PTSD and the VA: A Story of Fact

In the Spring of 1993, I moved from Northern Minnesota to Grand Junction, Colorado. The move was to a different climate and a change of scenery and we thought we’d try the mountains; thought the fresh start would help us cope with the loss of our daughter-we were running from something. I had suffered a mild heart attack in winter of ‘93 and I didn’t think I should stay on and continue the job I was doing. I got a clean bill of health from the Cardiologist and packed up the truck and moved. When I got situated in Grand Junction, I met a man with a nephew who had gotten money from the VA for PTSD. I didn’t really know what PTSD was, but when I got an explanation and did some research, I found out that many of the symptoms associated with PTSD and returning Vietnam War Veterans, had manifested a foothold in my own life.

This guy told me that if I went to the VA hospital and told them that I wanted to be tested for PTSD, the VA would accommodate me and test me.Now, I was interested in getting money for a condition- if that condition existed in me, and I wanted to get a monthly check and get some help with the road to recovery. Up to this point, I had already had numerous jobs and was a wayfarer when it came to staying in one spot and affording stability to my family. We saved no money even though I’ve had some good paying jobs. The lifestyle of running away from your mind, a PTSD hallmark, was not conducive to financial stability in the family. Money from the Government would be welcomed. I went to the VA hospital in Grand Junction and went to the front desk. I asked to see a case worker, as that is what the guy told me his nephew did. I did see a case worker and told this worker that I had PTSD from the war and wanted help. I was given an appointment with a psychologist. The psychologist talked to me for a time and I left with two prescriptions- one for anxiety and one for depression. I know I was taking something called BuSpar. I don’t remember the other drug he gave me. I had a Harley Davidson motorcycle in those days- a model called a Fat Boy. It was my gift to myself after my daughter was killed in a car accident. I got a lot of contemplation time while riding in the Western Colorado mountains. When I started the medication, I got higher than the proverbial kite. I felt like I was stoned all the time. I had a hard time riding my motorcycle, and alcohol really fucked me up. I won’t say I wasn’t warned about drinking alcohol while taking this medication, but I don’t remember much except to ‘take these pills and I’ll see you in a couple of months.’

I stopped taking the drugs quickly, but in the meantime, I was given another appointment with the shrink and then I had an appointment with another doctor. This other doctor was going to give me what is called a C & P exam, a Compensation and Pension examination to determine how severe my PTSD was. The outcome of this exam would be the cornerstone for my disability claim against the VA for PTSD and service connected disability. Remember, in all of this is the gathering of paperwork- proving I am indeed a Veteran; a discharge form that is given to all Veterans; the DD 214, and other forms of I.D.- I had to send for, sign and return Release of Information forms from all hospitals where I received services for anything. I had to fill out numerous reports which chronicled my everyday living situation and activities, and where I had worked and lived.

I was told that I proved nothing to the VA as far as PTSD was concerned and that I had a personality disorder. It was reported that I was given medication and refused treatment. It was reported that I didn’t identify a stressor, an event that would cause PTSD. It was reported that my claim would be denied based on these factual findings. Case closed, unless I appealed. I had no idea how to negotiate the battle field of VA benefits and no direction to the organizations that existed that did. I let the matter drop.

In 1994, I moved back to Minnesota and lived in Duluth. Before I moved, I had another heart attack. This time, they did no open heart surgery or Angioplasty as they did in the past episodes. They let me lay in a hospital bed and did no intervention. I lost heart muscle tissue that died as a result and my stamina and everyday being was altered. In Duluth, I did apply for Social Security benefits. I was still too ill to work as I recovered from the last heart episode. I was refused Social Security benefits and I did not appeal that decision either. I eventually got better and went back to work in a few months. I didn’t pursue any VA benefits or Social Security benefits for many years. But in 1999, I started to feel poorly again. Mostly mentally, but also physically. I was told I have Diabetes. I went to the VA as I didn’t have health care. The VA said they could take care of me since I was a Veteran, but I’d have to prove to them I was indigent and had no other health care. I filled out a form called a Means Test. This form listed your net worth and the VA used this information to determine if you had to pay for medical services and how much on a sliding fee scale. All of thiswas going on while I’m tried to hold down a job and deal with physical and mental limitations. When I went to the VA hospital, it was because I needed a doctor. I wasn’t looking for, or opening up, a claim for benefits. The VA did determine that I was eligible, based on my income, for health care at the VA facility. I was given care and doctors appointments. I also talked with other Veterans about PTSD and the benefit system. I was told to go to a Veterans Service Officer in the County where I lived as every County has one. They are there to help with issues dealing with the VA. I learned over the years that not all VSO’s are equal, and some just outright do nothing but shuffle the appropriate form to the VA on your behalf.

My claim went nowhere. I was refused immediately. But this time, I filed a timely appeal and made a plan. I made an appointment with a private doctor, one that specialized in PTSD. I went to this appointment, which I paid for out of my own pocket at over a hundred bucks a pop. I asked her in a straight forward manner, “I want to know if I suffer from PTSD from my service in the Vietnam war.” She had me do some tests and a couple of interviews. She stopped me after the second visit and told me that I needed more help than she could give me. She wrote a letter to the VA, and sent one to me as well, stating that I indeed suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the onset had much to do with serving as a combat infantryman in Vietnam.

This letter was routinely added to my file, but it did give me the information I needed to go forward with my claim for benefits. You see, if I didn’t have PTSD, I wouldn’t apply for benefits. The VA was reluctant to identify what was happening to me, as they gave no diagnosis. They just gave me more anxiety medication and antidepressants. All of which I didn’t take when I found out the side effects and interactions. Remember, I am already on a regimen of heart and diabetes medication and interactions were common. The more I studied about the drugs, the less I wanted to take them. Being a zombie was not an option. I refused yet again to take medication for my PTSD symptoms, which are or can be: anxiety, depression, despair, hopelessness, reoccurring anger, self-blame, guilt, and shame, as well as sexual dysfunction, compulsive or aggressive behaviors, sleep disorders, and concentration problems, flashbacks, nightmares, intrusive memories and exaggerated emotional and physical reactions to triggers that remind the person of the trauma, emotional numbing, feeling detached, lack of emotions (especially positive ones), loss of interest in activities, avoiding activities, people, or places that remind the person of the trauma, difficulty sleeping and concentrating, irritability, hypervigilance (being on guard), and exaggerated startle response.

Now that was a mouthful, and not every Veteran suffers from every one of these things, but bits and pieces of them all creep into your life, and some are right there, up front, all the time, and you are powerless to deal with them. The self medicating Veteran will seek to change the reality of this pain and turn to drugs, alcohol, gambling, pornography or generally try to change their conscious reality by running away from life. That might explain the moving 52 times, last time I checked, and the 78 different W-2’s, don’t ya think?

So now I’m on meds I wasn’t taking, and my claim was open and into appeal. I had a genuine doctor that said I do indeed suffer from PTSD. It was time now for another C & P exam, this time in Minneapolis at the VA hospital there. I go to this appointment with much trepidation. After my last experience, I was a skeptic to say the least. This doctor was older than the last one that “examined” me. This doctor looked confused and said so right up front. She told me that she had to get some clarification on a few things and that I’d have to reschedule this C & P exam. Keep in mind, the time between appointments is months. The waiting wears you down. Many give up their rights to benefits as they can’t endure the waiting and the bullshit. This was bullshit and I asserted myself and told this doctor that there was no way I was going to wait for months again and that I was anxious and now curious that there was a problem. After all, she’s looking at my chart of sorts, and that the nature of the PTSD demands that I not be turned away.

She agreed and told me that in my last C & P exam, in 1994 in Grand Junction, CO, the doctor said I didn’t identify a stressor. This doctor told me that when she read my DD 214, (remember, that form?), the 214 stated that I was a Sergeant in an infantry unit and that I was awarded a Combat Infantry Badge, Two Bronze Stars and an Army Commendation medal. She said that there is nothing I have to add to this resume that would identify the fact that I had seen the war up close and personal and that she was sure that I had, indeed, suffered trauma on the field of battle. She went on and said that she didn’t understand why the other doctor didn’t identify these things. She wrote her report and the VA, after months of waiting, awarded me a disability determination. But they were stingy and only awarded me 50%. In the meantime, I had ditched the Veterans Service Officer from Ramsey County, MN. I also dismissed the VFW Power of Attorney I was advised to get. The Power of Attorney is the organization that is suppose to have their finger on the pulse of your claim and act as a go between to help decipher the legalese of the communications that are sent to the Veteran by the VA.

A friend of mine had a friend who was the Commander of the Order of the Purple Heart. This man convinced me that I needed a proper Power of Attorney that would work for me. He convinced me to appeal and go for more. He told me that as i aged, it would get worse and I would need the income and that I should do it for my wife and family as well as myself. It was another Veteran, another friend of a friend, who took me literally by the hand to the Federal Building in St. Paul and made me get the Disabled American Veterans, DAV, organization to be my Power of Attorney. It was after that when things started to move along quickly and results and understandable communication was available to me. These other organizations, in my case, did nothing but once again shuffle the paper. The DAV met with me and offered advice and regular updates;they contacted the Benefits division of the VA and asked about the progress of my appealed claim;they fought for my benefits on my behalf. I finally had communication and someone to ask questions and get answers, but the time still dragged on. I went to work, but in June of 2001 I ended up in a hospital emergency room with stress related angina. I wrote a letter to the VA and finally spoke up for myself. I asked them, what did they expect me to do if work causes me to have heart pain? What did they want from me? I had proved to them I had PTSD and Diabetes, proven by the VA themselves to be caused by exposure to Agent Orange, and that I needed the disability benefit to survive and provide for my family. I proved that I had been exposed to trauma to a high degree. Still no results.

My trump card was played in July of 2001 with a letter to a Senator from Minnesota that fought for Veterans rights and benefits as no other before him or since, Senator Paul Wellstone. In August of 2001, I was awarded a total and permanent disability from the VA at the level of 100%. That meant a lot of things. It meant I would receive a check every month. Well, that’s what it means. A check. And that I can continue to get health care at any VA medical facility without charge. I wouldn’t even have to pay the copay anymore for drugs and I’d be able to use the VA dentist. I should have written to the good Senator earlier on. The process lasted from March of 1993 to August of 2001, eight and a half years of battle lines drawn between me the VA. A far cry from the words we were told when they drafted us, that is, “You’ll never have to pay for health care for the rest of your life.”

After five years, I received a letter and a form to fill out. They asked me if I had worked and gotten paid for any work since I was awarded the disability compensation. I filled out the form telling them that I had not earned any money. It has been a little over six years since I have been receiving benefits from the VA for PTSD. I am not told of programs or treatments. I must seek them out for myself. That means going to the VA mental health department and be plugged in to a program. There are some good things, but getting through the mud and mire of the VA takes a lot of work and stamina. I’m not up to it on a regular basis. I am still chided for refusing the medication they prescribe for anxiety and depression. Four different times I was prescribed drugs for these symptoms. I fight these two symptoms with my own spirituality now. I found this to be better than the drugs and although I am not cured, I am on a path of healing and things are better than they were. I do get sleeping pills and that helped for a while. Another symptom of the PTSD is the fact that I don’t usually get more than 3-4 hours of sleep at a time. Look at the posting time of my comments on your blogs and you’ll see what I mean. But I recently found that the sleeping pills were causing me to experience a shortness of breath and a tired feeling in the middle of the day, pretty much rendering me an old man and not my usual self. I still have the symptoms. They are manageable to a degree, and I am not such a burden on my family. I feel bad about all the friends I’ve lost along this road. I let some great relationships get away, and I quit some fabulous jobs, but I cherish those that have remained or I have found on this path of recovery. I don’t drink or smoke dope to cope with life any more. I don’t run away, but I admit I like to travel and harbor the fantasy of life on the open road. I am troubled with gambling a bit, but working on it. All in all, things are better and I understand so much of why I think the way I do. I haven’t pulled a gun and threatened a lousy driver on the highway in years, and I don’t carry anger and hate with me everywhere I go.

After all these years, I’ll tell you the stressor. There were many, but this one haunts me still. I held the body of a combat brother in my arms at the time of his death. This Saturday, I will attend a service honoring the fallen soldiers of the small South Carolina community of Clark’s Hill, population 363. I will bring that man’s spirit back to his family and rid myself of the burden of having carried it for almost 38 years to the day. He was killed on December 3, 1969 and I was there, with him, when he left this world.

I will be honored to be in attendance at the Bethany Baptist Church in Clark’s Hill. I’ll meet some of his relatives and friends. I’ll speak at the podium and tell these people that he is home now. And I will gobble up the food in the dining hall after the service. Maybe I’ll learn about how to make some southern style food.

Peace to All.

tags:vietnam veterans, vietnam PTSD, veterans hospital system, war wounds, veterans affairs