*Note: all
names and identifiers have been changed, but this story is true.
His name
was Michael. He was in the wrong place
at the wrong time when the shooter at Ft. Hood created mayhem, horror, and
fear. His friends knew that the
incident, deemed “workplace violence” was never far from his mind, but they
thought he was okay. He was not. He committed suicide this month. This did not make the newspapers except in a
small obituary, but it sent a resounding echo of despair to his circle of
friends.
One friend
of his, Jim, reacted very strongly to the news of the suicide. He became very angry. He became physically violent toward his wife. He vehemently threatened systematic destruction of all
of his VA doctors (while in the halls of his local VA), and he expressed suicidal intentions. In each instance, his local VA suicide prevention coordinator was unable to provide help because Jim was not “actively
suicidal”. The Caregiver spoke twice
with the suicide prevention psychologist who said he could not do anything without an
in-the-moment attempt. When saying it
makes no sense not to throw a float to a drowning man, his wife said this, “it
seems that until you are underwater, going down for the last time, that no one
can actually do anything”.
One week
later, after two visits to the local ER, (while his wife made careful safety
contingency plans for herself), the situation worsened. Jim took a household knife into the bathroom
with him and attempted
suicide. (All firearms had long been removed from the household). When his wife broke into the
bathroom, he threatened her with the knife and said he would first kill her,
then himself. Through a near-miracle,
she was able to get him to the local ER and began anew to get him VA psychiatric care. Many calls (some with outside assistance and
advocacy) were made to the VA Crisis Line. Crisis Line recommendations to obtain local VA help went to unanswered voicemail...
With great compassion but also frustration, it seemed that most
everyone’s hands were tied in some way or another, and the hours crept by. Finally the VA said it would admit Jim, but
his wife would have to drive him nearly two hours to the facility – which under
the circumstances was potentially too dangerous. Eventually into the wee hours, the private
hospital moved him to a nearby psychiatric facility since no safe transport
could be arranged to the VA. He remains
there today, awaiting a private PTSD program.
When in doubt, please reach out! And, as
caregivers, remember this: the life you
save may be your own.
Blessings and care,
Linda Kreter & the VeteranCaregiver Team
