WOULD THE REAL CRAZY PLEASE STAND UP


It’s been several months, hell half a year nearly since my last entry and as I read through my own words I think two things: Jesus I talk a lot and wow this is a boring blog. But at the same time I never wrote it to be exciting to anyone else, I wrote it for me. I think there are some gems of clarity amidst most of the aimless ranting but I think this is also why I haven't been writing. At some point, as I had indicated in previous posts, my perspective-heck my motive- for volunteering and befriending veterans at WRAMC became rather clouded.

Course I've also had some logistical problems, one being that my sister wrecked my car and it’s taken me a while to get it fixed. Not having a car has pretty much put the breaks on me getting up to the hospital frequently, which I lament. But I guess the break was needed. I intend to reactivate my volunteer activity once I am driving next month, but will do so with restraint. I have still interacted with several of my friends up there and those that have left, but for a while there it all got to be too much.

And I feel like a wimp saying that and have felt like a wimp. Sure the car thing really cramped my style but I think a part of me was just really tired. Before I knew it, I was caught in a bunch of Malogne House drama and it really started taking a toll on me emotionally and professionally. Also the Washington Post articles brought increased scrutiny and suspicion from both patients and staff at the Malogne House. The Rec Director who used to call me frequently with volunteer opportunities stopped and the USO had to issue an email about volunteer decorum. I am not saying they threw the gauntlet down but the door was not as wide open as it had been for civilians trying to stay close to patients.

And rightfully so. A reporter had made herself into a Trojan horse and found a way to breech the "perceived" code of silence about conditions at Walter Reed. I've commented on her work repeatedly but combined with my own drama I think I really had just had enough for a while. I also just didn’t know what to do.

I had made friends with a few patients and we frequently hung out socially. I would occasionally do them favors (give rides, bring meals) but after a while with a few of them I just felt really manipulated. I went back and forth...is it okay that they are thinking selfishly, I mean they have given so much right? But then I started hearing things....once you spend enough time at the Malogne House no one is immune from accusation or suspicion. On the surface everyone seems so supportive (and in many cases they are) but behind closed doors patients talk a lot of shit. I suppose it is the same way when you are in the field (from what I've heard). And it makes sense; just because you get assigned to a unit doesn’t mean you have to like everyone. But the drama there is really overwhelming; at least it overwhelmed and disappointed me.

Mind you, I have never claimed that these folks are perfect. But I guess, and in two specific cases that I cared deeply about, I was really let down to find out that most of what these two patients had told me was a lie.

A lie. Shit what is a lie at this point? Hearing that a patient is basically faking her injury or that another patient is not taking his meds so he can receive a higher discharge / disability payment was pretty discouraging. Not that I was discouraged by these individuals mind you, but that the truth about their circumstances really made it hard to know what the right thing for me to do was.

Their reality was and is their reality. If the female patient I spoke about is faking the severity of her injury, maybe it’s because she doesn’t know how to go home, or has nothing to go home to. But I have to be honest here; I think this girl was pretty fucked up before she joined the military frankly. I think she’s been a drama queen from day one and really liked being a drop dead gorgeous girl in the military. Time after time she would tell me about the drama in her life and how all these guys were assholes and yet I would see her flirt her ass off with almost anyone. I'm no psychologist but this woman has severe mental problems, whether or not they were intensified by war is certain, and what is more certain is that she is the military's problem now.

At first when I met her I was truly sympathetic to her plight. It’s not easy being a woman in the military, and certainly not easy to be a woman in the Malogne House. While there are many families there, there are a lot of very young and very horny guys there to deal with. Watching her interact with various patients I began to understand why she was always getting into trouble. This girl is a major flirt and she lies like hell. About her past relationships, about her injuries, heck told me she was raped out in Iraq and then later laughed it off as a joke. I hated the feelings that I had about her. I hated how confused I felt around her and how manipulated. But I have to think that this is part of the readjustment back to civilian life right? But I’m not so sure. It wasn't just her; everyone I met up there would tell you one thing about their life only to have it refuted behind their back as soon as they left the room. I had gotten, (what I thought) was very close to this patient, only to find out that most of what she had told me was a lie. But if it was truth to her, did it matter? Is truth just a matter of perspective?

One of the guys that she had "befriended" used to act like her protective boyfriend. Pretty soon word came to me that she and he were fighting and weren't friends "no more". She said that he was a liar and he said she was a liar. They both accused each other of misusing their meds or being addicted to the wrong ones. The guy ended up going home and getting married over Christmas, apparently he had been engaged the entire time. When he told me he was married he looked at me confused and said "You knew I was engaged!" I certainly did not and he certainly never made it clear to me (nor did he act like it) that he was engaged. The female patient eventually went home for a while and the male patient returned and busied himself with getting out of the Malogne House so he could set up a new life with his young wife. Who apparently is an illegal immigrant....(?!)

Great.

Weeks became months and I didn't hear from either of them for a while. Which was fine with me as I really didn't know what to do or who to trust. I didn't go up to Walter Reed looking for a new social life and resigned myself to pulling back on the social aspects of my vet relationships and returning to more structured volunteer work.

Months later, I approached a third party adult (a Mother that I have referenced before) who I deeply trusted about these two patients. She knew them both closely as well, as they were all sort of permanent residents there. She explained to me how the female patient was faking the severity of her injury and that doctors had basically told her that there was nothing wrong. So what was she still doing there? The mother told me that she’s basically riding the system until she is forced to go home. No one is taking care of this woman basically. She is young, obviously psychologically troubled and is literally left alone in her room until the military gives her new orders. No one can get a straight answer from her about why her family isn’t more involved, or about the progress with her injuries. I've been tempted to march up to the hospital myself and demand answers about her, if only to try to get her the help she really needs.

Oh yeah and the male patient that I had trusted even more than the female one got a job selling guns in MD and apparently had to move out of the Malogne House because the military had found out he was living there with an illegal. Apparently he is not taking his meds because he wants to get a bigger disability payment.

Deeeep exhale.....

So I decided to approach the male patient with the information I had learned. I tried to trust that he would be honest with me and I wanted to approach him as a concerned friend rather than an accuser. When I asked about his meds he told me that his doctors had put him on the wrong medication and that is why he wasn’t' taking anything. Oh yeah and he also discredited the mother I had spoken to. He began to tell me stories about how "she was crazy" and "that family is fucked up". I felt as if I had no where to turn for "truth". The fact is that three years later, and months after this has all occurred I still can’t sort out my feelings.

When I first started going up there, as you might have read (for the few that are) I thought I was the one missing something as a civilian. I thought I was the one that was confused, and while I think that is still true, I guess I was naive thinking that would find the truth with the soldiers themselves.




So months have passed. I miss my friends, at least I missed the times we had before I really knew them I guess. For months I felt really shitty, about myself, about them, about the war in general. I had veteran fatigue and became pretty depressed. When I first started at the hospital I thought the world of these guys and girls and believed that everyone just had it wrong. But now I'm not so sure. I've been told that I am holding our military to too high a standard, that within any organization there are liars, cheats and thieves. I chewed on that a while, and it makes sense. I had made boy and girl scouts out of soldiers with checkered pasts. I did this selfishly, because it what I needed to believe. But believing something enough doesn't make it true apparently.

My friend is a union electrician and says that the union is the same way. Heck my cozy white collar office is the same way when I really think about it. Shit- I have my own skeletons and issues and fibs I tell to coworkers and even friends. Why did these patients owe me the truth when all they wanted was some company and a few laughs. I mistook myself for a confidant, when I was more like the bartender in an airport. People spill their guts, brag about shit and then leave forever. You can strip away all the bullshit we all tell eachother, the characters we play, but civilian or soldier we are all human. Was the simple lesson to be learn here that people aren't perfect?

When did I absolve myself and them of being human and flawed? Why did war change what I expected from people? Why did I assume it forced people to be honest, or somehow better people? How could I have been so delusional? Who's the real crazy one now eh? Did I deceive them into thinking that I was their friend when I was really maybe just a peeping tom, trying to sort my own shit out. Who is the liar? Who is using who? Me or them?