For ten years, I have run across a great many military personnel in my classrooms. I even spent 7 years teaching on a Air Force Base frequently. I've generally been popular with my military students because I flatly refuse to give an opinion on the "wars" that are being fought by the United States. I leave the opinions to people who know far more about the situation from firsthand knowledge than I ever will.
So this isn't an opinion piece about the war. It is an opinion piece about the aftermath.
I'm worried. I really am. I'm worried about the people who serve their country so admirably. They give up so much so that I can sit here and voice an opinion. I try to give back to them as much as possibly can. I worked with my servicemen and servicewomen to make their educational experience as positive and supportive as possible.
I've been amply rewarded by the regard that I received in return. I've also been privileged to receive a level of trust that I feel honored to have. The people in uniform have often told me things about their experiences, not in terms of strategy or tactics, but the difficulties they faced physically, mentally and emotionally. It's not happened often, but when it has, I've treasured and kept close the confessions.
The aftermath is significant and I'm not sure our collective efforts have been enough to help our troops. Fort Hood is not an isolated incident, just a larger one than expected. Thousands of servicemen and women are fighting their own battles with memories, fears and emotional fatigue. I've been hearing through the Fort Hood analysis that in reality, unless they're actually hospitalized, psychological and psychiatric assessments are not made. One psychiatrist mentioned that the troops need to acknowledge and ask for the help before they can receive it.
Do they? Does the atmosphere in which they operate encourage such disclosure? I've encountered so many people who can't or won't talk about their experiences to anyone, instead pushing them into a compartment in their minds and hoping for the best. We know this from every action the military has taken for at least the last 60 years. That logic is probably necessary for them to function, but it's probably not in their best interest in the long term.
It's what I'm calling "medals fatigues." All the medals in the world, all the acknowledgments of bravery and excellence do not compensate for what they have probably gone through. Spouses of military personnel have quietly tried to cope with the stresses of their returning loved ones. Does a purple heart make you feel better about a missing limb, a traumatic brain injury or a psychological problem? Does it compensate a spouse for a dysfunctional return? We've heard over and over again that there's just not enough resources for the aftermath, that the troops have often had to wait, and wait and wait some more for treatment.
I think it's time that we figure out a way to support our troops after they get home, before they're deployed again and before they're out of the military. We acknowledge that there's PTSD and effects of TBI's, but we spend more time talking about the health of the NFL than the military. Last time I checked, servicewomen and men don't make nearly as much as their NFL counterparts.
So in all this discussion of healthcare reform, maybe we need to focus more on the military. We need to make sure that these brave people actually the care they need and deserve for what they've done for us. Again, a yellow ribbon just isn't enough. We need to not assume they're fine until they prove differently. We need to assume that the pressures are more than any normal person should be able to process and act accordingly.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
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