My last stay in a pysch facility, they didnt have any beds in my ward (emotion and mood disorders) so they put me on another ward, in a different wing. this ward was specifically for War Vets with PTSD and addictions and depression as a result of being in combat. I always stay at the same pysch facility, i am blessed to have such a great hospital nearby- its private, and costs a pretty penny, but my health insurance covers it. i admit myself when its time to quit one med and start another.
Anyway- there is me, the only female, in a ward with these grizzled old men who swore like sailors and chainsmoked and were total characters. about a week into my stay, a bed became available in 'my' ward and i chose not to move. I stayed with the Vets, who turned out to be the coolest, most caring people ever. They took me under their wing and were very protective of me- if i walked into the communal lounge, one of them would yell "watch your language, we have a lady in the room, boys!". they told the best jokes and included me, which must have been odd for them- a young female with limited knowledge of what these men really went through.
So i asked, and they told me. They told me of their physical injuries (several were amputees), they told me about broken marriages, substance abuse, watching mates die- how they felt upon arrival home, the poor reception they got etc.
all these men did was serve their country as very young men. they fought so that my generation didnt have to. and all they got was a lousy case of PTSD in return. on the exterior these men seemed pretty tough, but the more time i spent with them, the more i realised what a raw deal these fine gentlemen had got. and just how incredibly kind they were.
if i needed to talk, they always made sure that one of them was there for me. they laughed at me getting up in the morning for 'breakfast meds' in my Ugg boots and boxer shorts- i think they expected a floral nightie... so not me! if we were watching TV they always asked me if i was happy with what they were watching, was it appropriate, or was it too much sport? they supported me as i quit smoking in there. they invited me to play cards, checkers and bingo with them. They were so special.
Many nights i woke to their screams- they all agreed that they had that in common- the nightmares. they sounded tortured, terrified, pained. It hurt me to hear them- its so awful when you cant even be in peace when you sleep. so many of them would stay up all hours, putting bed off, putting off their visitations to hell. all the sleeping pills in the world didnt seem to protect them from the past.
So the point of this post is to thank these men- (roughly in their '60s, mostly vietnam vets) who took a young woman under their wing, educated her, taught her life lessons, shared their heartbreak. i am privileged beyond words and hold a tremendous amount of respect for any Vets. i was there 5 weeks- some cried when i left, and in turn, i cried when some of them left.
They treated me so amazingly at a time that i was so fragile.
'He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.' (Psalm 147:3)
Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, CFS, Fibromyalgia, TMJ disorder, Endometriosis, PCOD, Chronic E.N.T infections, Reactive Arthritis, GERD, Sinusitis, IBS, Allergies, Glandular fever, Migraines, Anemia, Chemical/Noise/Light sensitivity, Trichotilomania, PTSD, Seasonal Mood Disorder, OCD, Benign Vertigo, Impaired immune system. Tachycardia, tinnitus, low clotting factor= bruising. Tendonitis, Bursitis.
Meds: Zoloft 150mg. Xanax 4mg. Celebrex. Mobic. Panadeine Forte. Digesic.
Multiple surgeries- I bear the scars of my poor physical health.
Age:28. First diagnosed at 14. Proud Aussie.