Drive Them to the Edge, then Hand them the Razorblade
I am a wounded soldier. Like many, I cannot take care of myself yet. It took me a long time to admit this to myself let alone acknowledge that I was no longer the man I was before I left. I walk with a cane now although my doctor still feels that I should use a walker. We made a compromise on a four post cane. I have a traumatic brain injury which sadly means that I there are times that I no longer can remember the names and faces of my friends and family. Sadly, my wife of eight years sometimes looks into the eyes of a man who doesn't know her and is lost in his own house. I get confused but I am better than I was 3 years ago. I speak clearer and can form thought and bring them out without stuttering often and I rarely slur except when I have a headache. But I am still a prisoner of my own house. I don't leave except to go to the doctors and have to even take vitamin D because of the lack of sunlight. I am on pain medication in order to stand, sit, sleep, walk, and anything else because my back is destroyed. I have memory loss, and the memories that am getting back are that of my last 5 campaigns which makes them feel that Post traumatic stress is right up my alley. I hate crowds, dislike being around people and always look for a way out or a way to neutralize any threats. During the bad periods when I am plagued with seizures and migraines, I get more depressed than normal although I always grin and bear it, for the sake of the wife and kids. Thankfully, I'm not yelling as much, but you never know when you can hit a bad spot. I am still relearning my emotions so I laugh when I shouldn't, cry too much, and blow up for no apparent reason.
When I had a surgery at St. Joseph Regional Medical Center in Lewiston, Idaho, I had to update my living will there. A Priest came in and asked me if I had wanted to have a living will just in case something went wrong and we went ahead and went through the paper work how I wanted it. We didn't talk about religion, he just went through the paperwork and asked my thoughts and asked if I wanted my wife's input, which I had her do a lot because this is not a decision just for me. There was no stress, no pressure. Simple facts, yes or no.
The VA implemented a pamphlet especially for people like me, with the top priority being injured soldiers. They had tried to implement it in 2007 but it was pulled because quite frankly, we refer to it as the suicide pamphlet. It too is just a simple counseling, like the one I had before my neck surgery, but instead is degrading. Veterans that read this desire to put a gun to their head because that is how it makes you feel. The pamphlet is called "Your Life, Your Choices" and was written apparently to ease the burden of VA medical care by increasing suicide rates among wounded Veterans. I know that I had the desire because the pamphlet that is given out lists our common injuries and places them as a possibility for the category "Life Would Not Be Worth Living." Such things as "I no longer contribute to my family's well being" is the general consensus among anybody who has to be taken care of, regardless if we are still drawing income. "I am in severe pain all the time, I can no longer get outside—I spend all day at home, I can no longer walk but get around in a wheelchair, I need someone to help take care of me all of time, I can no longer think clearly-I am confused all the time, I can no longer recognize family/friends, My situation causes severe emotional burden for my family (such as feeling worried or stressed all the time, I cannot seem to “shake the blues.”" are all the different categories that I personally fall under for a life not worth living. Thankfully, I can choice choices such as "Difficult but acceptable" and "worth living but just barely" however if you choose more than it asks wouldn't the combination just make your life "Not Worth Living."
For some reason, I needed a drink and I don't drink. This trash destroys people so the government can save money. After the first section, it makes it seem like anybody who doesn't pull the plug if you go into a coma is an imbecile. Worse yet, imagine you had AIDs in the 1980s, the recommendation here is to die. "Imagine that you are very sick and have been told that you will very likely die soon." The answers are: I would want all possible treatments, even though my doctors don't think they will help me, because I would hope for a miracle cure that would prolong my life. Please circle yes Not Sure or no. Remember, by the wording of the question, you'd be an idiot to hope for a miracle cure.
The last section is the choices you make. Do you want IV solutions or antibiotics if you have a life threatening illness? My question is what constitutes life threatening? The flu kills thousands of people a year. If I was to catch pneumonia, would I not be treated? Worse yet, the answers to all of these questions are being stockpiled by government workers into a central file. What happens when you mess up? Do you not treat me?
My fears of the government making mistakes are founded in reality. In Iraq I was injured when a vehicle entered our convoy (we were going approx. 45-50mph) and slammed on his brakes in front of us. At the same time, another vehicle was approaching the convoy from the rear (we were the last vehicle). This is a common tactic to separate our gun truck from the rest of the convoy. Luckily we managed to destroy the vehicle in front and thwart any plans. Two soldiers were injured in the process though. However, the convoy commander, Captain Hoxey, didn't report the incident for whatever reason he had, my belief was incompetence. The only record we have is my clinic record, two days after the fact. No purple hearts even though the other soldier had a stroke due to complications with his injuries. Nothing, because of a lazy, incompetent person.
Another example is when I went to reenlist and found that I had several NJPs (Non-Judicial Punishments) due to the fact that another person in the country of Iraq had the same last name and wasn't performing his job. It had reached my personnel file instead of his although we had different jobs (MOS), Ranks, first name, Battalions, and social security numbers. If this was a completed for, I'd be dead. Thank God for small favors.
