Oh, how I wish I could take photos inside the VA. CC looked like himself on a normal day wandering around in his wheelchair in the Compensation & Pension division of the VA hospital.  He had on his green grunt t-shirt, a green towel around his neck, wheel chair gloves, elbow braces, leg brace, his birth control glasses, with sunglasses atop them and here is where the similarity stops. He had in his lap a folder with big black letters on them: PTSD.  He waved the folder at the lady checking people in, and it looked for all the world like a big caution sign. 

Danger, danger, PTSD alert.

I was reminded of our first trip to Augusta last year about this time.  CC had recently had a seizure. We went to the coast for the Altamaha RiverKeepers Clam Jam and next thing I know he is laying under a big oak tree looking like he is getting ready to pass over into the next realm. We had thought killing the extra set of nerves in his heart was going to take care of those pesky things. 

After that episode, we went to a regularly scheduled appointment in Augusta to see the doctor  treating all the iron in CC's blood that isn't supposed to accumulate (but does) and therefore endangers his liver.  The doctor maintained all the bloodletting in the world wasn't going to help CC's liver if he didn't stop drinking.  So CC stopped drinking.  No more seizures. Hopefully that addressed the problem.

The trip to Augusta last year was a PTSD nightmare.  We didn't know the way, CC was in pain, and all his triggers had triggered. Once we got there, they informed CC his appointment had been canceled.  He must of had a certain look in his eye - like he was carrying a PTSD sign or something - and he said, "you tell that to my menopausal wife." They let him see a doctor right off and he told CC the bad news about his drinking days being over.

Back to the present visit, the evaluation. CC flashed his PTSD sign at the receptionist, but he is not in the dangerous, swampy waters denoting combat mode, thank goodness. So far our trip had been a holiday.

 

We took in the Augusta River Walk, a delightful place even someone in a wheelchair can enjoy (steep, long ramp - caution). We had a great meal at The Bonefish the night before and a Starbucks breakfast. Life was good.

 

The psychologist evaluating CC informed me there was not enough room for me in the examining room. This was  between him and CC, so I don't know too much of what went on except for the fragments CC has told me about.

This I know.  CC is a combat wounded veteran. Just last week we went to the enrollment office in Dublin to make sure his ID has Purple Heart written on it. His records have not accurately reflected the cause of his injuries. CC is on a mission to have all of this corrected. To get his ID changed, they copied his DD-whatever form (which has through CC's long effort now shows more information), will send the form to Washington DC and they will change it there.

This important for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, with Purple Heart on his ID card; CC becomes one of the most high ranking individuals at the facility. He was blown up in war. The only people who are in line in front of him are POWs.  Therefore if he is in dire need of help, the Purple Heart on his ID will ensure quick service.

The second reason is because his records should (SHOULD) reflect what actually happened.  Someone's careless misconstruing of the details isn't right.  The records should show the facts.

Back to Augusta (sorry for all the wandering around). The psychologist's first words were, "two purple hearts, that ought to do it."  Plus CC has a  combat action ribbon, and four bronze  stars which show how many operations he participated in.

CC was asked to fold paper in half,  an an easily accomplished task. The psychologist told him his brain was still working. Another exercise was to write a sentence, any sentence.  CC: "Be alert!" It was the shortest sentence he could come up with which wasn't one word. Another question he was asked was "what would he do in a crowded theater and saw a fire had broken out?"

The exam took an hour and a half.  For most of the people CC knows who had similar evaluations;  theirs only lasted about 30 minutes at the most. We don't know the results yet, and it will be awhile before we do. Stay tuned.