The Crisis in Veterans' Healthcare
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Zollie Goodman was promised that he and his family would have medical coverage when he joined the Navy. But when his pregnant wife started bleeding and thought she was miscarrying, the base hospital refused to send an ambulance, and refused to treat her when she arrived in a friend’s car because it was almost closing time. She lost the baby.
After Goodman was discharged, when he asked for treatment for PTSD, he was offered an appointment in three months. When he found out that the law guarantees no more than a 30-day wait, he was given one 30 days later, at which a doctor prescribed three drugs and said there was no way to tell which might work. His own research revealed that all three are associated with suicidal thoughts. Now, Goodman has a 15-minute therapy appointment every 30 days. When he arrives, he finds 15 Vietnam Vets waiting with him, all with the same 8 am appointment.
During his tour of duty in Iraq in 2003, Marine Corps reservist Eric Estenzo suffered a non-combat-related back injury. The thorough and prompt treatment Estenzo received back at Camp Pendleton in California lived up to his trust in the VA health care system. After his honorable discharge in 2005, Estenzo had no reason to believe that the system wouldn’t continue to take care of him. As his injury lingered, however, Estenzo faced repeated brush-offs, bureaucratic hurdles, and redundant paperwork. The adjustment to civilian life was also proving to be unexpectedly challenging. Estenzo’s savings dried up as meaningful employment eluded him and he suffered a nervous breakdown. Before too long, he found himself bordering on homelessness on the streets of Los Angeles. Thanks to support from fellow veterans, Estenzo is back on his feet but still struggles with a system that has undermined his faith in the U.S. military.
Eli Wright, an active duty solder at Fort Drum, was injured in the back and neck in a vehicle accident in Iraq and then injured again in the shoulder during physical training back in the United States. He had minimal care—mostly Motrin—even after he developed symptoms of traumatic brain injury such as memory loss, headaches, and dizziness. He finally got proper care at Fort Drum two days after he spoke to the media. “Soldiers are afraid to speak out, but it’s most important that they start speaking out about that,” he says. “It has worked for me. Don’t keep it quiet.”
“We stepped up to serve our country, and we haven’t asked for a whole lot in return. But proper healthcare should be at a bare minimum what we’re entitled to.”
In her decade of military service, Adrienne Kinne noticed a significant decline in the quality of health care provided by the Veteran Administration. Prior to the Iraq War, an end-of-service physical, for example, was routine. At the end of 2003, as she completed her duty in the army reserve, Kinne was discouraged from requesting such a physical. She finished her education and landed a job at a VA hospital where she worked with a research unit examining post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury. Believing that the VA system should pledge to serve the needs of all returning veterans, she was shocked to hear that plans to develop a screening mechanism for traumatic brain injuries was scuttled due to lack of “resources.” Kinne believes that the system lacks a commitment to preventative health care, although, she adds, the best preventive plan is to avoid sending service men and women to fight in “illegal occupations in the first place.”
Joyce and Kevin Lucey, parents of Jeffrey Lucey, who committed suicide after returning, describe the last months of his life and his unsuccessful efforts to get help from the Veterans Administration.
Jeffrey was a Marine convoy driver stationed in Iraq for five months at the start of the war.
After he came back, he told his girlfriend he had done immoral things. “I’ve seen and done enough horrible things to last a lifetime,” he said to her.
Jeffrey told his sister he was a murderer. He wore the dog tags of two Iraqi soldiers for whose death he felt responsible. He wore the tags to honor the two.
Shortly before he killed himself, Jeffrey asked his father to take him in his lap and rock him, and his father did.
After he died, his parents found a note that read, “I am truly embarrassed of the man I became and I hope you can try to remember me only as a child when I was happy, proud, and enjoyed life.” He was 23.
Eugene Martin is a staffer for the American Federation of Government Employees, which represents many Veterans Administration employees. He says the uncertainty of funding undermines the efforts of VA staff to help veterans. Each year, he says, Congress fails to appropriate money on time, and instead passes continuing resolutions with funds for a month or two, which makes planning and filling vacancies very hard. What’s more, funds intended for medical treatment are sometimes diverted to other uses.
Tod Ensign, director of Citizen Soldier and author of America’s Military Today, cites a March 6 Army report that the rate of mental illness and PTSD among soldiers in their third or fourth Iraq tours is one in three.
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