The Broken Soldier

I just got in from my meeting in Lansing.  In a room full of colonels, a few majors, a WO, a SFC, a civilian legislative something-or-other, Sheila Marolla patched in by phone, and my wife and I, we all discussed resolution of my concerns.  I’m on a new patch today, and I’m really high (as is usual on day one of a new patch).  I’m uncertain, therefore, of how the meeting went.

I have vague recollection of two colonels sitting to my left, one I knew, the other I didn’t, scowling at me as I talked.  The colonel I knew rolled his eyes at least once.  The rest of the colonels either asked questions, offered statements or what I perceived as advice.  One of the three majors furiously kept notes (I felt bad for her, as all that writing probably made her hand hurt).  She offered to help us comply with requests for information, and seemed sincerely concerned for the toll this process has taken on my wife and I over the past year.  I thought about relieving her to take notes for a while, but thought better of it.  I was and am too high to do much good to anyone with hand-taken notes.  One of the other majors, my commander, listened intently, and chatted with my wife and I at the meeting’s adjournment.  The other major, a JAG officer, made some comment about “splitting hairs” to the way I answered the question, “How many doctors have said you need surgery?”  “Two” I answered.  “Who?” he said.  “My primary care doctor and my neurosurgeon.”  Then he said something about only one of those being relevant, and then made the hair-splitting comment - though I must admit to being confused about who was guilty of splitting hairs.  I recall the WO smiling a lot and making copies of fax reports/receipts and other documents - all I could manage to stuff in my black, ever-so-stylish handy-dandy CV-carrying portfolio.  The civilian sat quietly.  The SFC added some really useful information on how the system worked, and seemed to truly be interested in helping me.

When the meeting ended I felt pretty good.  There were only a couple of instances in which members tried to throw blame at my feet, but all-in-all most were laser beam-focused, as they should be, on resolving the problems I’ve experienced with getting timely appropriate medical care.  I had what I perceived as a promise from those present to help me get what I need.  For that I was grateful.  The meeting was, by my lights, successful.  I was very pleasantly surprised.

At the meeting’s conclusion my wife broke down.  She cried for several minutes as my commander and I chatted, finally excusing herself to the restroom.  My commander and I also left, and I waited for Sarah to get out of the bathroom.  The ride there, and the sitting had really aggravated the injury.  I was in a lot of pain, and eager to get back home.  Sarah came out and we slowly made our way to our car.  Sarah was still crying.  She said she was happy, though, to be “getting as far away from those people” as she could.  I was a bit puzzled, but too high to figure out a delicate way to broach a discussion.  We were silent for most of the ride home.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I just had to ask her opinion.  She said she believed the meeting and everything said in it was put on for Sheila Marolla.  She doubts anything new will come of this.  Her reasoning is solid: Past experience of similar promises with no results, and repeated disclaimers “we have procedures to follow,” “Knox is responsible for decisions regarding medical treatment,” and the like.  She also had a big problem with one of the colonels, the one I sort of know from past interventions, speaking to me like I’m a child.  I wasn’t sure how to respond.  I began questioning my own perception of the meeting and how it went.  For the time being, as has been the case for the last year, we’ll have to just wait and see.  Now I’m unsure of how to move forward with other plans to redress this matter.  Maybe something good will come of this.  Maybe nothing good will come of this.  What I am sure of is that it’s probably better not to hastily make decisions, such as moving forward with writ of mandamus, especially not on the first day of a new patch.

I’m feeling suspicious.  Suspicious of the motivation behind a meeting I have with various members of the Michigan National Guard on Monday.  Regina Bell, a member of Gov. Jennifer Granholm’s staff, claims this meeting is designed to “lend help.”  I truly wish this is so.  But I have been asking for help for a year, and the government’s efforts to help have produced very little fruit (aside from threats and attempts to intimidate and bully me).

This seems like a relatively simple matter to me.  I have a line of duty injury.  Under Title 10, Subtitle A, Part II, Chapter 55 I’m supposed to receive medical care to appropriately treat that injury.  Under Title 37, Pay and Allowances of the Uniformed Services, Chapter 3, Section 204, when one is injured in the line of duty and unable to work, they are entitled to certain pay and allowances.  That we need the assistant AG, the Chief of Staff (presumably Jennifer Granholm’s, though that wasn’t made clear), and a JAG officer seems like overkill to me.

My friend and advocate Archbp. Simpson asked me what’s my sense of this.  I answered honestly, based on my past experience: I don’t expect this matter to be resolved.  I do expect to be threatened, bullied, intimidated, blamed, etc., and I expect the Guard to be more concerned with covering themselves than with getting me medical care.  He agreed with my assessment.

Someone, Thoreau I think, said something about finding what we expect when we’re suspicious (but T said a lot of stupid things, he may be wrong about this too).  Christ I hope that’s not true.

Sarah, my friends, and I are just so tired of this.  We really want this to be over.  But as more and more people get involved, the less and less I am directly involved.  And my advocates are far less restrained than I.  Unlike the standard game of drawing the war out as long as possible to wear out your opponent, while I may run out of steam my advocates likely won’t.  But in final analysis none of this should be necessary.  I have a line of duty injury.  I expect proper treatment.  Is that really so crazy a request that it requires all of this?

It’s 3:40 a.m.  I haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.  I don’t have much energy normally, but even less lately.  There’s a lot to write about.  The world had the audacity to keep turning even during my on-the-fly vacation.  (That was a joke.)  I’ll try to be brief, for your sake and mine.

It’s official.  The Archbishop is filing a writ of mandamus in federal court on my behalf.  I’m very happy to have Bruce and the Old Catholic Church on my side.  Bruce has been a good friend and advocate in this struggle.  We promised to do this if no action were taken by the Guard or the Army to give me the medical care I need or the various moneys to which I’m entitled.  No action was taken.  We’re filing writ of mandamus, as promised.

Archbp. Simpson has also become involved with Jennifer Granholm’s office.  With the Archbp.’s involvement I’ve also managed to secure the assistance of a Michigan based civil rights organization.  Govenor Granholm’s staff promised to investigate the matter.  However, I don’t place much stock in government investigations, especially those that involve the head investigating the hand, so to speak.  But I do sense the seriousness of this matter isn’t lost on them, and I am certain they are aware of the consequences of inaction.

Carl Levin wrote the Adjutant General of the Michigan National Guard another letter asking for an update.  The AG’s office responded by telling Senator Levin that an Army colonel had been assigned to monitor my case.  That’s not really an answer to Senator Levin’s question.  In his next letter, decidedly more sternly voiced, he asked the Guard to be specific with what they have done to get me the care and benefits to which I’m entitled.  As they haven’t done anything to help me get either of those things, I’m waiting on bated breath for their response.  I’ve developed an affection and affinity for fiction (that’s a joke too, made to keep me from crying).

I found out that National Guardsmen and Reservists do not have prescription benefits, even for the treatment of line of duty injuries.  Guardsmen and Reservists are to pay for their prescriptions upfront, and submit forms and receipts for reimbursement from TriCare.  The problems with this are obvious to those of us who’ve used this system.  Prescriptions can be very expensive.  What if one can’t afford the upfront costs?  I’m guessing the government would say such a person has a choice: opt for a treatment you can afford (even if that treatment isn’t sufficient) or go untreated.  As well, submitting a request for reimbursement doesn’t guarantee reimbursement.  TriCare will deny requests for reimbursement justified by whole host of reasons, most as silly or sillier than those found in the worst insurance companies.  The point of this is twofold. 1) When a person enlists in the Guard or Reserves they’re told they have medical coverage if injured in the line of duty.  While one could make a legal argument this is true, de facto for those requiring prescription medicine to treat their injuries that statement isn’t true.  This should be explained to those enlisting so as to allow them to make an informed decision based on their rights and responsibilities and those of the service in which they’re enlisting.  2) This is a matter the federal government should address.  Our elected officials and the majority of their constituents in unison claim the troops deserve the best in medical coverage and treatment.  The will of our government and of the people and the realities of coverage and treatment are at best disparate.

Well shoot.  It’s 3:52.  I have to pick Sarah up from the airport at 6:55.  I guess I’ll just stay up.  (That’s me pretending I have a reason to be awake at this gross hour.  A reason other than pain and a heavy dose of opioids.)

I took a week off from this.  All of this.  I hung out with my step-daughter, my wife, my dogs, and my neighbors.  I unplugged the phone.  I didn’t read or watch the news.  I rarely checked my email.  After a year of doing this I felt a vacation of sorts was appropriate.  A semi-on-the-fly escape from the painful realities of my life.  The unlaid plans of mice and men….

Each morning I’d roll out of bed after what was basically a sleepless night to the warm embrace of severe pain caused by an untreated spinal cord injury.  More spinothalamic love on the 8-step trek from bed to bathroom.  Add emotional pain of incontinence or retention, depending on the day.  No matter how drugged up and tuned out I try to be, I can’t escape this bullshit.  This is what my life is going to be like now.  I will now, and likely forever will be, hypersensitive to and hyper-agitated by the harm military medicine and inept military/government bureaucracy have visited on my fellow service members and I.

I found the following link during my ‘vacation.’  http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,347010,00.html

It’s about VA employees with government credit cards spending $2.6 Billion on possibly inappropriate purchases.  Maybe that’s why the government has to drive down disability ratings.  They have big credit card bills to pay.  Enjoy.