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Once again, thank you all for the replies and support. I have a ton of private messages that I have to reply to as well. I really don't deserve all of this.
One break down I saw in my training to be a medic is that they make us think we can save all of them, or we should die trying. What they don't teach us is how to deal with the ones we can't save and how to live with that fact for the rest of your life. The military and VA is quick to throw happy pills at us and label us with PTSD, but unless you are pro active in your care, it stops there. With me, you throw in a traumatic brain injury to the mix, and that compounds how my PTSD effects me and how my medication does or doesn't works. The Army was quick to toss me by the wayside as defective and pawn me off on to the VA system. One big thing I have in my favor is my wife who has laid the smack down on more than one VA doctor and has gotten more results in a matter of months than I have been able to for years on my own. She has become my biggest advocate.
As much as I try to come off as some big tough guy with the tattoos and swearing and beard and attitude problem, I guess you guys aren't fooled. I will admit that I cried more than once with these replies and private messages. I tried to explain to the guys on the HT bear hunt how important it was to me, and now I will tell all of you how important this group has become to me. When I was wounded and sent back to the states, and subsequently retired, I lost my sense of identity and who and what I was. I was lost in the world. I was for 15 years I was a soldier, a medic, a part of a brotherhood that so few people could understand the importance of. Yes, I was a father and a son and husband and brother, but anyone can do that...just watch Jerry Springer. The military was something I was able to take pride in that less than 1% of Americans could every say that they did. The brotherhood and bond that forms is like no other, and knowing someone would take a bullet for you is a feeling that can't be replaced. Being called 'Doc' was something I held near and dear to my heart. So, now, here I am years later. Broken down, both mentally and physically, with no identity and pissed off at the world. I find this group and start posting, and I admit, my beginning was a bit rocky. Then, I got to talking to a couple of guys in PM and that was pretty cool. Next thing I know I'm planning a hunting trip with a couple of guys from here. Holy Shit!! So, over the years, I've continued to meet guys and go on hunts with guys and keep in touch with several outside of here. I was so nervous in meeting new people, but I did it. They accepted me as I am. I can't walk very far right now or do a lot of 'hunting' stuff, but they have accepted me, broken down and quirks and all. How in the hell did that happen?
So, now, I have an identity again. This might sound cheesy to some of you...but, I am a Hunt talker. I am a part of a group of guys and gals that may not always get along on every issue, but there is a common ground for all of us to be here for. You guys have gone above and beyond what this man deserves and I will never forget that, nor will I ever be able to repay it.
Thank you all....