Last week, nearly forty years after his return from Vietnam, my husband was diagnosed with PTSD. He already has full disability benefits from the injuries he sustained when a 82 mm recoilless rifle round rocket landed in his fighting hole.
When he made it back stateside, the bus used to transport him to the hospital had chain linked fence on the windows to keep bricks from flying through, bricks from an angry American public. Why were we taking out our fury about this misguided war on the soldiers? Most of them were drafted. Not my husband though. He choose the Marines. He was looking for adventure in all the wrong places. He got adventure. He got a body full of shrapnel. A torn up leg, hip, shoulder and face. He got a lot of things.
He prided himself that he didn't have the crazy diagnosis. But those of us who lived with him throughout the years have known. We knew he drank himself senseless every night. We knew his anger issues. I am his fourth wife. Why so many wives, the psychiatrist asked him. Do you have anger issues?
We looked at each other. He has never hit anyone. He isn't violent. But he has a righteous rage that burbles up especially when his pain level raises. I have almost left him because I could no longer stand being yelled at every day for being who I am. But I didn't leave him because his anger is only a portion of who he is. His heart is so big and open that if he didn't have barbs all around it then he would be totally unprotected.
And his marriages did not end because of anger. They ended because of infidelity, his wife's first and then his. They ended because of a prolonged separation with number two and number three ended because of me.
He stopped his daily drinking routine in October and has finally gotten on a real pain management regimen. Now his anger has practically evaporated. Oh sure, it flares on occasion but not daily. I no longer feel under attack. We are making progress.
He got the diagnosis because I will get better benefits if I outlive him. Turns out his two purple hearts automatically qualify him for PTSD diagnosis. But believe me when I say he has PTSD. Loud noises can make him stop, drop and roll. Now that we are redecorating our house - I am not allowing the barricades he builds everywhere anymore. Everything relates back to Vietnam.
My husband, in his own lucky/unlucky paradigm of living, is lucky he has injuries that show. Because these injuries have allowed him to be an icon of that war. This man is the most genuine and authentic person I have ever met. There is no subterfuge about who he is. He is "the American War" in Vietnam embodied. The jungle is in him.
His life has followed the curves and bumps of our times. His story is important. And the stories of his mother (now dead), children, wives and others are important. Because they all show how war impacts EVERYONE.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
the traveler
Chuck A. Stetson
Tom Slick
l'Heure Bleue
chalupa
Salon.com
Comments