Bertha,
I should add, my husband never once went to a VA hospital. He worked in the field, and, they did a mini test in the office, and, his blood pressure came up high. Higher than normal, and told to see his own Doctor. So, he did. This doctor failed him. My husband went to him thereafter, so many times for an eye problem. Which in hindsight was the BP. Long story with him. AND, oh, I tried to make this man/doctor accountable to no avail.
His shingle is still hanging which bothers me. I tried to enact, Tim's Law. Making it mandatory that at each doctor visit no matter the given reason, the BP would be taken. I had help with a senator. I had 3 George Washington's Lawyers, and interns writing up a mission statement. Then, it was decided that most doctors take the BP, not so.... at all.
I wanted Tim not to die in vain. It was at his autopsy it was concluded that agent orange caused the heart problem, hence, the BP. And, of course, our sons birth defects which we never connected to AO. Until, after his death.
My dad who fought in WW2, the European Campaign, in Anzio he was injured, told me all my life I was " headstrong." Well, back in 98, after seeing my parents die from cancer, most of my family, I really had no hopes in winning this battle either.
We had just bought out house. And, I was shortly, thereafter, diagnosed. With HD, yet. Wrong cancer. Wrong drugs. For 18 months. I was not going to fight it. I was laying a rug in the boy's room, and then, while laying it thinking, " is this going to be the last thing i do for my kids?" It was found on my heart. As well other places. Then, when all done, I stood back by the closet door and thought, " no, this is not going to be the last thing i do for my kids, they need me, a mom."
So, I sat in that pink chemo chair. And, sat in the pink chemo chair... for a total of five years and 3 months.
I grew up listening to my dad's war stories. And, how he was " shell-shocked." And, I remembered him, pointing to his head,saying, " don't dig a fox hole up here." And, not sure what that meant. Ever. But, that first time sitting in that pink chemo chair, I said..." dad this is for you." and, when it got bad, where, the drugs hurt, or made me feel like a drunk, I thought of my dad in Anzio. That young man who lied about his age, 16 to fight for his country.
I would fight for my kids. So, they had this woman they called, mom.
I learned alot about PTSD. Probably, more than I choose to know. I got it. I got it from fighting cancer. And the shock of finding Tim. But, I deal with it. And, it is really hard on somedays, even years later.