously provided for us by the owners of the company. The Scoot looks like a Gator and a Rascal had a baby with really fat tires so it can maneuver on the sand. Fabulous!
Here is a picture of Todd sitting on the Beach Scoot. Note the smile. He was kind of tired, but still happy in this shot.
 |
| That killer smile - note the appearance of dimples. Indicators of a good time. |
 |
| That beach was so nice I never wanted to leave. Here we are on the far right. |
We were flown to the event thanks to www.aircompassionforveterans.org. That was really nice. We never have been the recipients of such huge amounts of kindness like this, it was absolutely mindblowing.
We got to stay at the Wyndham Bay Point resort, which was gorgeous.
Here is their web link so you can see better quality pictures of the place as mine don't do it justice.
http://www.wyndhambaypoint.com/?gclid=CJub27DY0a8CFQ7Ctgod8lDMEw
We can't thank the Spa Director enough. The wives of the soldiers got to go to the Spa at the Wyndham or go Deep Sea Fishing. Of course I opted for the Spa. Good decision, hands down. I got a lovely deep tissue massage and custom facial. My skin looked amazing. I didn't even want to wear face powder on it for the rest of the trip, they made it look so good. They made us feel so pampered and spoiled, much like movie stars or royalty or something. I honestly did not want to leave. I joked to my husband,"Is there a button we can push so our son can be sent here and our dog, too?"
I can't thank The Copes enough and I will write again about some of the other activities. It is time for bed as I have hit the ground running since coming home on Monday. It has been doctors appointments as usual. Today was a 4 hour marathon at the VA. Goodnight, all. More to come.
With a big smile in my heart and on my face, I close this one.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
When do you stop?
Back in January, I started a support group for fellow wives of wounded soldiers in the Austin, Texas area. When I first started it, I was unsure how it was going to work out and worried that I might not be ready for something like this. It is hard to take on projects when your soldier does not allow you to get your 7 or 8 hours of sleep in one straight block. At my old age, I am not so able to thrive without rest. Funny how I took that for granted. I used to go one whole day without sleep when I had my own business. Talk about drive. I am still driven, just in other ways now.
Back to the group- I have found it to be one of the best things I have ever done. It has helped me a lot and I have seen where it has been useful for some of the other ladies, too. There is room for growth and I have big plans for it. I am so happy that others in similar situations don't feel as alone anymore. It is something I am very glad I did. I get to hear about successes first hand from others trying different methods on fixing their husbands.
So, here is a big question about drive, research, and pushing. For all of you with wounded soldiers at home suffering with TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), and other debilitating health issues, when is enough enough? I can't seem to stop researching the latest and newest methods to help restore cognitive function. I am always googleing TBI, PTSD to see if there are new strategies in helping to remedy the side effects. Through one of my friend's blogs, I see there are injections that are being given to soldiers suffering with PTSD and that they do help a lot on reducing anxiety. However they have to be repeated every 3-4 months. To get the shot, you have to go to the clinic, which is far from here. So my hubby would have to endure the painful journey of getting there as well as receiving the injection, which would be another kind of pain. When I started talking to him about it as I got excited when I saw Kristle's blog, he said he was not interested.
What? You are not interested? You like having PTSD? You like having the nightmares that make you literally sweat out a gallon of sweat each night and have the flashbacks? You like waking up sick to your stomach when you experience one of your many horrible wartime experiences? How can you not want to get rid of this? How can you not want to try something new to get it eliminated?
I got upset. I thought WTF- why am I doing all of this research to help him regain his short term memory issues and other cognitive deficits that really frustrate him if he does not even want to try something that has a documented success rate?
He won't even try acupuncture and I have many wives tell me how much it has helped their soldiers with pain and also some of their anxiety. Anxiety is the huge feeding pool which fuels PTSD. This is not fair. I hear about all sorts of new treatments and things to try and he won't even consider it.
What do you ladies do? I am frustrated. I don't want things to be like this for the rest of our life. I want him to have fulfillment from what he does and to feel good about himself again. I want him to one day wake up without the chronic pain that knocks him down and makes him sick to his stomach.
Is that too much to ask for? Do I just stop and give up?
When I look at my husband, who is still young at age 41 and has a life left in front of him- I can't imagine him not trying something to help him feel more like he used to. Would he want to spend the next 25-30 years suffering with chronic pain? Would he want to keep going and keep the blinders on to alternative treatments around him?
Can I just stop and let him control what he tries next? Can I let go of this?
Back to the group- I have found it to be one of the best things I have ever done. It has helped me a lot and I have seen where it has been useful for some of the other ladies, too. There is room for growth and I have big plans for it. I am so happy that others in similar situations don't feel as alone anymore. It is something I am very glad I did. I get to hear about successes first hand from others trying different methods on fixing their husbands.
So, here is a big question about drive, research, and pushing. For all of you with wounded soldiers at home suffering with TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), and other debilitating health issues, when is enough enough? I can't seem to stop researching the latest and newest methods to help restore cognitive function. I am always googleing TBI, PTSD to see if there are new strategies in helping to remedy the side effects. Through one of my friend's blogs, I see there are injections that are being given to soldiers suffering with PTSD and that they do help a lot on reducing anxiety. However they have to be repeated every 3-4 months. To get the shot, you have to go to the clinic, which is far from here. So my hubby would have to endure the painful journey of getting there as well as receiving the injection, which would be another kind of pain. When I started talking to him about it as I got excited when I saw Kristle's blog, he said he was not interested.
What? You are not interested? You like having PTSD? You like having the nightmares that make you literally sweat out a gallon of sweat each night and have the flashbacks? You like waking up sick to your stomach when you experience one of your many horrible wartime experiences? How can you not want to get rid of this? How can you not want to try something new to get it eliminated?
I got upset. I thought WTF- why am I doing all of this research to help him regain his short term memory issues and other cognitive deficits that really frustrate him if he does not even want to try something that has a documented success rate?
He won't even try acupuncture and I have many wives tell me how much it has helped their soldiers with pain and also some of their anxiety. Anxiety is the huge feeding pool which fuels PTSD. This is not fair. I hear about all sorts of new treatments and things to try and he won't even consider it.
What do you ladies do? I am frustrated. I don't want things to be like this for the rest of our life. I want him to have fulfillment from what he does and to feel good about himself again. I want him to one day wake up without the chronic pain that knocks him down and makes him sick to his stomach.
Is that too much to ask for? Do I just stop and give up?
When I look at my husband, who is still young at age 41 and has a life left in front of him- I can't imagine him not trying something to help him feel more like he used to. Would he want to spend the next 25-30 years suffering with chronic pain? Would he want to keep going and keep the blinders on to alternative treatments around him?
Can I just stop and let him control what he tries next? Can I let go of this?
Friday, March 2, 2012
Not alone in being alone
One of my fellow wounded warrior wives posted a funny, but sad list of "You know you are a wife of a wounded soldier when.." It was amazing how many women posted something that I have experienced. It was very eye opening as I did not realize how much of it I had experienced.
What I mean is that the time has gone by so fast, I did not pay attention to all of the minutia that had changed in my life or that I had to adjust to. When reading some of the other women's comments, they triggered memories in my mind that I had forgotten about. Kind of like when you watch a mother hold a toddler on one hip, balance a diaper bag, purse, laptop bag, and lunch in the other free hand. Her toddler drops a toy and she bends with everything else in her hands and arms and in one quick, efficient step, has retrieved the toy.
You just adjust physically and mentally and get stronger as your baby grows. In this case, it was mental growth. Realization of how things that can seem so bleak and difficult (and there were some pretty tough days) are surmountable. The ability to keep plugging along is something us WWW's have in common. Ever since I had found the website for the Wounded Warrior Wives, it has been a literal lifesaver for me. I have posted their website in the Useful Links area. I recommend it to any of you spouses.
In some of my blogs I wrote about the isolation I felt being the caregiver of a wounded soldier. No one else knows what it is like laying next to someone having nightmares that cause their husbands to get up and run to the restroom because they are so upsetting they make him throw up. To lie there and listen the moans, yells, avoid the flailing arms moving in self-protection, and console him when he wakes up. To get up with your child in the morning after you have had only three hours of sleep and act like everything is rosy and handle a few things and then take a nap when scheduling allows. To be fully aware of all of the things that trigger his PTSD and keep him in a zone to allow him to be more comfortable when he is out in public, in crowds, and other places where he can feel apprehensive.
We (wives of wounded soldiers) do all of those things without really thinking about it. We do it out of love for our soldiers. Just like how my husband STILL opens the door for me first, even if he is having an extra sore day and he will walk all the way around his truck to my side first. Even in rain. The Taliban did not blast away the gentleman that he was prior to getting injured. They did not blast away his courage, his strength, and his heart for his country. He does those things automatically.
When I look back on the isolation that took over me when I was away at the Fisher House and had to spend the weekdays away from my son, I can remember when the darkness faded and the sun started to shine. It was when I first read a forum that one of the wives had commented in. It was seriously a light in the tunnel of never ending darkness. It makes me think of that Police song,"Message In a Bottle." The lyrics in which Sting's character finds a million other bottles with messages lying on the shore,"It seems I am not so lonely being alone.." It just rang true. None of us are alone anymore. There are brave wives dealing with bureaucracy to help the future veterans not have to fight as hard for their health care. Some of them are giving voice to the many issues we are all enduring. I applaud every single one of them. I can only thank you. Your willingness to share the resources you have found along the way of helping your husbands recover has only inspired me to do the same.
What I mean is that the time has gone by so fast, I did not pay attention to all of the minutia that had changed in my life or that I had to adjust to. When reading some of the other women's comments, they triggered memories in my mind that I had forgotten about. Kind of like when you watch a mother hold a toddler on one hip, balance a diaper bag, purse, laptop bag, and lunch in the other free hand. Her toddler drops a toy and she bends with everything else in her hands and arms and in one quick, efficient step, has retrieved the toy.
You just adjust physically and mentally and get stronger as your baby grows. In this case, it was mental growth. Realization of how things that can seem so bleak and difficult (and there were some pretty tough days) are surmountable. The ability to keep plugging along is something us WWW's have in common. Ever since I had found the website for the Wounded Warrior Wives, it has been a literal lifesaver for me. I have posted their website in the Useful Links area. I recommend it to any of you spouses.
In some of my blogs I wrote about the isolation I felt being the caregiver of a wounded soldier. No one else knows what it is like laying next to someone having nightmares that cause their husbands to get up and run to the restroom because they are so upsetting they make him throw up. To lie there and listen the moans, yells, avoid the flailing arms moving in self-protection, and console him when he wakes up. To get up with your child in the morning after you have had only three hours of sleep and act like everything is rosy and handle a few things and then take a nap when scheduling allows. To be fully aware of all of the things that trigger his PTSD and keep him in a zone to allow him to be more comfortable when he is out in public, in crowds, and other places where he can feel apprehensive.
We (wives of wounded soldiers) do all of those things without really thinking about it. We do it out of love for our soldiers. Just like how my husband STILL opens the door for me first, even if he is having an extra sore day and he will walk all the way around his truck to my side first. Even in rain. The Taliban did not blast away the gentleman that he was prior to getting injured. They did not blast away his courage, his strength, and his heart for his country. He does those things automatically.
When I look back on the isolation that took over me when I was away at the Fisher House and had to spend the weekdays away from my son, I can remember when the darkness faded and the sun started to shine. It was when I first read a forum that one of the wives had commented in. It was seriously a light in the tunnel of never ending darkness. It makes me think of that Police song,"Message In a Bottle." The lyrics in which Sting's character finds a million other bottles with messages lying on the shore,"It seems I am not so lonely being alone.." It just rang true. None of us are alone anymore. There are brave wives dealing with bureaucracy to help the future veterans not have to fight as hard for their health care. Some of them are giving voice to the many issues we are all enduring. I applaud every single one of them. I can only thank you. Your willingness to share the resources you have found along the way of helping your husbands recover has only inspired me to do the same.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Writer's Guild East Part 2 - November 2011
I know this is a long-overdue post about something absolutely wonderful and intense that I feel so lucky to have been a part of. Last July, myself and some other WWW's got to go to NYC to meet with the Writer's Guild East. The Guild is a bunch of amazingly talented, successful and professional playwrights, novelists, TV writers, and more.
November 2011 was our time for the second trip of the retreat. The purpose was to have our mentors look at our writing we had done during the few months in between the retreats and give us some constructive feedback on our writing. It was a great experience. I am working on my memoirs or "momoirs" as my son calls them.
As many of you can imagine, to write about something very profound and life changing can be like opening Pandora's Box of emotions. I have not had the time or the privacy to sit and blubber like a fool while I type a bunch of stuff out. I know I need to do it, I will do it. I will just have to make sure I hit up the local Costco for tissues. Have you ever experienced something and stuffed all of your emotions away just so you could put out the fires life throws at you and so you can be strong for your kiddos? That is what I did.
Just when I thought I had the lock tightly closed and hatch sealed, I found out during our trip we were going to visit Ground Zero. Ground Zero is the area of New York City in which the Twin Towers once were. This is the hallowed ground of 9/11. Anyone that knows my husband Todd, knows that it was 9/11 that inspired him to join the National Guard before he was too old to do it. My mind was spinning at the thought of seeing a memorial to all of our innocent people lost on a brutal attack that many people, even New Yorkers, have forgotten about.
The trip would put in front of me the most visually impacting symbols of loss and hope that I have ever seen. My husband is forever suffering from serving his country. Wounds that are both visible to the eye, and invisible. The invisible wounds are the worst ones.
It was a beautiful day in November, 2011 when we all got off of the bus and walked to Ground Zero and waited in line to get in. On the outside, there is a beautiful bas relief in bronze of the firefighters who died trying to help rescue the people trapped in the rubble.
That bronze sculpture above wrapped around a huge side of the firehouse. It made me cry when I saw all of the in memory of written on the plaque. So many people sacrificed themselves to help strangers. How many people sacrifice anything at all in their lives to help others? There were a bunch of tourists around from other countries. Some were standing in front of the wall laughing, cracking jokes and posing. I wanted to kick them hard. To me it was a solemn, beautiful thing to look at and give it respect. Not treat it like a Mickey Mouse statue at Disney World.
In the museum, there were items that were found in the rubble and excavation of the property to build the new memorial grounds that are breathtaking and very tactful.
The item above was a .45 revolver that had melted into the cement during the blast.
One of the things that made it surreal and heart breaking was the wall of pictures of the lost. The walls were tall- I am guessing around 20 feet tall and were covered every inch of pictures of people missing and lost. People to never be seen again. I thought of every family missing their loved ones and it made me glad. Glad that my husband decided to stand up and support his country. Never again did he want to see such horrors inflicted on US soil ever again, not if he could help it.
The stuffed lamb really made me sad. I thought about a child dealing with the panic of what that day was like. The museum had sound bytes from the 911 calls, to actual messages from victim's cell phones. It sounded like pure chaos. The innocence that the animal portrays made me think about the parent that had to reconcile the fact that they were not going to live through the event. How can you hold your child's hand in a tragedy and look into their eyes, knowing you are only going to see them again in heaven.
This was my hand written dedication to the memorial. Visitors from everywhere wrote their kind words of healing, faith, encouragement, and support. I was blown away to see the kindness of others that poured in via these postcards of support. Some from South America, Africa, and the Middle East. It made me smile to see kindness. To see humanity.
Outside, where the twin towers used to be are two beautiful giant granite and marble monuments with large water fountains in them. Here are the pictures of those.
I took pictures of some of my friends, but I was crying my eyes out, looking at the symbols of my husband's best times of his life and the worst. It was hard to see the reasons he went to war, right in front of me. I am so glad I did get to see it. I really felt that it was beautiful the way the people's names are lit up along the sides of it. The names were the firemen. There were so many names.
I am proud of my husband for serving his country at a time of crisis and I do not regret what he did. He will never regret not answering the feeling he had of patriotism to sacrifice his life and the life of his family for serving.
I hope we never ever again see such a sickening loss of life on our soil ever again.
November 2011 was our time for the second trip of the retreat. The purpose was to have our mentors look at our writing we had done during the few months in between the retreats and give us some constructive feedback on our writing. It was a great experience. I am working on my memoirs or "momoirs" as my son calls them.
As many of you can imagine, to write about something very profound and life changing can be like opening Pandora's Box of emotions. I have not had the time or the privacy to sit and blubber like a fool while I type a bunch of stuff out. I know I need to do it, I will do it. I will just have to make sure I hit up the local Costco for tissues. Have you ever experienced something and stuffed all of your emotions away just so you could put out the fires life throws at you and so you can be strong for your kiddos? That is what I did.
Just when I thought I had the lock tightly closed and hatch sealed, I found out during our trip we were going to visit Ground Zero. Ground Zero is the area of New York City in which the Twin Towers once were. This is the hallowed ground of 9/11. Anyone that knows my husband Todd, knows that it was 9/11 that inspired him to join the National Guard before he was too old to do it. My mind was spinning at the thought of seeing a memorial to all of our innocent people lost on a brutal attack that many people, even New Yorkers, have forgotten about.
The trip would put in front of me the most visually impacting symbols of loss and hope that I have ever seen. My husband is forever suffering from serving his country. Wounds that are both visible to the eye, and invisible. The invisible wounds are the worst ones.
It was a beautiful day in November, 2011 when we all got off of the bus and walked to Ground Zero and waited in line to get in. On the outside, there is a beautiful bas relief in bronze of the firefighters who died trying to help rescue the people trapped in the rubble.
That bronze sculpture above wrapped around a huge side of the firehouse. It made me cry when I saw all of the in memory of written on the plaque. So many people sacrificed themselves to help strangers. How many people sacrifice anything at all in their lives to help others? There were a bunch of tourists around from other countries. Some were standing in front of the wall laughing, cracking jokes and posing. I wanted to kick them hard. To me it was a solemn, beautiful thing to look at and give it respect. Not treat it like a Mickey Mouse statue at Disney World.
In the museum, there were items that were found in the rubble and excavation of the property to build the new memorial grounds that are breathtaking and very tactful.
The item above was a .45 revolver that had melted into the cement during the blast.
One of the things that made it surreal and heart breaking was the wall of pictures of the lost. The walls were tall- I am guessing around 20 feet tall and were covered every inch of pictures of people missing and lost. People to never be seen again. I thought of every family missing their loved ones and it made me glad. Glad that my husband decided to stand up and support his country. Never again did he want to see such horrors inflicted on US soil ever again, not if he could help it.
The stuffed lamb really made me sad. I thought about a child dealing with the panic of what that day was like. The museum had sound bytes from the 911 calls, to actual messages from victim's cell phones. It sounded like pure chaos. The innocence that the animal portrays made me think about the parent that had to reconcile the fact that they were not going to live through the event. How can you hold your child's hand in a tragedy and look into their eyes, knowing you are only going to see them again in heaven.
This was my hand written dedication to the memorial. Visitors from everywhere wrote their kind words of healing, faith, encouragement, and support. I was blown away to see the kindness of others that poured in via these postcards of support. Some from South America, Africa, and the Middle East. It made me smile to see kindness. To see humanity.
Outside, where the twin towers used to be are two beautiful giant granite and marble monuments with large water fountains in them. Here are the pictures of those.
I took pictures of some of my friends, but I was crying my eyes out, looking at the symbols of my husband's best times of his life and the worst. It was hard to see the reasons he went to war, right in front of me. I am so glad I did get to see it. I really felt that it was beautiful the way the people's names are lit up along the sides of it. The names were the firemen. There were so many names.
I am proud of my husband for serving his country at a time of crisis and I do not regret what he did. He will never regret not answering the feeling he had of patriotism to sacrifice his life and the life of his family for serving.
I hope we never ever again see such a sickening loss of life on our soil ever again.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
What PTSD is really like for some guys
Today I was on Facebook looking at the posts some of my friends had written. One of my fellow wounded warrior wives's husband posted this blog about PTSD and I thought it was refreshing. Refreshing to see a man not afraid to talk about something that so many guys are sadly embarrassed about having.
If you check this out, you will be amazed at his way of writing what many of our soldiers feel. Thank you, Rob!!!
http://rhinoden.rangerup.com/i-have-ptsd-so-what/#comment-11358
If you check this out, you will be amazed at his way of writing what many of our soldiers feel. Thank you, Rob!!!
http://rhinoden.rangerup.com/i-have-ptsd-so-what/#comment-11358
Saturday, July 2, 2011
WWW meets NYC Writer's Guild East
About two months ago, I received an email from my contact at the Wounded Warrior's Wives Group asking me if I would like to attend a writing workshop in NYC for the wives of wounded soldiers. The purpose of the workshop would be to help us find our voices and develop the way we write. Really! NYC! To go and develop my writing? Hell yeah!!
June 17, 2011 I boarded the plane to NYC. I was so exited as I spent 23 years of my life growing up in NY state, but never got to go to the city. Finally, I get to see the big apple. I got in, got in my room at the Affinia Manhattan and settled in.
The next morning at breakfast all of us wives were a buzz thinking about what the day would bring. We took a bus to the Writer's Guild East building and walked in. We sat in a large conference room and were introduced to the writers who would be our mentors that weekend. To my amazement, Eric Bogosian walked in. Many of you might remember him from the movie, Talk Radio. That movie was crafted after his Pulitzer nominated play of the same title. Can you imagine sitting in the room with such an accomplished playwright and actor! He was a really nice, approachable person. Here is a picture of me with Eric.
We all had breakfast, introduced ourselves to the Guild and got sectioned off into groups to meet with our particular mentors. My mentors for that weekend were Matthew Eck and Gina Gionfriddo. Matthew is a writer who wrote a book called The Farther Shore. Gina wrote the play, Becky Shaw. She is an accomplished playwright and television writer as well. She has written for Cold Case, Law and Order and Law and Order Criminal Intent.
They talked to the other wives and I about what type of writing did we want to do and how to get started. We talked about what we have done so far and what we all hope to accomplish. Some of us had been blogging, some are quite accomplished in it and some have former news writing experience.
That evening we got to do some sight seeing and explore Manhattan. It was a blast. We were told that we were getting to go see The Lion King or Mary Poppins on Broadway. I drew a ticket for The Lion King and it was absolutely amazing. The sound was beautiful - there were 3 percussion stands (two up mid level against the sides of the stage walls and one below in the orchestra pit). Some of the characters joined the rest of the cast from different positions in the audience! It was a lot of fun to watch the "elephants" and other animals make their way to the stage. What a treat it was both visually and aurally. I sat in the front row! My friend Amy and I were giggling like little kids at our great seats.
We did more sight seeing and walked from 31st Street to 59th Street so we could see FAO Schwartz and the rest of the shops of notoriety. It was so fun to see all of the images as a New Yorker I had seen in movies and magazines, but had never gotten to experience. I never felt in any danger. The police had a large presence there and I felt safe even as it started to get dark. I really enjoyed the city.
Energized from new experiences and making new friendships with some of the wives I hadn't met before, I woke up ready for our day at the Writer's Guild. Matthew had us do a character development exercise that was really cool. We had to come up with a name for a character, then list various things that the character would believe in or have in their possession. From the bottom level up, I built a character. It was a very helpful exercise to me. We did some other writing exercises and it was an incredible learning experience.
When the trip came to an end, I was ready to return to my soldier and son, but I was happy that I had learned some new skills, met some amazing, courageous wives of wounded soldiers, and made some INCREDIBLE literary contacts. Part of me did not want to leave New York City as I had really enjoyed the bits of it that I had experienced. I wanted to see more and do more so I will definitely do that when we get to return late October-early November.
I can not thank the Wounded Warrior Project and the Writer's Guild East enough for the experience. It was incredible and I am so happy to have met such a brilliant group of writers. Thank you to everyone that made the trip possible.
June 17, 2011 I boarded the plane to NYC. I was so exited as I spent 23 years of my life growing up in NY state, but never got to go to the city. Finally, I get to see the big apple. I got in, got in my room at the Affinia Manhattan and settled in.
The next morning at breakfast all of us wives were a buzz thinking about what the day would bring. We took a bus to the Writer's Guild East building and walked in. We sat in a large conference room and were introduced to the writers who would be our mentors that weekend. To my amazement, Eric Bogosian walked in. Many of you might remember him from the movie, Talk Radio. That movie was crafted after his Pulitzer nominated play of the same title. Can you imagine sitting in the room with such an accomplished playwright and actor! He was a really nice, approachable person. Here is a picture of me with Eric.
We all had breakfast, introduced ourselves to the Guild and got sectioned off into groups to meet with our particular mentors. My mentors for that weekend were Matthew Eck and Gina Gionfriddo. Matthew is a writer who wrote a book called The Farther Shore. Gina wrote the play, Becky Shaw. She is an accomplished playwright and television writer as well. She has written for Cold Case, Law and Order and Law and Order Criminal Intent.
They talked to the other wives and I about what type of writing did we want to do and how to get started. We talked about what we have done so far and what we all hope to accomplish. Some of us had been blogging, some are quite accomplished in it and some have former news writing experience.
That evening we got to do some sight seeing and explore Manhattan. It was a blast. We were told that we were getting to go see The Lion King or Mary Poppins on Broadway. I drew a ticket for The Lion King and it was absolutely amazing. The sound was beautiful - there were 3 percussion stands (two up mid level against the sides of the stage walls and one below in the orchestra pit). Some of the characters joined the rest of the cast from different positions in the audience! It was a lot of fun to watch the "elephants" and other animals make their way to the stage. What a treat it was both visually and aurally. I sat in the front row! My friend Amy and I were giggling like little kids at our great seats.
We did more sight seeing and walked from 31st Street to 59th Street so we could see FAO Schwartz and the rest of the shops of notoriety. It was so fun to see all of the images as a New Yorker I had seen in movies and magazines, but had never gotten to experience. I never felt in any danger. The police had a large presence there and I felt safe even as it started to get dark. I really enjoyed the city.
Energized from new experiences and making new friendships with some of the wives I hadn't met before, I woke up ready for our day at the Writer's Guild. Matthew had us do a character development exercise that was really cool. We had to come up with a name for a character, then list various things that the character would believe in or have in their possession. From the bottom level up, I built a character. It was a very helpful exercise to me. We did some other writing exercises and it was an incredible learning experience.
When the trip came to an end, I was ready to return to my soldier and son, but I was happy that I had learned some new skills, met some amazing, courageous wives of wounded soldiers, and made some INCREDIBLE literary contacts. Part of me did not want to leave New York City as I had really enjoyed the bits of it that I had experienced. I wanted to see more and do more so I will definitely do that when we get to return late October-early November.
I can not thank the Wounded Warrior Project and the Writer's Guild East enough for the experience. It was incredible and I am so happy to have met such a brilliant group of writers. Thank you to everyone that made the trip possible.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Smiles and Sunshine and Strong Shoulders
Today is a beautiful day. It went from 19 degrees and snowy of all things to a great spring day of what feels like 65 degrees. Definitely a quick flash of winter for us here in Texas.
After dealing with the loss of all of the things I have not allowed myself to feel, it is a nice feeling of the weight being lifted off of my shoulders. I think I saved myself a few visits to the counselor with last weekend's revelations and thoughts I finally felt. Now we need to work on the task at hand, which is to get Todd the best help we can so we can help him figure out what his plan B will be in case he can not physically or mentally handle his job. His fear is that he will not be able to work due to his lack of short term memory. In order to do any sort of job, you have to remember what you have read a few minutes later. Sadly, he isn't cut out for a physical job as he has no energy or stamina due to his blood disorder and leg injury.
However, his shoulders are strong, his willpower is there, and I know that things will get better in time. Just have to take it one day at a time and tonight, I get to go to Carnival with my friends. I am looking forward to dancing and spending time with my girlfriends.
After dealing with the loss of all of the things I have not allowed myself to feel, it is a nice feeling of the weight being lifted off of my shoulders. I think I saved myself a few visits to the counselor with last weekend's revelations and thoughts I finally felt. Now we need to work on the task at hand, which is to get Todd the best help we can so we can help him figure out what his plan B will be in case he can not physically or mentally handle his job. His fear is that he will not be able to work due to his lack of short term memory. In order to do any sort of job, you have to remember what you have read a few minutes later. Sadly, he isn't cut out for a physical job as he has no energy or stamina due to his blood disorder and leg injury.
However, his shoulders are strong, his willpower is there, and I know that things will get better in time. Just have to take it one day at a time and tonight, I get to go to Carnival with my friends. I am looking forward to dancing and spending time with my girlfriends.
Monday, January 31, 2011
15 months have flown by
I had a major breakdown of grief the other day - it started while at the muster for the community based wtu and as I was looking the nurse manager in the eye and the Col, who I love. It all of a sudden clicked with me that it has been 15 months since Todd got hurt and I haven't seen a ton of improvement. My eyes started tearing up and it was all I could do to try to be non-emotional when covering all of what needed to be addressed and fighting to get him to go to the shepherd center. When I complained about his quality of life and how he needs and deserves better, they both agreed.
Saturday, on our way back from San Antonio, I got to stay with my bff and go to of all things, a Tupperware party. It was a lot of fun and I am going to have one. The next day I was taking a bath in her giant tub and all of a sudden I started crying as I remembered thinking that Todd resembled an old man getting out of his truck as he used his cane and negotiated the grass and rough terrain. It made me cry thinking that we are never going to be able to learn the Tango together. He had told me we would do that when he got home from Afghanistan. I cried for him having an uncertain health with his blood chemistry all whacked. I cried for the loss of the strong, agile man that I used to have. I cried for him suffering with his TBI and PTSD and how it has taken away his self esteem. I let it all out. I cried for all of the worry, the pain, and loss of his two friends that died that day. It was bottled up for so long and I needed to let it out. Now that I have let it out, I feel a bit clearer on what we need to do. My plan for him is clearer. Even though it will be tough on us, we will do what needs to be done to give him improved health and a reason for being.
Saturday, on our way back from San Antonio, I got to stay with my bff and go to of all things, a Tupperware party. It was a lot of fun and I am going to have one. The next day I was taking a bath in her giant tub and all of a sudden I started crying as I remembered thinking that Todd resembled an old man getting out of his truck as he used his cane and negotiated the grass and rough terrain. It made me cry thinking that we are never going to be able to learn the Tango together. He had told me we would do that when he got home from Afghanistan. I cried for him having an uncertain health with his blood chemistry all whacked. I cried for the loss of the strong, agile man that I used to have. I cried for him suffering with his TBI and PTSD and how it has taken away his self esteem. I let it all out. I cried for all of the worry, the pain, and loss of his two friends that died that day. It was bottled up for so long and I needed to let it out. Now that I have let it out, I feel a bit clearer on what we need to do. My plan for him is clearer. Even though it will be tough on us, we will do what needs to be done to give him improved health and a reason for being.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
January 2011
It has been a while since I have gotten to put some thoughts down on paper. We have been pretty busy with traveling back and forth to San Antonio for CSF's Med Board medical appointments.
We also met at the Center For The Intrepid to get him fitted for a brace so his right leg that is considered a "salvage" stops buckling at the knee when he steps forward. He has had 8 surgeries on that leg so far. It is never a good thing for the army docs to call your limb a salvage. To me it gives a visual of a junkyard. Inside of his right leg, he has metal from his right knee to his hip bone. Now, due to his lack of white blood cells we really don't want him to have to endure any more surgery on that leg. An infection would cause him to lose the leg at the hip and that would be incapable of a prosthetic.
He has a lot of hetero-topic ossification in the limb, which is bone growth that grows all through out the remaining muscle. In other words, it's bone where he shouldn't have any. It pinches in against the nerves. Just sitting in a hard wooden chair causes him excruciating pain.
The brace prototype did show some positive results!!! It will take Todd some getting used to working his remaining leg muscles differently with it, but in about 3 weeks, the real brace should be ready for him to try. I hope it helps him walk better. I think for him to walk upright and without a cane, would be the gift he certainly deserves.
Time will tell!
We also met at the Center For The Intrepid to get him fitted for a brace so his right leg that is considered a "salvage" stops buckling at the knee when he steps forward. He has had 8 surgeries on that leg so far. It is never a good thing for the army docs to call your limb a salvage. To me it gives a visual of a junkyard. Inside of his right leg, he has metal from his right knee to his hip bone. Now, due to his lack of white blood cells we really don't want him to have to endure any more surgery on that leg. An infection would cause him to lose the leg at the hip and that would be incapable of a prosthetic.
He has a lot of hetero-topic ossification in the limb, which is bone growth that grows all through out the remaining muscle. In other words, it's bone where he shouldn't have any. It pinches in against the nerves. Just sitting in a hard wooden chair causes him excruciating pain.
The brace prototype did show some positive results!!! It will take Todd some getting used to working his remaining leg muscles differently with it, but in about 3 weeks, the real brace should be ready for him to try. I hope it helps him walk better. I think for him to walk upright and without a cane, would be the gift he certainly deserves.
Time will tell!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wonderful Things
Some of the wonderful things I have experienced since my husband has been hurt is that people in the community where we live sent a lot of cards and some associations made quilts for him which were really beautiful. We received a few donations along the way, which helped for the gas that I had to buy going back and forth to Taylor every weekend from San Antonio to pick up our son.
Christmas was wonderful for us as we got to spend it in our own house, in our own city, and sleeping in our own bed! We were staying at the Fisher House at Fort Sam last year and it just didn't feel the same. At least hubby was in the room with me instead of being an outpatient. I always reflect on our past year during the holidays. I have always done this, ever since I lost my Granny in 1989.
Our lives have been filled with some wonderful people. My family is in the east coast and we are out here in Texas so they didn't come to help out when Todd got hurt. I really did not have any resources except for my friends.
My husband's family lives a few hours away and they stayed with him for a bit when they could get away from their own obligations and jobs.
It was nice when it was just my husband and I together at night, talking about what we were going to do when he gets medically retired and what are we going to do with our home repairs and what we love and miss dearly about our son.
Every Sunday leaving the Fisher House to take him back to my friends that took him in so he did not have to leave the school mid year was just a killer.
It was a palpable dark cloud on us that we could see when we woke up. Knowing I was going to have to drive back without him in the car with me.
I don't know if our son ever realized how much it killed us to say goodbye.
I am so thankful to God that we were all together and that we are living together as a family again. I can't express to anyone how nice it is to wake up in the morning and hear my son's laughs and to be around our dog and see our things and live the way we want to live.
I don't think my husband's family understands how much he has been away from home. Todd was deployed twice to war,spent many times away for hurricane duty and also went to mission trainings that took him away from his own bed.
We have most of the time- I think 14 out of 15 years of marriage we went to his parents house for Christmas, versus spending it at home and having our own tradition.
Now that CSF is injured, he just can't take such a car ride. The 3 1/2 long car rides just kill him. It takes a lot out of him. It isn't just the oppressive pain he has in his leg and back, but the energy it drains out of him. He received a couple of guilt-inducing calls and a card that did not have a nice Christmas message on it, but "hope you change your mind about the drive." Well, no one in his family has had a leg almost blown off. None of them are suffering from PTSD and suffer from the constant pain and sleep deprivation he does. None of them realize how when you add up all of these factors and top it off with a huge dose of pancytopenia (low blood cells of all colors), it makes it so he can't do anything the next day.
How long do I have to watch this crap go on and not say anything? His own father doesn't believe that PTSD is a real condition so my husband does not want me to tell him. I don't as that is his business. However, it is very sad for me to watch my husband feel like he is not being good to his family because he just does not feel good enough for a trip. He has his good days and his bad days. The bad days he can not get out of bed hardly. The good days he is smiling, looking good, almost a vision of his former self.
We (his son and I) understand the ebbs and flows of his health. No one else around him does. His own family assumed that once he got out of the hospital, all is good. It is sad the river of denial that flows through their minds.
They don't want to think about how his life is so different now, how his mind is occupied even in sleep with horrors none of us ever want to contemplate, and makes it so sleep even isn't fun. His legs, arms, body twitches a lot when he goes to sleep. He puts off bedtime every night as he doesn't want to face the nightmares. I know that is why he does it. I even got him to admit it one night.
People he knew prior to the IED blast look at him and see his sweating forehead, the cane he uses, and the painful gait he has. They think that the problem with his leg is all he has. I let people we don't know think that it is all he is dealing with and listen to them telling him not to give up and to keep up with his therapy. Like that is really going to grow back a new half of a quad on his leg. To me the bigger worry is why is he missing white and red blood cells? We have seen 3 hemooncologists and they do not have any clue. One suggested removing his spleen just to see if the white cells are being eaten up by it. I asked her what the probability is and she didn't have any. So here we are, a year later and no answers. How long can he live that way? How long can the pain medicines be cycled in and out without hurting him long term? Will he be able to grow old with me?
Those are the questions in my mind,I have resigned myself to pray for his comfort and quality of life and leave the rest up to the big guy upstairs.
That is all I can do.
We are excited about celebrating 2011. We have a lot of exciting plans. My honey turns 40 and I am throwing him a party. My hope for you all reading this is that your 2011 is healthy, fun, and happy.
Christmas was wonderful for us as we got to spend it in our own house, in our own city, and sleeping in our own bed! We were staying at the Fisher House at Fort Sam last year and it just didn't feel the same. At least hubby was in the room with me instead of being an outpatient. I always reflect on our past year during the holidays. I have always done this, ever since I lost my Granny in 1989.
Our lives have been filled with some wonderful people. My family is in the east coast and we are out here in Texas so they didn't come to help out when Todd got hurt. I really did not have any resources except for my friends.
My husband's family lives a few hours away and they stayed with him for a bit when they could get away from their own obligations and jobs.
It was nice when it was just my husband and I together at night, talking about what we were going to do when he gets medically retired and what are we going to do with our home repairs and what we love and miss dearly about our son.
Every Sunday leaving the Fisher House to take him back to my friends that took him in so he did not have to leave the school mid year was just a killer.
It was a palpable dark cloud on us that we could see when we woke up. Knowing I was going to have to drive back without him in the car with me.
I don't know if our son ever realized how much it killed us to say goodbye.
I am so thankful to God that we were all together and that we are living together as a family again. I can't express to anyone how nice it is to wake up in the morning and hear my son's laughs and to be around our dog and see our things and live the way we want to live.
I don't think my husband's family understands how much he has been away from home. Todd was deployed twice to war,spent many times away for hurricane duty and also went to mission trainings that took him away from his own bed.
We have most of the time- I think 14 out of 15 years of marriage we went to his parents house for Christmas, versus spending it at home and having our own tradition.
Now that CSF is injured, he just can't take such a car ride. The 3 1/2 long car rides just kill him. It takes a lot out of him. It isn't just the oppressive pain he has in his leg and back, but the energy it drains out of him. He received a couple of guilt-inducing calls and a card that did not have a nice Christmas message on it, but "hope you change your mind about the drive." Well, no one in his family has had a leg almost blown off. None of them are suffering from PTSD and suffer from the constant pain and sleep deprivation he does. None of them realize how when you add up all of these factors and top it off with a huge dose of pancytopenia (low blood cells of all colors), it makes it so he can't do anything the next day.
How long do I have to watch this crap go on and not say anything? His own father doesn't believe that PTSD is a real condition so my husband does not want me to tell him. I don't as that is his business. However, it is very sad for me to watch my husband feel like he is not being good to his family because he just does not feel good enough for a trip. He has his good days and his bad days. The bad days he can not get out of bed hardly. The good days he is smiling, looking good, almost a vision of his former self.
We (his son and I) understand the ebbs and flows of his health. No one else around him does. His own family assumed that once he got out of the hospital, all is good. It is sad the river of denial that flows through their minds.
They don't want to think about how his life is so different now, how his mind is occupied even in sleep with horrors none of us ever want to contemplate, and makes it so sleep even isn't fun. His legs, arms, body twitches a lot when he goes to sleep. He puts off bedtime every night as he doesn't want to face the nightmares. I know that is why he does it. I even got him to admit it one night.
People he knew prior to the IED blast look at him and see his sweating forehead, the cane he uses, and the painful gait he has. They think that the problem with his leg is all he has. I let people we don't know think that it is all he is dealing with and listen to them telling him not to give up and to keep up with his therapy. Like that is really going to grow back a new half of a quad on his leg. To me the bigger worry is why is he missing white and red blood cells? We have seen 3 hemooncologists and they do not have any clue. One suggested removing his spleen just to see if the white cells are being eaten up by it. I asked her what the probability is and she didn't have any. So here we are, a year later and no answers. How long can he live that way? How long can the pain medicines be cycled in and out without hurting him long term? Will he be able to grow old with me?
Those are the questions in my mind,I have resigned myself to pray for his comfort and quality of life and leave the rest up to the big guy upstairs.
That is all I can do.
We are excited about celebrating 2011. We have a lot of exciting plans. My honey turns 40 and I am throwing him a party. My hope for you all reading this is that your 2011 is healthy, fun, and happy.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
One year anniversary
One month ago yesterday was the one year mark of my husband's injury and also the anniversary of the death of his best friend and other friend that were in the hummer with him when the IED went off.
I see where he has made some progress- he has put on some weight, has thought of ideas for the future, has been doing PT like a fiend to help the remaining muscles in the leg he almost lost.
However I see where the memory seems to get worse (his is moderate TBI with PTSD and a side of severe pain)and his emotions are very close to the surface. The Neuropsych doctor we met with for the medical retirement process said that PTSD can also create issues with memory, that can appear to be PTSD symptoms.
Our 16th wedding anniversary was the 15th. I actually found out about his injury on our 15th anniversary. However he wanted to keep the 2 dates separate.
Yesterday a few people in his unit called, but he got mad and said,"They don't think about the loss of the guys or the attack until its that time of the year, but I have to look at my face in the mirror every day and every step I take, the pain reminds me of it every day." He was angry. I said,"You know, sometimes I wonder if you would have been better off losing the leg rather than keeping it as its all messed up and causes such pain." He said he wondered too, but I think he is better having it.
He agreed that being angry at the other guys wasn't reasonable, I think that is big progress. he said its not fair of him to criticize them.
Don't you all feel frustrated that life isn't the same, that all the other husbands and wives have easier lives, have no pain..and then I look over at my poor guy and he is suffering. It makes you wonder why luck works that way.
No doubt, I know there are way worse issues out there and worse problems, but am I the only wife that thinks,"Man, he is finally home, but he can't even sleep at night, can't walk without falling down, and feels responsible for the loss of his best friend." Kind of crappy.
We had hoped a year out from the blast things would have moved along better, he would have better recovery from his blood disorder (he is missing a ton of white blood cells so he doesn't have much of an immune system.)The doctors don't have any way to fix it and haven't really provided a real diagnosis.
There have been some silver linings - I got to retire from my stressful job and I get to home-school my son, which is a lot of fun. My family has had a lot of togetherness, which has been great.
So, chin up, enough of my pity party and on with the new.
I see where he has made some progress- he has put on some weight, has thought of ideas for the future, has been doing PT like a fiend to help the remaining muscles in the leg he almost lost.
However I see where the memory seems to get worse (his is moderate TBI with PTSD and a side of severe pain)and his emotions are very close to the surface. The Neuropsych doctor we met with for the medical retirement process said that PTSD can also create issues with memory, that can appear to be PTSD symptoms.
Our 16th wedding anniversary was the 15th. I actually found out about his injury on our 15th anniversary. However he wanted to keep the 2 dates separate.
Yesterday a few people in his unit called, but he got mad and said,"They don't think about the loss of the guys or the attack until its that time of the year, but I have to look at my face in the mirror every day and every step I take, the pain reminds me of it every day." He was angry. I said,"You know, sometimes I wonder if you would have been better off losing the leg rather than keeping it as its all messed up and causes such pain." He said he wondered too, but I think he is better having it.
He agreed that being angry at the other guys wasn't reasonable, I think that is big progress. he said its not fair of him to criticize them.
Don't you all feel frustrated that life isn't the same, that all the other husbands and wives have easier lives, have no pain..and then I look over at my poor guy and he is suffering. It makes you wonder why luck works that way.
No doubt, I know there are way worse issues out there and worse problems, but am I the only wife that thinks,"Man, he is finally home, but he can't even sleep at night, can't walk without falling down, and feels responsible for the loss of his best friend." Kind of crappy.
We had hoped a year out from the blast things would have moved along better, he would have better recovery from his blood disorder (he is missing a ton of white blood cells so he doesn't have much of an immune system.)The doctors don't have any way to fix it and haven't really provided a real diagnosis.
There have been some silver linings - I got to retire from my stressful job and I get to home-school my son, which is a lot of fun. My family has had a lot of togetherness, which has been great.
So, chin up, enough of my pity party and on with the new.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Today, we had a meeting (we are going through the initial doctors meetings for the med board) and we met with the Psychologist at MEB.
I learned a few things today about TBI vs PTSD.
I knew that both affect the concentration that a person can have. However, PTSD causes a memory deficit because the person's brain is trying its best to hide the memory from the person's conscious mind. The hiding can't disseminate what they are hiding, whether it is the last deployment memories, or what was on the grocery list.
In the cognitive tests they give, they will be able to figure out after what is TBI related and what is PTSD. To me, that is pretty cool that they can figure out the difference. The doc told me that therapy that forces the person to confront the bad memories helps them attach less and less emotion to them and eventually, it cures them of the PTSD.
My husband said he never wants to remember everything from the day of his blast. I don't blame him, I wouldn't want to remember a day in which I lost my best friend, lost another friend, and lost the way my life is as I used to know it.
However, I watch him beat himself up for not being able to remember simple things he said about 15 minutes prior, or forgetting the page in the book he just got finished reading. In actuality, we got the results back from the test and it turns out they couldn't tell him what was due to PTSD vs the TBI. They said it was all cognitive working memory. So at least everything else is ok. Now it will just take time and counseling.
I learned a few things today about TBI vs PTSD.
I knew that both affect the concentration that a person can have. However, PTSD causes a memory deficit because the person's brain is trying its best to hide the memory from the person's conscious mind. The hiding can't disseminate what they are hiding, whether it is the last deployment memories, or what was on the grocery list.
In the cognitive tests they give, they will be able to figure out after what is TBI related and what is PTSD. To me, that is pretty cool that they can figure out the difference. The doc told me that therapy that forces the person to confront the bad memories helps them attach less and less emotion to them and eventually, it cures them of the PTSD.
My husband said he never wants to remember everything from the day of his blast. I don't blame him, I wouldn't want to remember a day in which I lost my best friend, lost another friend, and lost the way my life is as I used to know it.
However, I watch him beat himself up for not being able to remember simple things he said about 15 minutes prior, or forgetting the page in the book he just got finished reading. In actuality, we got the results back from the test and it turns out they couldn't tell him what was due to PTSD vs the TBI. They said it was all cognitive working memory. So at least everything else is ok. Now it will just take time and counseling.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Happy Anniversary
It was October 15th, 2009. This was the day that would change our lives forever. I was at my best friend's house with my son and his friend, getting ready to go out and help throw a 40th birthday party for a co-worker of mine.
It was around 4pm on that Thursday when my cell phone rang. It was someone from Red Cross, calling to tell me that my husband and fellow team members were hurt by a roadside IED on the way back from a mission. I was totally shocked by the call. I can remember almost falling back onto the bed I was previously sitting on.
"Your husband has a broken leg and was intubated." What?? "What is really wrong? Why is he intubated? I don't have an MD by my name, but no one in God's name intubates for a broken leg." The voice on the other end of the line heard the panic and fear in my voice and said,"Ma'am, someone will call you from the medical team once he arrives to Landshtul." I said,"Ok."
I did not tell my son anything until I felt I had real tangible news. Every time my phone rang, it made my stomach hurt as I was on eggshells waiting for more information on my husband. I was the one in charge of my friends 40th, so I got dressed I swear I was on autopilot. I showed up, gave her the stuff I had picked up for her and the party goers. I left, went home, and threw up due to my nerves. I swear it felt like twelve hours that went by from that first phone call.
The phone rang, and it was a friend of my husbands. He was with him in Germany. He told me that he was looking right at CSF and he could see that all of his parts were still there. He said,"I am looking at his full naked splendor now." He gave me a bit more information on the injuries my husband sustained. It turns out when soldiers are hurt, they are stripped naked and put on gurneys and covered in blankets. When an IED or an RPG goes off, the person that is struck in the blast is covered with dirt. Over in Afghanistan, the dirt is like talc, so the wounded soldier looks like a statue replica, just with blood on it.
When soldiers are hurt in Afghanistan, they are stabilized at BAF (Bagrum Airforce Base),then flown to Landshtul, Germany where there is a great first class Army hospital. Once the soldier is worked on, assessed, and stabilized, they are flown to Bethesda, MD where Walter Reed hospital is. They re-fuel the plane and if the solider is meant to go back to Texas, they fly to BAMC (Brooke Army Medical Center), which is a damn good hospital.
During the time of waiting to get more information on my husband, I mentally thought of what to do with our son. He was enrolled in 7th grade and had a lot of pre-ap courses to take. On the date of the accident, my son had already attended a few months. I went in to work the next day (I worked as a technical saleswoman) and it was our end of quarter, which was a very intense time of year and also one that sets us up well lucratively if it is a good sales season. I had a few contracts at stake that I had put together and owned the relationship with the customers. I also had a few issues that had to be resolved. I focused on work until I got more information on when my husband was coming home as that was all I knew how to do. I told my son we would get things together once we knew timing and everything would fall into place. In my mind, I was trying to figure out what would we do with him?
On October 19, 2009, I received a phone call from the medical team updating me that Todd would be arriving by the medical helicopter. I was excited to finally get to see him, as he had been gone since January of 2009. I was worried at what his injuries would be like, but more importantly, it was him! He was finally going to be there.
It was around 4pm on that Thursday when my cell phone rang. It was someone from Red Cross, calling to tell me that my husband and fellow team members were hurt by a roadside IED on the way back from a mission. I was totally shocked by the call. I can remember almost falling back onto the bed I was previously sitting on.
"Your husband has a broken leg and was intubated." What?? "What is really wrong? Why is he intubated? I don't have an MD by my name, but no one in God's name intubates for a broken leg." The voice on the other end of the line heard the panic and fear in my voice and said,"Ma'am, someone will call you from the medical team once he arrives to Landshtul." I said,"Ok."
I did not tell my son anything until I felt I had real tangible news. Every time my phone rang, it made my stomach hurt as I was on eggshells waiting for more information on my husband. I was the one in charge of my friends 40th, so I got dressed I swear I was on autopilot. I showed up, gave her the stuff I had picked up for her and the party goers. I left, went home, and threw up due to my nerves. I swear it felt like twelve hours that went by from that first phone call.
The phone rang, and it was a friend of my husbands. He was with him in Germany. He told me that he was looking right at CSF and he could see that all of his parts were still there. He said,"I am looking at his full naked splendor now." He gave me a bit more information on the injuries my husband sustained. It turns out when soldiers are hurt, they are stripped naked and put on gurneys and covered in blankets. When an IED or an RPG goes off, the person that is struck in the blast is covered with dirt. Over in Afghanistan, the dirt is like talc, so the wounded soldier looks like a statue replica, just with blood on it.
When soldiers are hurt in Afghanistan, they are stabilized at BAF (Bagrum Airforce Base),then flown to Landshtul, Germany where there is a great first class Army hospital. Once the soldier is worked on, assessed, and stabilized, they are flown to Bethesda, MD where Walter Reed hospital is. They re-fuel the plane and if the solider is meant to go back to Texas, they fly to BAMC (Brooke Army Medical Center), which is a damn good hospital.
During the time of waiting to get more information on my husband, I mentally thought of what to do with our son. He was enrolled in 7th grade and had a lot of pre-ap courses to take. On the date of the accident, my son had already attended a few months. I went in to work the next day (I worked as a technical saleswoman) and it was our end of quarter, which was a very intense time of year and also one that sets us up well lucratively if it is a good sales season. I had a few contracts at stake that I had put together and owned the relationship with the customers. I also had a few issues that had to be resolved. I focused on work until I got more information on when my husband was coming home as that was all I knew how to do. I told my son we would get things together once we knew timing and everything would fall into place. In my mind, I was trying to figure out what would we do with him?
On October 19, 2009, I received a phone call from the medical team updating me that Todd would be arriving by the medical helicopter. I was excited to finally get to see him, as he had been gone since January of 2009. I was worried at what his injuries would be like, but more importantly, it was him! He was finally going to be there.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Weekend Warrior- NOT!
Many people think that the National Guard soldiers are just weekend warriors, meaning they just serve one weekend a month and that is it. My honey has spent many times a month doing some training, a 5-day drill where he can't come home at night, or gotten deployed to hurricane duty. The Guard is utilized heavily for all US disasters. Very little people know that they actually helped defend the US in WW2. During Hurricane Katrina, those Guard members unluckily stationed in New Orleans got shot at by some gang members who did not want to be evacuated during the flooding. They were not armed to protect themselves, which was very frustrating to the soldiers and to the family members that had to worry about their safety.
Well, after the first deployment, CSF had about a year to catch up at his regular career. He only got to spend maybe 5 months at it before he was recruited into another mission to train for. Even though he was in the US, and no more than 30 minutes from me, he was unavailable to us. Not a big deal, by then we were used to it and in my opinion, once you deal with a deployment in a war zone, being apart in the US is not a big blip on the radar. Sure, you get lonely and miss the guy, but you aren't worried he is going to get blown to bits on a convoy. Kind of like when I took him to buy his cruiser when he returned from Iraq. My friends at work asked,"Aren't you scared of him getting killed on that bike?" I said,"Once you deal with a soldier in a war zone where people are shooting at him every day, a motorcycle seems so benign."
So... after the 6 months of school he went to, he wasn't able to be released from his one unit to the other to go to Afghanistan with his friends. People he has fought with in Iraq, people he has trained day in and day out with that he trusts with his life. He was to remain with his main unit. Well, ironically, about 2 months later he gets notified that he is to go and get deployed with a different unit entirely, and this time using the skills he does in his civilian life. In fact it was his degree that got him recruited. So this came from the big wigs up high, and superseded the management at his unit. He had to go. Managerial pissing match lost!
It was comical. Kind of. In his mind it was a toss-up if it was better to request to get deployed with his team-mates and do the deployment in Afghanistan, or take his chances and possibly go to Iraq again with his main unit. He would be stuck there longer and with new people he hasn't trained with. Fate intervened and he got to be deployed in Afghanistan on a different mission, however it turned out his friends were not too far from where he was.
Well, after the first deployment, CSF had about a year to catch up at his regular career. He only got to spend maybe 5 months at it before he was recruited into another mission to train for. Even though he was in the US, and no more than 30 minutes from me, he was unavailable to us. Not a big deal, by then we were used to it and in my opinion, once you deal with a deployment in a war zone, being apart in the US is not a big blip on the radar. Sure, you get lonely and miss the guy, but you aren't worried he is going to get blown to bits on a convoy. Kind of like when I took him to buy his cruiser when he returned from Iraq. My friends at work asked,"Aren't you scared of him getting killed on that bike?" I said,"Once you deal with a soldier in a war zone where people are shooting at him every day, a motorcycle seems so benign."
So... after the 6 months of school he went to, he wasn't able to be released from his one unit to the other to go to Afghanistan with his friends. People he has fought with in Iraq, people he has trained day in and day out with that he trusts with his life. He was to remain with his main unit. Well, ironically, about 2 months later he gets notified that he is to go and get deployed with a different unit entirely, and this time using the skills he does in his civilian life. In fact it was his degree that got him recruited. So this came from the big wigs up high, and superseded the management at his unit. He had to go. Managerial pissing match lost!
It was comical. Kind of. In his mind it was a toss-up if it was better to request to get deployed with his team-mates and do the deployment in Afghanistan, or take his chances and possibly go to Iraq again with his main unit. He would be stuck there longer and with new people he hasn't trained with. Fate intervened and he got to be deployed in Afghanistan on a different mission, however it turned out his friends were not too far from where he was.
Monday, June 7, 2010
After AIT reality
After basic training came AIT, I think that stands for Advanced Individual Training. What it meant all in all, my honey was going to be gone for 9 months straight since they did AIT right after basic training without any visit or break in between. He had very little access to phones, was locked down in his barracks, couldn't have a cell phone.. it was very annoying as they treat the guys in AIT like idiots, much like what he got at basic.
After 9 agonizing months for him, he finally got to come home. We were so proud of him, he looked so amazing. The class A's were stunning, and the BDU's were sweet! Yay uniform fetish! LOL. Our son was so proud of his father and was so happy to have his dad home. During that whole time, my son and I were a continual, tight, unit and did not have any family coming over to help us.
About a month later, Todd gets the call that he needs to go to Soldier Readiness Processing and get ready to be shipped to Iraq. This was in 04-05.
Of course my honey (lets name him CSF for Chemical Super Freak), picked a dangerous MOS and he went over as a gunner and a driver and helped blow up weapons caches.
Not fun for me!!! Talk about something that sucks!
It wasn't a surprise he got fast forwarded to Iraq, as he joined during a time of war. He did it on purpose, he did not want to serve in some protected role. He wanted to be out there, with his .50 Cal, taking care of his guys and being vigilant and trying to keep our country safe. I was so proud of him. He did not join the guard to just get the benefits, wear the uniform, and not do anything in return.
I had a talk with our son, (let's dub him CSF Jr. since he is a chip off of the block of CSF) about CSF's timeline for deployment and what we could do to help him on the homefront and how we would be Team MamaCSF. This got him smiling as he is a can-do, thoughtful cute little guy. Back then he was 6.
I was working full-time, which means a bit over full-time, more like 50 hours a week. We have an old fixer-upper of a home, which we love. However, it needs care. LOL. So I always had something to do. Between taking care of our son, my job, the house, and the senior citizen dog we had back then, I was leveraged for time.
Unlike the fun and laid-back atmosphere of deployment that the media portrayed the war to be back then,CSF was not able to get on a computer daily. I was lucky to get an email from him bi-weekly. Download speeds were from another era gone by and accessibility was down. Heck, he barely could get to a phone. I think he called once every week and a half. Not enough for me to feel good.
I got smart though, I looked at the map of Iraq to see where he is and I showed mini CSF so he could learn more about world culture. I would look at the ATM debit card log and see the city where he was at. Kind of like "where's waldo."
One week there was more than the normal amount of bloodshed and I was worrying in overtime. CSF said,"Look at the color of the T-shirts under the uniform. If they are beige, then they are our guys. If not, its either Marines, Navy, or Air Force." I know it sounds sick, but I felt better when I wouldn't see beige shirts in the photos.
One day I saw CSF Jr. look upset as he is a bright cookie and was watching the news and they were talking about the area where his father was. I told him that his father would be safe, he is going to come home to us, and we had to pray for him every day. I told him no more news, as it makes us upset and we don't need that.
So I took the calendar, wrote down CSF's date to return, and daily we would cross off a day. I also planned a monthly weekend get away for us, just to help break up the monotony of the deployment. We had some fun adventures. We would go shopping and buy stuff that we could ship to his dad. ***If you call the Post Office and tell them you are Military, they will send you free shipping boxes, tape, etc. for free. Just an FYI for you.
Well, the year went by, he came home safe and all was well.
Sadly, the fourth of July he got to be a part of, was still pretty recent from when he returned as when the sounds of the fireworks went off, his hands were shaking really bad and it was all he could do to light our son's sparkler.
I noticed a bit of anxiety from the war. Freaking war. Made me cry, I tried to hide it from them both. I thought, here he is home with us, on a day of liberation and independence. A day of celebrating for Americans and my poor husband can't even light a sparkler due to the hit on his nerves for the past year of hostile fire.
His pupils were so huge, his heart was pounding, and his jaw was tightly clenched.
I grabbed his arm, said hey honey..lets go inside and get a drink. I hugged him, asked him if he was ok as I didn't want to call him out in front of everyone.
It helped. I know he saw some catastrophic shit over there, he never would tell me all that he saw. I told him that in time, he needed to talk about it or it would fester and cause him some issues.
I noticed him withdrawing a bit from us and he would go work in the study more than he used to. Part of it was he had a lot of stuff to catch up on, but honestly, I think he just needed to decompress away from us. It hurt my feelings at first, but then I really started to analyze what he was doing versus what he had experienced and talked to mini CSF about what to expect from his father after experiencing war.
It helped out a lot.
Within a few months after his return, CSF started to act like himself again. We really had fun incorporating him back into our weekly routine that we had developed when it was Team MamaCSF Jr. I noticed that is a huge area that our guys need help on. Some of them feel left out when they come back, that we can manage great without them, so what do we need them for? So I sat down with him and told him what Mini CSF and I were up to. We gelled, it worked out great and we had so much fun showing him what he did to the house. Our family was reunited again, and had gotten back into its usual dynamics between husband and wife, father and son. :-)
After 9 agonizing months for him, he finally got to come home. We were so proud of him, he looked so amazing. The class A's were stunning, and the BDU's were sweet! Yay uniform fetish! LOL. Our son was so proud of his father and was so happy to have his dad home. During that whole time, my son and I were a continual, tight, unit and did not have any family coming over to help us.
About a month later, Todd gets the call that he needs to go to Soldier Readiness Processing and get ready to be shipped to Iraq. This was in 04-05.
Of course my honey (lets name him CSF for Chemical Super Freak), picked a dangerous MOS and he went over as a gunner and a driver and helped blow up weapons caches.
Not fun for me!!! Talk about something that sucks!
It wasn't a surprise he got fast forwarded to Iraq, as he joined during a time of war. He did it on purpose, he did not want to serve in some protected role. He wanted to be out there, with his .50 Cal, taking care of his guys and being vigilant and trying to keep our country safe. I was so proud of him. He did not join the guard to just get the benefits, wear the uniform, and not do anything in return.
I had a talk with our son, (let's dub him CSF Jr. since he is a chip off of the block of CSF) about CSF's timeline for deployment and what we could do to help him on the homefront and how we would be Team MamaCSF. This got him smiling as he is a can-do, thoughtful cute little guy. Back then he was 6.
I was working full-time, which means a bit over full-time, more like 50 hours a week. We have an old fixer-upper of a home, which we love. However, it needs care. LOL. So I always had something to do. Between taking care of our son, my job, the house, and the senior citizen dog we had back then, I was leveraged for time.
Unlike the fun and laid-back atmosphere of deployment that the media portrayed the war to be back then,CSF was not able to get on a computer daily. I was lucky to get an email from him bi-weekly. Download speeds were from another era gone by and accessibility was down. Heck, he barely could get to a phone. I think he called once every week and a half. Not enough for me to feel good.
I got smart though, I looked at the map of Iraq to see where he is and I showed mini CSF so he could learn more about world culture. I would look at the ATM debit card log and see the city where he was at. Kind of like "where's waldo."
One week there was more than the normal amount of bloodshed and I was worrying in overtime. CSF said,"Look at the color of the T-shirts under the uniform. If they are beige, then they are our guys. If not, its either Marines, Navy, or Air Force." I know it sounds sick, but I felt better when I wouldn't see beige shirts in the photos.
One day I saw CSF Jr. look upset as he is a bright cookie and was watching the news and they were talking about the area where his father was. I told him that his father would be safe, he is going to come home to us, and we had to pray for him every day. I told him no more news, as it makes us upset and we don't need that.
So I took the calendar, wrote down CSF's date to return, and daily we would cross off a day. I also planned a monthly weekend get away for us, just to help break up the monotony of the deployment. We had some fun adventures. We would go shopping and buy stuff that we could ship to his dad. ***If you call the Post Office and tell them you are Military, they will send you free shipping boxes, tape, etc. for free. Just an FYI for you.
Well, the year went by, he came home safe and all was well.
Sadly, the fourth of July he got to be a part of, was still pretty recent from when he returned as when the sounds of the fireworks went off, his hands were shaking really bad and it was all he could do to light our son's sparkler.
I noticed a bit of anxiety from the war. Freaking war. Made me cry, I tried to hide it from them both. I thought, here he is home with us, on a day of liberation and independence. A day of celebrating for Americans and my poor husband can't even light a sparkler due to the hit on his nerves for the past year of hostile fire.
His pupils were so huge, his heart was pounding, and his jaw was tightly clenched.
I grabbed his arm, said hey honey..lets go inside and get a drink. I hugged him, asked him if he was ok as I didn't want to call him out in front of everyone.
It helped. I know he saw some catastrophic shit over there, he never would tell me all that he saw. I told him that in time, he needed to talk about it or it would fester and cause him some issues.
I noticed him withdrawing a bit from us and he would go work in the study more than he used to. Part of it was he had a lot of stuff to catch up on, but honestly, I think he just needed to decompress away from us. It hurt my feelings at first, but then I really started to analyze what he was doing versus what he had experienced and talked to mini CSF about what to expect from his father after experiencing war.
It helped out a lot.
Within a few months after his return, CSF started to act like himself again. We really had fun incorporating him back into our weekly routine that we had developed when it was Team MamaCSF Jr. I noticed that is a huge area that our guys need help on. Some of them feel left out when they come back, that we can manage great without them, so what do we need them for? So I sat down with him and told him what Mini CSF and I were up to. We gelled, it worked out great and we had so much fun showing him what he did to the house. Our family was reunited again, and had gotten back into its usual dynamics between husband and wife, father and son. :-)
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Beginning
I wasn't aware in 1994 that I would ever be a military wife. When I met my husband, he had always been civic-minded and very patriotic. He was a Chemistry and Physics teacher that had recently retired to get into working the chemical industry. Our family was in a car, enjoying a leisurely Sunday drive a few days after 9/11 happened.
My husband commented,"Here I am enjoying my freedom with my family, while our guys are dying in Iraq. I just feel like I need to do my part to keep that evil from invading our land and possibly hurting you or our son." He said he was thinking about joining the military to do his part. He asked me what I thought and I said he needed to do what he felt he had to do, and it was his choice and that I support him no matter what. Thus began his research into joining the National Guard.
A couple of weeks pass and he had a meeting set up with a recruiter.
He came home all excited from the meeting with the recruiter about the various benefits. With his classic sick sense of humor, he said, "Ooh they have death benefits so if I get killed, you will get $250,000." I said,"Very funny, but that would actually screw me out of some income as I expect you to at least live 'til 78 and what you would make as a chemist times 45 years of earning would definitely surpass that 250K. Plus, you are a much-needed fixture in our lives. I couldn't imagine it without you."
Did I mention he was only 34 at the time, without much cartilage or cushioning in the knee joints? Our son was maybe 6 at the time when his father left to go to basic training. Proudly, my 34-year-old husband kicked the butt of half the cheese-eating high school kids when it came to running and PT. He was so proud to tell me of his various accomplishments during the training. Plus, having been a high-school teacher, he was used to the tempers, testosterone, etc. that the younger privates were dealing with and the mind games the drill sergeants were using. It still sucked, but he made it through and his graduation was one of the proudest events for him.
He looked amazing in his Class A's. Damn, I love a man in uniform.
My husband commented,"Here I am enjoying my freedom with my family, while our guys are dying in Iraq. I just feel like I need to do my part to keep that evil from invading our land and possibly hurting you or our son." He said he was thinking about joining the military to do his part. He asked me what I thought and I said he needed to do what he felt he had to do, and it was his choice and that I support him no matter what. Thus began his research into joining the National Guard.
A couple of weeks pass and he had a meeting set up with a recruiter.
He came home all excited from the meeting with the recruiter about the various benefits. With his classic sick sense of humor, he said, "Ooh they have death benefits so if I get killed, you will get $250,000." I said,"Very funny, but that would actually screw me out of some income as I expect you to at least live 'til 78 and what you would make as a chemist times 45 years of earning would definitely surpass that 250K. Plus, you are a much-needed fixture in our lives. I couldn't imagine it without you."
Did I mention he was only 34 at the time, without much cartilage or cushioning in the knee joints? Our son was maybe 6 at the time when his father left to go to basic training. Proudly, my 34-year-old husband kicked the butt of half the cheese-eating high school kids when it came to running and PT. He was so proud to tell me of his various accomplishments during the training. Plus, having been a high-school teacher, he was used to the tempers, testosterone, etc. that the younger privates were dealing with and the mind games the drill sergeants were using. It still sucked, but he made it through and his graduation was one of the proudest events for him.
He looked amazing in his Class A's. Damn, I love a man in uniform.
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