I wrote this in June of 2012 - enjoy!

  I thought it would be difficult for me to put my frustration into words fit to read, even though I don’t lack the vocabulary, or have trouble stringing those words together.  My real problem, I imagined, would be in swallowing what little pride and dignity I have left to tell my story.  I was more wrong than I could ever imagine.  As soon as I started to write, the words came tumbling and rushing to the page.  If anything, I needed time to sort out the volume of bitterness into easy to follow paragraphs.  Here goes.

  I served in the Navy for ten years.  When I was discharged, the Veterans Administration (VA) tested me for all kinds of maladies.  They knew I was sick and assigned me a ‘disability rating’ for what I was willing to admit ailed me at twenty eight years young.  Mind you, the VA didn’t tell me any of this for about five years.  When I did track down what they owed me, the amount paid for the closing costs on my home.  My home has been a source of stability and happiness in an otherwise chaotic and dismal situation.  Not only for my family but also for the struggling young adults who have called our tiny house their home as well over the years.

  What I was unprepared for and still find absolutely unbelievable, is that seven years after finding out the VA knew I was sick, I am still wrangling with them and the Social Security Administration (SSA) over those same ‘disability ratings’.  The hundreds of hours that dozens of healthcare and other ‘professionals’ and I have spent to prove or disprove my conditions over the years have cost American taxpayers a truly ungodly amount of money.  Keep in mind that almost a million other veterans are having similar experiences over the same time period.

  Since 2005 when my body finally succumbed to the illnesses I had been fighting since 1996 while deployed to the combat theater in the Red Sea, I have patiently and doggedly pursued the benefits I earned in service to our great nation.  At every turn I’ve encountered skepticism and outright suspicion that I’m faking my conditions, despite statements to the contrary from respected civilian nurse practitioners and doctors.  Much of my frustration stems from the working culture of VA employees (medical examiners and ‘ratings specialists’) who have made it their job to ignore congress, veteran service organizations, individual veterans and the public at large in their pursuit of ‘claims development’.

  VA is a broad organization within the Federal Government.  They oversee a large number of programs that support veterans from the time they re-enter the civilian world until they are interred at a cemetery for eternity.  That gives the organization plenty of room to mess things up.  VA is perhaps the most excellent government agency at making messes of people’s lives.  In my case, that has meant lost work, lost wages, lost health, lost sanity and friction of some kind or another in every relationship I have had since I was discharged.

  Specifically, by repeatedly refusing to grant me ‘100% service connected (SC) disability’ VA has placed a huge financial burden on my family and me.  Living on just enough money for two people I have supported a family of five (sometimes more) and helped support my wife through college.  That means food and shelter, utilities, clothing, childcare, and emotional support on a budget that would barely cover my wife and me.  That stress just adds insult to injury (or in my case illness) by contributing to my SC ‘treatment resistant depression’.

  According to the best medical professionals from Des Moines, Iowa City and Ottumwa, Iowa, I have been diagnosed with a host of illnesses that will only get worse with time.  The first and often most embarrassing disease to affect me was Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS).  This has plagued me most of my adult life and was detected and ‘rated’ at the maximum percentage under VA guidelines before I was discharged from the navy.  I also have Obstructive Sleep Apnea (OSA) that requires me to wear a breathing mask connected to an air machine whenever I sleep.  I have another sleep related condition called Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) that causes me to twitch in my sleep rousing me unless I take medications to prevent the spasms. 

  On the subject of medication, I take or have taken a variety of pills.  I take Wellbutrin and Abilify during the day to help me stay awake and feel less of the effects of depression.  I take Klonopin at night to stop the creepy crawlies associated with my RLS.  I have multiple pain relief and muscle relaxants to help me function when the pain gets too severe.  I have supplements for the vitimins and minerals my body doesn’t produce properly.  I take medicines for my intestines and different medicines for my stomach.  I even have little blue pills prescribed to help me in the bedroom.  My wife and I never thought I’d ever need those!

  I have strained lower back muscles from an ammunition accident I suffered while on a ship in the Baltic Sea.  My eyes are especially sensitive to sunlight and have a pronounced tic when I don’t wear sunglasses.  I have been diagnosed with both Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue; either of which alone would enfeeble anyone who has ever dealt with the ‘fibro-fog’ or the constant weariness that never ends.  But wait!  There is more to come!

  Due to all of these conditions and the constant stress and physical strain my body is under, I have also been diagnosed with ‘treatment resistant depression’.  The treatments have included a virtual constellation of prescription medications.  I have attended both individual and group therapy, along with meditation exercises.  Most recently I have found a neuro-feedback therapy that may show some promise.   “Hope springs eternal.”

  I have been my worst enemy in this fight from time to time.  At first I was young and thought I should be healthy, so I shrugged off my conditions as long as I could.  Even after realizing my health was suffering, I tended to minimize all but the most obvious signs of developing debilitation.  By the time I acknowledged the grip my sickness had on me it was too late, VA and SSA had already decided I wasn’t very sick at all.  I have spent the past five years undoing the damage I did to my case twelve years ago.

  Two foreclosure cases and seven years later, I have learned my lesson.  VA is supposed to be non-adversarial in its contact with veterans.  That is seldom the case.  In my experience with the compensation and pension arm of the VA, no one on either side of a claim or appeal believes in the trust and respect it would take from the other side to fairly decide them.  Not that I have directly witnessed very much disrespect live and in person, but I have plenty of reports that contradict the notion of ‘putting veterans first’ written by VA employees.

  That brings me to the present and the reason for this rant to begin with.  I proudly wore the uniform of our nation for ten years.  Without knowing it, I gave our nation the best years of health I will ever have in this world.  I did this of my own free will with the certainty that if I were hurt or killed that I or my family would be compensated for my loss.  Instead, I have had to scrimp and scrape and beg like a third world urchin from a save the children commercial for what should have been an open and closed case seven years ago from both VA and SSA.

  I have lived from VA payment to VA payment and provided for my family as best as I was able.  At every turn I have been beset by more problems: financial, physical, psychological and otherwise to overcome.  Once I accepted that I would never be healthier again than I am at this very moment, the darkness seemed to close in all around me.  I freely admit to giving up after that on more than one occasion.  My family, friends and unyielding stubbornness have brought me back from the brink each time.  But each episode takes a toll on me, and there is less sand and vinegar left in me for the next fight.

  Now I have run out of every option I can think of to dig myself out of the pit of woe I find myself in.  I have asked every aid agency I could contact for help.  My wife and I receive $16 in food stamps.  There is no financial help available to us through the state because my disability compensation is considered ‘unearned income’ under state guidelines.  That has always seemed like an ironic insult to every man and woman who has served in our armed forces.  We did in fact earn every dollar that comes our way due to disability.  There is no VA welfare wagon to jump on.

  But back to where I was.  I have used payday loans to fill the gaps in what VA sends me once a month.   The interest on these loans (which I was happy to qualify for at the time) would make any sane person shudder.  I have juggled bills, written hot checks, robbed Peter to pay Paul and generally done everything possible to keep my lights and water on and fend off the mortgage company from foreclosing on our home and the auto loan company from repossessing our car.  I have simply run out of places to look for a miracle.

  I thought that by telling my story, I might ease my frustration.  Perhaps reading it would help someone remember a resource I have not been in touch with.  At the very least the rant would be therapeutic for me, putting some of my troubles in perspective.  To that end I can see that I still have a beautiful wife and family, our friends are genuine and look out for us as much as we have looked after them, and even though my health is failing, I still have all my parts and no embedded shrapnel to make air travel more difficult (not that I plan to fly anywhere anytime soon).

  What I have found instead is a slow boiling rage at how long this process is taking and all the suffering my family and I have suffered as it drags on.  My afflictions are not readily apparent to a casual observer.  I haven’t lost a limb, my eyesight or hearing.  Most people don’t understand the weariness, anxiety and fear that cycles without end through my mind at any given moment.  I understand the lack of empathy from anyone unfamiliar with my situation. 

  What I find unforgivable, the straw that settled on my camel’s back is the lack of empathy and refusal to acknowledge not only my situation but hundreds of thousands of similar stories from my brothers and sisters in arms by the very people entrusted by our government with seeing to it that those of us who served this nation are not delayed, forgotten or denied the benefits they earned.  That should infuriate every American man, woman and child who breathes free air every day of their lives thanks to those who put themselves in harms way.