With This Ring, I Thee Become a Caregiver

Recently, Sam and I celebrated our first year anniversary. The traditional gift is paper, so I wrote a letter and we celebrated in Nashville, Tennessee. We went with the paper tradition and bought tickets for tours of the Ryman Auditorium and the Grand Ole Opry. It was a nice “day-cation” and we wished it could have lasted longer.

When we said our vows, we promised to love, honor, and cherish one another until death do us part. We stand beside one another through thick and thin. I watched Sam go through the retirement process from the military and I saw him leave a life of service to his nation and step into a life of serving others–serving Veterans.

Often times I see him in this role of Peer Counselor and he shines. He knows how to communicate with Veterans who are from different eras, he knows the ins and outs of the VA–he can help with appointments, he can listen, and he can be a peer where he can sometimes swap a war story or two. Most importantly, he enjoys his work despite the lack of leadership and communication with the “higher-ups” that surround him. He genuinely enjoys helping Veterans.

During our journey I have witnessed some difficult moments for this now retired soldier. I have seen breakdowns, moments were sheer anger and grief take over and tears come out. Sam does not cry because at one time that was a sign of weakness, something that you just did not do in the military—but every so often, the tears come and it is frustrating for him. I’ve been beside him when he gets a phone call or text that one of his soldiers took his life or died in an accident. There’s heartache and there’s questioning “why?”

I find myself asking questions like, “did you lock the door?” “is the garbage out for pick up?” “do you have Memphis’s leash?” “where’s your wallet?” and “did you take your medicine?”  Situations like this happen daily because Sam’s memory sometimes fails him. He gets annoyed when he can’t remember something like grabbing his wallet because he’s leaving for work, or taking his ID badge to get in the building, and usually a text, phone call, or quick stop to pick it up fixes the situation.

Doctor visits, outpatient procedures, therapy visits and trips to the pharmacy (all through the VA) are commonalities that we experience. This is our battle–healthcare. In our time together I’ve had to help Sam get back on his feet after having a massive kidney stone removed. I’ve talked to doctors who don’t use “regular words,” but speak in medical terms and words that I can’t even pronounce, I’ve butted heads with doctors over his care, and I’ve come to realize that there are some good folks in the VA when we visit with Dr. Thompson. I go into “Mama Bear” mode with him just as I do our children because I want to make sure he’s getting the proper care he needs, and I don’t want him to just be another patient at the VA.

Sometimes our battle takes us to the front lines of sleepless nights, nightmares, panic attacks, frustration, anger, sadness, depression, and moments of just not caring. We’re equipped with the tools and “weapons” to take PTSD head on, and we aren’t backing down. We’ve loaded up on education, tools, and we’ve even got a secret weapon, Memphis.

The vows we took on that beautiful June evening with the sun setting behind us on the white sandy beach mean so much. I didn’t realize that with the “I do,” I became “caregiver,” a title that I am still adjusting to and realizing means so much. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I was asked if it is overwhelming or hard doing what I do—and realized that I’m not alone. Sometimes this duty is demanding for Post 9/11 caregivers as they juggle other responsibilities and duties that are often associated with family and career. I’m lucky to have met some wonderful people, even a fellow colleague, caregiver, and friend who “just gets it” and is a great source of support, strength, and hope.

With our vows, we promised to love one another, cherish one another, and always be true. I may not have earned combat patches, but I walk alongside my husband, my best friend, my Veteran in boots as we battle the effects of post-war life. I walk alongside Sam to the VA for appointments, to various meetings and engagements where we can share our story in hopes that it provides hope or education for others. We’re on a mission of hope and healing–ways to inspire others who may need help–who may need a listening ear and a cheerleader.

Our wedding day–perfect. A day out and about (Day-Date)–so fun. Our first date–a concert that was incredibly overwhelming for Sam. These moments are perfect. These are some of my favorite pictures of us.