The One Thing I Wish I Did When I Left the Military

Recently I went for my first compensation and pension appointment with the VA. The appointment didn’t go well, and it was all my fault.

After just a few minutes, I felt deflated and wished I could go back and do things over.

I have a number of what I feel are service-related injuries. My military medical records are more than 80 pages and I didn’t even have copies of everything.

I served two different terms, one as enlisted and a second as an officer. Like everyone in the modern army I made multiple deployments.

I also served in combat as an infantryman, and although (thank God), I was never wounded, I sustained multiple injuries both in and out of combat.

After thousands of dollars in medical bills and some encouragement from my mother and wife, I decided to file a claim. I filled out two initial claims. One for physical injuries and chronic pain and one for PTSD. A short time later I received an appointment at the VA facility in Helena, Montana and despite some confusing directions, my visit went as planned.

I met with a very pleasant lady whose job it was to review my medical records, interview me and then give me a physical to review my health. Afterwards she will write up a report and submit it for a review process. It was a long appointment and she was very thorough. They took nine x-rays!

As she interviewed me, she listened very patiently to my stories as I tried to remember things that happened long ago. She was trying to get to the bottom of my problems, and it was difficult to remember everything. Some things happened more than 30 years ago.

At one point, she asked me the most important question, “you had all of these injuries, why did you wait 15 years to come in and see us?”

I didn’t have a good answer. My mind jumped to when I first returned home from Iraq. I was exhausted, heart-broken and not in my right mind. I was in the Army’s 3rd infantry division during their initial deployment to Iraq. It was a tough year. Upon returning, Fort Stewart was overwhelmed with the first waves of homecoming troops, many of which were wounded, sick and injured. My aches and pains seemed trivial in comparison.

I visited the families of the soldiers who died in my unit and tried to provide some small comfort. I also spent a lot of time with those who made it home but were having difficulty. It kept me busy and more than a little numb.

Being around troops who had devastating injuries like gun shots, lost limbs or brain injuries, made it hard for me to justify seeking help for myself. As I out processed, I just wanted to put it behind me and get on with the next phase of my life.

My first few months on the outside were surreal. Looking back on it, I realize I had some serious mental issues, but I never got help. I made one single attempt to visit the VA in Connecticut. I drove up to the facility, went inside and saw how crowded it was and never went back. It was a mistake. A very big mistake.

Part of me didn’t feel like I deserved help. I wasn’t hurt as bad as many others. Who am I to complain? Can’t I tough it out and help myself?

“Hey Ranger, quit whining!” I thought.

The thing the kind-hearted lady at the VA was trying to tell me was I probably waited too long. How will the VA fully connect my issues today with what happened then?

If I had gone in during my first year, they would have had a baseline to work from. Now they have to guess. They have to try and unravel what I have been doing as a civilian, and the aging factor. What part of my issues are age related? Did anything I have been doing the last few years as a civilian contribute? There are no easy answers.

And that is just the physical portion of my claim. For the last 15 years, I have been struggling with mental issues—panic, depression, insomnia, and anger. Lots of anger. More anger than is necessary for things that happened long ago and cannot be changed. Anger, hate and sorrow are not healthy emotions to dwell on for long. They steal your life away.

Last summer I was feeling really bad and called the VA and told them I needed to talk to a mental health professional. I must have sounded nearly as bad as I felt because they got me in right away.

One single appointment made me feel a bit better. It was like throwing off the biggest ruck you ever carried in your life. I can hardly explain the relief I felt telling some of my story. I told things to the doctor that my wife of 17 years doesn’t even know. It was cathartic.

But they wouldn’t let me go back.

I never filed a claim. In their system I didn’t exist. Even though my mental issues are 100% service related, they couldn’t help me. If I had committed suicide, it wouldn’t have been their responsibility. I wasn’t a patient.

I would just be one more statistic. One more tough guy who wouldn’t let anyone help him.

To his credit, the doctor called me back more than once, apologized and did everything he could to get me to agree to go to a civilian doctor to get help. He gave me a number at the VA in Helena to call for help with filing a claim. I called it many times but no one ever answered and there was no voice mail. It was very frustrating and unnecessary.

I didn’t have the heart to start over with another doctor, so I never got help.

A few weeks later, the VA sent me a bill for my mental health appointment, and I was really angry. What was wrong with them? My issue was service related.

But it was my own issue. I should have been mad at myself. I didn’t follow the process. I didn’t give them the chance to help me. If I never filed a claim, how were they supposed to know I needed help?

I have no idea how my case will turn out. They might deny everything, cover some things, and reject others. The biggest lesson is that I will never get back the help I could have received for the last 15 years.

If they decide I am due a percentage for disability, the payments only begin from when I filed the claim. I have lost 15 years of potential payments, that is 180 months of  benefits. Even if it was only $100 per month, that is $18,000 gone forever!

I am still waiting for them to set up my mental health appointment. It has been weeks and still no response or next steps. I called them, but no one could tell me anything. I faxed my paperwork a second time, asking in the cover letter if they could at least acknowledge receipt of the fax, but no one responded. I should have sent that fax 15 years ago.

I hope they respond soon.

The Lesson

If you are a transitioning vet, and you have any injuries or even suspect you have an injury, as soon as you get out, go to the VA and let them document everything. Don’t wait one day.

Don’t make the mistake I made. Follow their process so that one day if you need help, it will be available.

It is called help for a reason and—you earned it.