Thank You Video

When Bryan arrived in Landstuhl, Germany after he was blown up, I knew he was in good hands. I received frequent updates and the nurses even allowed me to talk to Bryan after he was off life support. Even though we only spoke maybe a minute before he got sick, it eased my mind to hear his voice.

I tried to find a way to send a thank you note to the nurses once he arrived at Walter Reed, but I couldn't figure out who they were.

Here a video that we filmed in NY after a fun day of skiing. Finally we get to thank the selfless nurses that take care of our Nation's wounded warriors. We are so thankful to all the nurses active in his recovery.

The Beauty of Surrender

Sometimes you have to give up to receive the most precious things in life.

In December we did our last round of infertility medications. I spent a little time grieving the loss of a child I never had. Bryan didn’t know how to help and I didn’t know how to voice what I was feeling. Bryan did an excellent job of being emotionally available and a listening ear. That was a huge accomplishment for him as he had become so emotionally vacant after being wounded.

We were going to move on … but I didn’t know to how at first.

I resolved pretty quickly to being childless. We were already abnormal in the civilian world because of his injuries and now we didn’t have children. The question that everyone asks, “Do you have kids?” became more and more painful to answer. I just started telling the truth.

“We can’t have kids.”

I started making big plans for 2013. I made plans to see friends, went skiing and booked a very adventurous trip to Costa Rica. I hid everyone on Facebook that was pregnant so I wouldn’t be painfully reminded of how I can’t have one of my own.

I knew I was going to move on. I always had and would continue to do so with grace and humility. Because of infertility, I was thankful for what I learned about my marriage, my friends and myself. If I had to experience infertility at least I could help others by sharing my story.

And then came the news we were almost too afraid to hope for. 

Our baby is due September, 2013.

Below is a video of our journey through infertility.

Who is going to help our warriors with PTSD?

                                                 Image via http://www.personal.psu.edu/

Over the weekend, we all heard the tragic news of Navy SEAL Chris Kyle and his friend Chad Littlefield being shot point blank while trying to help a veteran with PTSD. My mind is reeling trying to figure out why this happened. Why was the sniper with the most confirmed kills, and a bounty over his head from the Taliban, killed in this manner? He was on home turf and trying to help out a fellow veteran.

I can’t answer why this happened. But I can state my fears and concerns about it.

Because of this event, people may be terrified to help our wounded warriors suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Our warriors who suffer with this condition have a hard enough time making friends, fitting into society and coping. Will they be even more isolated because of incidents like these? Will people be afraid to offer help or a listening ear?

I think for some the answer is ‘yes.’ The media doesn’t help when they portray these warriors as monsters. Because of this, warriors that ask for help don’t get it or get arrested if they call 911.

Will our warriors be afraid to ask for help if they are feeling homicidal or suicidal because the media and mainstream America thinks they are crazy? Why isn’t there more help for those suffering with PTSD? Non-profits are trying to help bridge the gap where the military and the VA may be lacking, but it isn’t enough.

I will never forget how we had to seek counseling after Bryan was released from in-patient care at Walter Reed. I thought it would be automatic that, after talking to a counselor when he was lying in a hospital bed, he would continue after he was discharged. It wasn’t easy to find the counselor we saw and she didn’t usually see outpatient warriors. I am glad I had her card and that we pursued consistent counseling once he got out.

What happens to those that come home with their unit? How do they get the courage to ask for help? How long is the waiting list to see a therapist?

While my husband suffered a long time with his PTSD, we were proactive about getting the right treatment to make him successful. Violence was never accepted in this house and if he was feeling overly angry he would walk out of the room.

There were times I did the wrong things. It was hard seeing him completely numb and void of emotion and I would press him for his feelings. This was the wrong thing to do.  At times I had to sit and wait for him to come to me to share his feelings or ask for help. For someone that is a social worker, and always trying to find solutions, this didn’t bode well for me. However, I knew his limits and waited.

It took years of therapy and doctor’s appointments to find the right dose of medication to help. But we didn’t give up. I am sure many do because it is such a long process and very hard to get help. If warriors don’t have an advocate or cheerleader to guide them through the process, their care just falls to the wayside.

I hope and pray that the media doesn’t paint the picture that veterans with PTSD are monsters. How can the military train them to fight and kill the enemy and expect them to be normal once they’ve hit American soil? It is impossible. War comes with consequences. We have to be ready to help and not chastise them for needing it.

“People tell me I saved hundreds and hundreds of people. But I have to tell you: it’s not the people you saved that you remember. It’s the ones you couldn’t save. Those are the ones you talk about. Those are the faces and situations that stay with you forever.” Chris Kyle, Rest in Peace 

Role Reversal

Bryan deployed only six months after we started dating. I imagine he was the most spoiled soldier at war because I sent him hundreds of letters and care packages. I took care of his every need and request. His second deployment required less care packages and letters but he still got everything he needed from me. Then, when he was blown up, I was in a full-blown caregiving role for years.

It has taken its toll on my mental, emotional and physical health.

In September, we were sitting in the hospital before my laparoscopy for endometriosis. I was calm and peaceful. I was ready to figure out what was going on and was hopeful that I would get pregnant soon after the procedure.

Bryan said he was really nervous about my surgery. Despite having three strong anti-nausea medications I was still very sick after surgery. He had to wait on me hand and foot. I didn’t like the role reversal but it was nice to see him step up to the plate and do it with ease.

We tried one round of oral medications after my laparoscopy and I didn’t get pregnant. We decided to step it up a notch and spend thousands on injectable medications. Bryan had to pop me with 12 injections over 12 days. It hurt but I was thankful that he was courageous enough to stick me, even though his shaky hands caused me to get stuck twice with the same needle. I hate needles and couldn’t do it myself. Once again it felt odd for him to care for my medical needs.

Unfortunately we didn’t get pregnant again. There was the possibility that all the medical interventions would result in five babies, due the large amount of eggs produced, but instead, we got zero.

I have decided to stop treatment. It was taking a toll on my emotional and mental well-being. I was stressed, depressed, throwing money away for something that wasn’t working and disheartened. Bryan had to pick up my crumbling pieces. Bryan had to wipe away my flowing tears and tell me that things were going to be OK. I needed him to care for me and he did it effortlessly.

I often times wonder why this is happening to us after all we have been through but it has given me more compassion and understanding for a whole new set of people. I’ve made friendships because of my infertility. I can understand loss and grieving more deeply. I can advocate and learn from those that can’t have children.

I am probably having another surgery by a specialist in Atlanta as soon as I can convince TRICARE that I need it. Unfortunately, the surgeon is out of network so I have to pay his fees. Infertility is robbing us financially, again. However, it will be worth it if I can get my quality of life back.

My end goal of this surgery isn’t to have children but to be healthy again. Bryan will have to take care of me and I will have to allow it. I learned the first time to let others care for me. It is hard for a caregiver to let others do things to help, but it’s necessary.

I do have to say that I am closer to my husband than I have ever been because of this struggle. I have realized which friends care and which don’t. I feel like a dark black cloud is no longer raining on my head since I stopped treatment and I am planning some really wonderful things for this year.

We will conquer and win over this challenge too.

When Reality Slaps You In The Face…Again

Most days I try to not think about the fact that Bryan was injured. We go about our days and, for the most part, I am not starkly reminded that he is wounded. The adaptations we made for his injury have become routine. Now, we don’t even think about the fact that we rearrange our daily life to make it easier on him.

Every now and then I see the scars on his legs and am quickly reminded of that horrible day he was injured. Often, walking the dogs in the evening is too painful for him after a long day’s work. While these moments aren’t a huge deal, they are a slight reminder of where we have been.

At times though, I feel like I am being slapped in the face by his injuries.

A few months ago, we attended a wounded warrior event in West Virginia. We were around people that understood and that is always comforting. At events like this, I am reminded of how far he has come but, at the same time, I sometimes feel he hasn’t progressed as much as I thought. That reality can feel like a giant slap.

During the event, we went to a loud Italian restaurant and were sitting at a double-sided bar so we could fit all the warriors and their spouses at the table. Everyone else was engrossed in conversation but my husband was staring at a football game on TV. He doesn’t even watch football so I knew the noise and conversations were just too much. He wasn’t participating and it feels pretty awkward when he isn’t talking and everyone else is.

All these other guys were doing so well, talking with others. The fact that they are all wounded probably made conversation easier. Bryan, however, was just zoned out. I tried to not focus on it and continued speaking with old and new friends.

He has progressed enough to the point where he can sit in a restaurant, and that is great. Previously, he would have sat there with a look of panic on his face. I am grateful for the progress he has made.

But in those moments of obvious disconnect, when the injuries take over, I am bluntly reminded that our life will never be the same.

Dole Foundation Fellowship

I was invited to attend a fellowship with Sen. Elizabeth Dole in Washington D.C. several weeks ago. It was an opportunity to share the experiences and needs of Wounded Warrior caregivers with Sen. Dole and her colleagues. The difficulties of being a caregiver are not unknown to her. Sen. Bob Dole received two Purple Hearts in WWII. Sen. Elizabeth Dole knows first-hand what it feels like to be a caregiver.

We entered the JP Morgan board room on a rainy Tuesday morning for breakfast and there to greet us was Sen. Dole. She was wearing a beautiful emerald green suit and was smiling from ear to ear. I was taken aback by her warm and inviting presence. She hugged and kissed every single one of us. Twenty caregivers were invited and we were excited to see what the day held.

Sen. Dole’s introduction included her astounding list of accomplishments. I hung on her every word. Her numerous policy-changing accomplishments inspire me. Then each of the caregivers shared a bit of our stories. Sen. Dole let her tears flow freely as she was moved by each story.

After our introductions we headed to the National Press Club for lunch. I was seated next to the director of the VA’s caregiver program. It was nice to chat with her and get more information to help the ladies I work with. After a delicious lunch we left for the RAND Corporation where they would film our stories for the Dole Foundation website. I was thoroughly impressed with how articulate and open the caregivers were as they shared their stories. Every story is so unique and empowering.

The final task for the day was to do a 90-minute research study with the RAND Corporation regarding the needs of caregivers. The ten caregivers in the room were able to express the needs we have, explain which programs work and which do not and share what we need done in the future to help us. It is an amazing feeling to have them ask us, the caregivers that live with Wounded Warriors every day, what we need. It was the first time we felt we were heard without begging and pleading for someone to listen first.

That evening we were taken by bus to visit our nation’s monuments, complete with servings of champagne and chocolate. We had so much fun chatting and visiting the beautiful monuments. D.C. at night is enchanting and, at times, haunting. Sen. Dole strolled through World War II monument with us. We were told that her and her husband visit the monument many Saturday’s throughout the year. I was blessed with the opportunity to take a photo with her in front of the Freedom Wall.

The goal of the Dole Foundation is to establish grants for organizations to use to meet the needs of caregivers of Wounded Warriors. I am incredibly honored to be a part of the fellowship and I can’t wait to see what will come of this in the future. It is nice to be heard and recognized for our sacrifices too.

Caring for a Caregiver

I had laparoscopic surgery last week as part of my infertility treatment. What they found was stage two endometriosis and two cysts on my fallopian tubes. I wasn’t nervous before the surgery but Bryan said he was. I was on three different anti-nausea medications but the anesthesia still made me very sick. Bryan did a wonderful job of caring for me through the weekend. I usually heal rather quickly so I thought this was going to be easy.
Monday, I was off the pain medications and ready to start moving around. By Tuesday, I was in horrible and constant pain. Bryan had to return to work and I continued to grow worse instead of better. Yesterday, I returned to my doctor to have an ultrasound and blood work done. When my doctor pressed on my left side I nearly jumped off the table. My white blood count is slightly elevated but I still don’t know why I am in so much pain. He said he could have nicked something but won’t get a CT until we get all the results back.

I think that since I have been a caregiver for many years now, I would learn to take my own advice. I was always telling Bryan to take it easy, take your pain medications and rest. However, when you are a caregiver there is no time for rest. At the moment, my house is covered in dog hair, there is no food in my fridge and my husband has ordered us pizza three times this week.

I need to go to the grocery but standing up for more than five minutes is painful. If I send Bryan he will end up with nothing on the list and a bunch of sweets.  I have slept so much in the last week that I barely know what day it is. I frankly don’t have time for this. My work has been put on the back burner. I don’t want to ask anyone for help as they have busy lives too.

As a caregiver, wife and employee I just don’t have time to be down. I am not recovering like I should from this surgery. I often wonder why I am the exception to the rule. I am thankful that I have a diagnosis but I may have to undergo these surgeries every year now. Bryan doesn’t really know what to do so he goes to the basement when he gets home and I call him if I need something.

How do you handle being out of your normal role to care for yourself when your warrior needs help with things too?