Tag Archives: PTSD

Latest column in the North County Times

Posted by Mike Grice on

Here is my latest column in the North County Times:

No one immune to PTSD

 

Never in our history has the military establishment or the nation been as forthcoming or accepting of combat stress injuries. There are programs everywhere to help those who suffer from the effects of prolonged combat. The Veterans Administration offers everything from individual counseling to residential treatment for those who have left the military, and active-duty personnel are afforded the opportunity to seek treatment without effect to their careers.

Well, officially anyway.

I recognized that I had PTSD after my third combat tour. I had just returned from Afghanistan, and with a roomful of Marines I sat down for a post-deployment briefing that was pretty much identical to the ones I had attended after my two trips to Iraq.

A parade of briefers that ranged from concerned professionals to bored bureaucrats passed before us, flinging a blizzard of papers for us to read, initial, fill out, and sign. We sat behind computer terminals to see if we experienced any traumatic brain injuries, listened to how important it was to be patient with our wives and girlfriends and kids, and not to go out and get rip roaring drunk on our first night home.

Somewhere between the brain test and the drinking-and-driving lecture, a sheaf of papers was handed around for all of us to complete. Not thinking too much about it, I grabbed my pencil and started filling in the little bubbles by the questions.

“Do you have problems sleeping?”

“Are you more irritable now than before you deployed?”

“Do you have problems remembering things?”

“Do you feel unable to relax?”

The questions covered the page. I marked the little bubbles one after the other, and when I was done I looked it over and dropped my pencil in shock. It wasn’t the first time that I had seen a form like this; in fact, I filled one out after every deployment. The difference this time was that I had a whole lot more questions marked “Yes” than there had been previously. Not just one or two or three questions. I said yes to more than half of them.

My reaction was, “Holy mackerel! I can’t possibly have PTSD —- only burned out losers have PTSD. Not me! No way!”

I walked up to the guy who handed out the forms and turned it in. He looked at it, looked at me, and asked me if I wanted to go see anybody.

That was it. I could say no and get on with my life. That, to be honest, is the course that the vast majority of military folks take. At that moment, that timeless span of a few seconds, thoughts rocketed through my mind. What will people say? Do I really need help? Is there something wrong with me? Only losers have PTSD, don’t they?

So I chose not to choose, but I did ask the guy for more information. He shrugged and handed me a brochure for an on-base facility that offered assessment and treatment with no questions asked. I looked it over, folded it up, and went on my way.

Moving on was not as simple as shoving the brochure in my pocket, however. I really started to view myself through a different lens; I paid attention to myself. I really couldn’t remember things even though my mind had formerly been sharp. I was short-tempered, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t relax. I came to the stark realization that I had changed, and not in a good way.

So I made a choice. I pulled the crumpled pamphlet out of my pocked and read through it. Not just another cursory once over as I had done before, but I really studied it. It promised an opportunity to be evaluated by a staff of professionals whose only purpose was to help Marines like me. All I had to do was make a call.

So I did. More on that in my next column.

PTSD and Me, from the North County Times

Posted by Mike Grice on

Here is my latest column in the North County Times- a bit more on my personal experiences with PTSD:

Life “outside the wire” in a combat unit is the pinnacle of stress and a morass of boredom, with every minute lasting an hour and every hour lasting an eternity as you wait for the crack of an AK-47 and the snap of a passing 7.62 millimeter bullet. It is a way of life unlike any other, and to live through it changes your life forever.

I served four tours in two wars in five short years. Iraq was more kinetic —- which is the military word for people doing their best to kill each other with guns and bombs and such —- while Afghanistan was less personally violent.

My teams and I logged well over 200 missions “outside the wire.”

Most missions were accomplished without getting shot at or shooting back, but enough weren’t to keep us on our toes. We never really knew which trip into enemy territory would be our last, and collectively our minds shifted into overdrive as we departed the relative safety of the forward operating base or combat outpost for insurgent territory.

Being in combat consumes you. You become completely focused on the now. Thoughts of home and family are pushed completely from your mind as you look in a hundred directions at once: Is that an IED or just a pile of trash? Where would a sniper hide? Are those kids just playing, or are they lookouts for an insurgent ambush? Where are my teammates? Is that a tripwire? Does that man in the distance have a shovel or a rifle? Is he digging in an IED or fixing a broken pipe?

You are completely immersed in what is happening at the moment. You are consumed by your mission and completely focused on what is happening around you because you are never more than a split second away from the absolute chaos of a firefight or IED attack. You are always looking for cover, for something to dive behind when the bullets start flying. You become attuned completely to the environment and as one with your teammates.

That level of intense and singular focus is crucial to survive in combat. It is also impossible to seamlessly turn off when you come home.

I know because that describes me. PTSD takes many forms, and the inability to turn it off is mine.

I developed hypervigilance, which means that I have essentially developed adult-onset ADHD. I can’t sit still or relax without feeling pensive and anxious. I am compelled to be in motion in spite of myself.

I can’t sleep. I have not had a full night’s uninterrupted rest since 2005 —- well, not at home. I sleep fine in Afghanistan and Iraq, but not in San Diego. I snap wide awake every few hours, and if I am lucky, I can get back to sleep. I’m not often lucky.

I can’t remember anything. I have misplaced my short-term memory; I must write every task down as soon as I learn of it or I will forget. It drives my wife to distraction when I can’t remember what I went to the store for, or why I am standing in front of the pantry with a blank look on my face.

I can’t forget many of the events I experienced in combat, despite how much I wish I could. Every day I find my mind wandering back to firefights and attacks and blood and death, even though such things are the last thing I want to think about. Memories abound in my subconscious and they bubble to the surface unannounced, reminding me daily that I have killed for my country and come frighteningly close to dying for it.

PTSD is always with me as I move through my post-war life.

It is not hopeless, however, because there is help out there for those who seek it. More on that in my next column.

 

Read more: http://www.nctimes.com/news/local/military/columnists/grice/grice-ptsd-is-personal-for-combat-vets/article_37b56010-dca2-5463-9a2b-51f1f31f9b43.html#ixzz1rwXtaaA5

Another perspective on PTSD

Posted by Mike Grice on

Here is my latest column on PTSD.  It is in today’s North County Times:

In my last column, I wrote about the differences in perspective regarding Combat Operational Stress Injuries and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The civilian world has come to accept that COSI and PTSD exist, and has largely embraced the inevitable truth that not all scars can be seen. In the military, however, there is a very real and tangible stigma against the perceived weakness that accompanies the admission of psychological trauma.

What those in and out of uniform agree on, though, is that psychological injuries are real.

But who suffers from these injuries? Is it only those who carry rifles and do the killing, or are others affected by their experiences in war?

The answer may surprise you.

At the start of the 1973 Yom Kippur war, there was a young Israeli soldier home on leave when his nation was attacked —- and as any soldier would do, he went to the sound of the guns. Unable to link up with his armored unit, he gave aid to the wounded until a recently repaired tank came available for him to take into the fight. Over the next 20 hours he fought nonstop, destroying more than 20 enemy tanks while having a half dozen shot out from underneath him. When his tank was destroyed, he would jump from the burning hulk and find another so that he could remain in the battle.

Time and time again he cheated death. He fought and killed and watched his crewmates die, and still he went back into the fight. He fought until he could fight no more; climbing from his tank, he fell to the ground, muttering “I can’t anymore …” as he collapsed. He could go no farther.

For a soldier to experience savagery on such an intimate and visceral level leaves him with scars that only he sees. He still carries those scars, decades later, and deals with them by sharing his experiences with the youth of his nation.

But what about veterans who have not killed for their country? What about those who don’t carry a rifle or fight in a tank?

Let me tell you about a young Marine who spent seven months at an airbase in Iraq. He worked on the flight line from which his squadron’s helicopters flew casualty evacuation missions. Day in and day out they came and went, and at the end of the mission the aircraft would be parked and serviced.

This Marine’s job was a simple one —- all he had to do was clean out the back of the helicopter. Day after day he washed blood and brains and bits of shredded uniforms from the back of the helicopter so that it would be ready to fly.

Now, years later, he cannot close his eyes to sleep without seeing the bloody decks he scrubbed. Although he left that base in Iraq, it never leaves him.

How about the young Air Force radio operator who hitched a ride with some soldiers in an armored vehicle? As they traveled across the Iraqi town of Ramadi they were ambushed, and the airman watched the crew burn to death after an IED ripped through the fuel tank and sparked an inferno before they could bail out.

And then there are the doctors and nurses who worked in Charlie Med. On one particularly bad night, a squad of Marines was hit by a tragically effective attack in which a devastating IED literally cut them down at the knees. The surgical team amputated more than a dozen legs and feet that night, and the coming dawn found them huddled outside the door, shaking as they smoked cigarette after cigarette next to a pile of shredded limbs.

Do these people have psychological injuries?

Yes. I know because I was there, and like them I have my own burdens.

And like the tank commander, I will share them, too.

Read more: http://www.nctimes.com/news/local/military/columnists/grice/grice-ptsd-doesn-t-only-happen-to-front-line-troops/article_15ba65b4-d552-52de-b236-2198ca773928.html#ixzz1qcOH3Iqg

Combat Stress and PTSD: My latest column in the North County Times

Posted by Mike Grice on

Here is my latest column in the North County Times.  As a veteran of multiple tours in two wars I have personally experienced and witnessed first hand the the wide spectrum of combat related stress and the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  To me it is a truly important subject, and I am writing about the subject as a columnist in our local newspaper.

 

Stigma still attached to PTSD

Every person who goes to war brings a little bit of it home. For some, they carry memories of their adventures and some stories to tell. Others, however, bring home a burden that weighs upon their psyche and may accompany them for the rest of their lives.

Even though two combat veterans may have been in the same places and experienced the same stresses, joys, horrors and camaraderie that are all factors in the personal experience of warfare, they will return home affected by their participation in very different ways.

There is a wide range of emotional and psychological effects that result from an individual’s involvement in conflict. No veteran returns home without some change within themselves, and in that regard they are no different from any other person who experiences a stress and separation for extended periods of time. Research and common sense both irrefutably show that prolonged exposure to stress, as well as involvement in terrifyingly brief but immensely stressful situations, results in psychological change. Just how much change varies with every person, and the effects of the experience differ for each and every person who goes through such an event.

These effects are not limited to participants in war. Anyone can suffer from long-term exposure to stress or from short-term specific events. Battered women who endure abusive relationships agonize long after they leave the abuser, just as survivors of disasters such as plane crashes or earthquakes endure inner turmoil even though the actual event has come and gone.

Veterans of war share the same inner conflict and anxiety as anyone who has been through the emotional wringer.

Does that mean that we have over a million sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder? Nope. The majority of veterans return from the combat theater with no psychological damage, but instead with a broader perspective on life that shapes their worldview and subtly alters their thought processes and reasoning as they move on with their lives. They live as they did before they left, except for a greater reservoir of experience to draw from.

That said, a significant number of combat vets experience real difficulty adjusting to life at home when they return from overseas. They suffer from combat operational stress injury, or COSI. Their symptoms range from mild to severe, and from acute to chronic. Some sufferers require little assistance to overcome the challenges they face when they come home, while others are completely incapacitated by the ravages of PTSD.

To the tremendous credit of the Department of Defense and the Veterans Administration those who suffer from COSI are encouraged to participate in treatment that is comprehensive, effective, non-attributional and free. Active-duty personnel can take advantage of Deployment Health Centers that offer a wide range of assistance and treatment options that are designed to help the service member understand and cope with their stress injury while still wearing the uniform. The Veterans Administration likewise offers a wide array of services for veterans who are no longer actively serving; all a veteran needs to do is contact the Veterans Affairs office for assistance.

And therein lies the rub.

There are dozens of programs in the DOD and VA to help people who have fought for their country, but surprisingly few actually seek help even though they really need it. The programs are free, so there is no financial reason to stay away. They are also non-attributional, meaning that there is no official retribution or black mark on a person’s record should they seek help.

Why, then, do so many fail to seek treatment?

The answer is simple. Even though society has come to accept that the mind can suffer injury just as the body can, the same cannot be said for the members of the armed forces. There is a very real stigma attached to those who seek mental help while in uniform, and the perception of the stigma follows closely behind servicemen and servicewomen as they transition back to civilian life.

So why does the stigma still exist in the military when society has largely come to accept it?

The military exists to fight the nation’s wars. Sure, it does a lot of other things, too, like perform humanitarian missions at home and abroad and provide employment —- but the true purpose of the military is to fight.

In order to go to war and win requires that the people in the military be aggressive, fit and mentally inured to hardship in order to do the things required of them in combat. The cultures of the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps all revolve around things like strength, resilience, aggressiveness and toughness. Any form of weakness is contrary to the warrior culture, and individuals who exhibit weakness are viewed as lesser beings in the eyes of their peers.

Seeking help for stress injuries is viewed as weakness. Even though thousands of people really need help, they won’t pursue it. The official DOD policy states that seeking help is non-attributional and that there will be no detriment to a person’s career, but the truth is different. Warriors don’t want to be seen as mentally frail, so they just suck it up despite all of the opportunities to help overcome their injuries. They fear ostracism, so they just hide their pain and soldier on.

I know, because I have seen it first-hand. I’ll explain in my next column.
Read more: http://www.nctimes.com/news/local/military/columnists/grice/grice-stigma-still-attached-to-ptsd/article_5639a06a-f763-5388-b605-e7eed42844fc.html#ixzz1pOevCsqn