Old Wounds, New Salt

 

Why does this have to be so hard?  I get it. It's a huge organization with an even bigger job of trying to care for all sorts of things for veterans, and there are going to be bureaucratic hurdles and paperwork beyond paperwork. But sometimes what you are asking us to do actually inflicts more harm. This should not be the case. 

I have filed a couple claims, one for my hearing loss and one for PTSD from a couple events aboard my ship. The hearing process was fluid, moved along, and was a solid experience. Now I am attempting to get care for these ears - like new hearing aids, and it seems the VA is now diving deep.  I am working to get set up on Community Care for what they're calling a "Primary Care" visit. Now, they already know it's a hearing issue, but it seems we need to do this primary care thing first. I called our local VSO and talked to them, and they concur with me that it's likely just a step in the process - and that the doctor will refer me to the hearing specialist I really want to see anyway.  

So we wait, fingers crossed that this is how it goes. We shall see. 

In the meantime, my claim regarding post-traumatic stress disorder is pending.  If you read this blog, you know that I have been seeing a counselor (a good one) at the local Vets Center. A couple weeks ago I wrote about how the VA had requested his notes from all my visits and his assessment of me.  My therapist, being a truly honorable guy, wanted me to read everything that was being sent to the VA and get my nod that it was really OK to share all that. There was A LOT in that report and while it brought back a lot to read where I was and revisit the process of how I got here, I said it was OK to send. 

I came home from the reunion to find a detailed letter from the VA asking me to verify my experiences and get corroboration statements from people I told about my experience over the last 30+ years. 

So not only does the VA want me to write a detailed story about each of these two events, but they also want to know who else knows, and what they know, and when I told them, just in case they may want to talk to them about me and my experience. 

But they also recognize how this may be sort of triggering and traumatizing - by stating if you feel this, way, or that way to call this number (the hotline).  So let me get this straight... you have all the info from the VetCenter therapist, and you have my basic statement on the claim (a few sentences) but now that I am where I am in dealing with this you want me to - stop - step back and recall all the shit that got me to where I was? How ****** up is that?   

I'll do it. I can do it. 

I'll do my best to do it and manage myself through doing it with hopefully as little impact as possible. But I have to say, I think this is wholly unfair. Why was there not space provided on the initial application forms for all this detail?  Ask for it then!  BEFORE we start the healing process. 

I am grateful for the counseling I've had thus far, I can't imagine the depths this process could take someone when they already find themselves so deep in a hole that they finally ask for help (and that takes a long time with veterans)... and then without any help, ask them to write in detail about the trauma that has turned their lives upside down. 

We could reduce the 22-a-day number with a much more caring process. 

Bureaucracy sucks.

The jury is still out on the VA. 

As they say in TV news... stay tuned.  

2023 Ship's Reunion

With our captain, Bary Burrow attending it was the largest reunion for USS Towers sailors in many years. 

I arrived at the end of day one and ran into the captain as he left the dinner in a nearby restaurant. 

Today marks one week since the handshake in the photo to the left. It was deeply emotional. This man turned a bunch of young sailors and old salts into one hell of a crew and when the time came to go places and face off with bad guys, we were the absolute best and knew we'd win any scenario we found ourselves in. Our time in the Persian Gulf had some smaller events unfold, but (sadly) it was mostly uneventful. 

While we were there, Captain Burrow tried his damnedest to first, get me in an officers program, and then simply keep me in the Navy. The Navy didn't have the options the younger me wanted and I left the greatest ship, crew, and Navy to become a civilian. 

Fast forward to 2023 and the sailors of the USS Towers are gathering in Bremerton, Washington. For the first time, the 1980's sailors are there in force. What a fantastic week. What's stunning is that other than our physical appearance (and fitness), no one has changed.  We are who were have always been, and for nearly forty years we've been shipmates.  For those who don't know a shipmate is pretty much a brother. Whether you like them or not is unimportant, we love each other like family. It comes from the shared experiences while underway and while exploring mysterious new places around the world. 

The reunion gave us all the opportunity to visit the USS Turner Joy, not exactly like Towers, but close enough that we all found ourselves telling even more stories.  Every direction we looked there was something familiar to touch and a dozen stories to go along with it. 

The week went by way too fast. The feeling while there is inexplicable, but I'll try; it's like a high, comfort and familiarity unlike anything else. 

And when it ends the group is huddled, still sharing stories in the hotel lobby. It seems like no one wants to leave. It literally takes hours to peel ourselves away. 

By my side, the entire time is my wife. I cannot say enough positive things about how she loves and supports me. She seems to get as much reward from the visits within the reunion as I do.  I love her so much for that - and for being the glue that keeps me together. 

When we get home, the world flips. Back to work is always a post-vacation hurdle for everyone, but this is different. Flung back into the everyday work relationships that are seen as so close, and bonded - they suddenly feel less-than and somewhat hollow. Do we really have each other's back like we say? Because when I compare it to the bond I have with those shipmates, it comes up short.  That's not to say we don't care about each other (a lot) in this civilian workplace, but it is far from that battle-ready bond that affects a warship's crew for life. Which is sad. So sad that I can't help but shed some tears. My shipmates and I went through a lot.  

So now I ask myself why I am going through these hollow motions and not living life, breathing it in,  traveling, and having new experiences?  After all, I am now sixty years old. The proverbial clock is ticking. Loudly. Why am I giving so much of myself to others and other efforts (that I volunteer with), when it doesn't resonate with me the way this other experience does.  

The only other experience that resonates this way is with my wife and sons. 

There it is.  The difference.

The bonds of family, whether by blood, love, or service - bind for life.