Futureworld, blog 2

So, its the 2nd day of this stuff. This blog that's supposed to promote mental healing. (VA counselor suggested it.) Every day I take 600 mg of a drug called Nefazadone which is the maximum any human can ingest of that stuff. Supposedly, its non-habit forming but a few years ago I tried taking myself off the dosage and experienced severe (acute?) anger, flashbacks, and didn't sleep more than 2 hours a night until I got back on it. One day off the drug and I can really tell a difference in my attitude. Others notice it, too. So I take 300 mg every morning and 300 mg every night. Don't know whether its a "crutch" for the psyche or not but I'm just comfortable with it now after 12 years on the stuff. And it beats the alternative--the suicide attempts, crazy actions, violent hair trigger temper, bad nightmares, etc. etc.!
Back in 1997 was when I first went to the Vet Center in North Little Rock. I went at the behest of my boss (himself a war veteran) who said he thought I might find it helpful for me. I didn't know he knew I had a problem in that area but he was older and pretty wise and I guess he noticed something in my actions that "wasn't quite right." I do remember playing around one day when I saw some gooks on the car lot, got an umbrella and squatted down beside a window and aimed the umbrella at 'em and pretended to shoot 'em. I made the "pow" noise and when the other guys looked over at me I told 'em that asians looked great when they were dead with blood-matted black hair, their sun baked swollen bodies filled with maggots! My boss witnessed my little scene and that's when he suggested I might need assistance from the Vet Center.
So I went. I walked into a counselor's office, sat down across from her desk and stared at her for a minute or two; then I completely fell apart. Boohooed uncontrollably. Never said a word, just sat there and released about 27 years of pent-up emotion. The counselor, an older retired VA RN named Mary just sat there. She did offer me a box of kleenex. I gave her my DD214. She looked at it and said something about me being a "hero." (have always disliked that term) She read aloud. "Silver Star, 4 Bronze Stars with V for valor, Purple Heart, Army Commendation Medal with V for valor," and she went on and on reading everything out loud. She said that after looking at that she was surprised I had waited so long because she knew I probably had been carrying around a lotta baggage for a lotta years. And I had.

Introduction

I'm a Vietnam combat veteran. Army retired. VA 100% permanently and totally PTSD disabled. There may be many other combat veterans from any war/wars, but none experienced more "live ammunition" excercises than I did. Seemed just about every day from September 3, 1967 thru January 10, 1970, I was getting shot at, nearly exploded, crashed in helicopter, or some other piece of horror that apparently keeps me pretty well locked in a war that took place some 40 years ago. The reason I'm starting this blog and will keep at it is not to portray myself as some kind of "big bad green beret" or anything like that. I'm starting it because I want my grandkids and great-grandkids to be able to see what/who I was and why they may be the way they are. Genes. So tomorrow I'll start to write down experiences.

I've noticed that we're losing so many, many WWII and Korean War veterans every day. Most of them pass on without any legacy of war experiences. Most of us combat veterans don't like to talk about those years and so our stories die with us. That's not fair to our posterity. So this will let them know.