When he began to scream and swing his arms wildly, his wife was by his side as always to soothe him but her melodic voice fell on deaf ears this time. She had been through the aftermath of his torments but even she was scared as he ripped at his clothes and hair. He would have knocked her to the floor with his convulsions had the safety belt not protected her frail body from his reaches.
Usually, when their eyes met, he would remember she was not the enemy. She could talk him down from any ledge with her devotion and love. But that was not possible at this moment. They were strapped in at 10,000 feet elevation, above a volcano, inside a helicopter with four other people.
The pilot calmly maneuvered back to the helipad as the others did their best to prevent this large man from gaining access to the only thing keeping them alive. Radioing for help, they safely landed as the ambulance crew swiftly moved in.
“Help them! Help them!” he cried as sweat poured from his body. He was clutching his head and began to vomit as they coaxed him onto the stretcher.
When I reached for the chart that read “altered mental status” the nurse gave me a look of warning that this seemed to indicate a psychiatric problem. Cautiously approaching the frightened man with the head full of silver hair, I introduced myself as his ER doctor.
“Do you know what happened, sir?” I softly asked.
“I don’t remember, but they say I had a flashback,” he whispered with his raspy agent orange damaged voice.
“Has this happened before?” I questioned.
“Not this bad,” as he nodded holding his head down shamed by his inability to control his actions.
“Were you in the military?” touching his shoulder.
“Vietnam,” replying as he took a deep breath.
“I was a helicopter pilot.”
“I flew the medevac.”
Squeezing my lips together as tight as possible seemed to help slow the tears that had begun to form. I took a moment. I couldn’t speak. The flash in my own mind of the unimaginable wounded men, the horror, the screams, and the terror he must have endured swept through my brain quickly like the panoramic movies I had seen. That’s all I really knew of Vietnam. And he had just relived it all.
I gave up holding back the tears as the nurse looked away from me trying to protect her own eyes from welling.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you for your service. I can’t begin to imagine what you have witnessed and how you have suffered. It is our honor to take care of you.”
He smiled, sadly, but he smiled.
It gave me pause. And I felt my compassion grow.
We never truly walk in the shoes of another’s traumas. But we do walk in our own. And we all have triggers that will arise when we least expect. Most won’t be as dramatic as this vacation helicopter ride in paradise. But it doesn’t make them any less important.
And having compassion and understanding for ourselves instead of shame will only help heal those wounds.
Surrounding ourselves with the type of support that can love us unconditionally despite ourselves, like this man’s wife is also a blessing. Don’t forget to thank the ones that sometimes take the brunt of our pain.
And, when we feel we are being personally attacked by another that has clearly been triggered by their own personal terrors, it might be wise to simply remember this dear veteran.
We will never understand completely the depth of another’s agony and sometimes not even our own. But we can try to send as much love and understanding as we can within our own personal boundaries. Healing can then begin.
Image: Pixabay.com
