I should have gotten that coffee

If you are just joining my journey, you may want to go back and read my previous post. 

Ry was released from the ER and was sent back to his barracks to prepare to leave for MENTIS, the neurological rehab facility, the next day. The plan was to have dinner together that night, but after such a long and emotional day, Ry just wanted to go back to the barracks and sleep. Our dinner plans changed but I completely understood. As I was getting in my rental car to leave for the Fisher House, I was greeted by a young sergeant. I could tell that this man was filled with compassion for Ryley.

 Although he believed Ryley to be mentally ill, he was kind and genuinely cared about my son. When speaking with him, I was able to bring him up to speed as to what was actually going on with Ry. He was surprised and could not believe it wasn’t documented in his file at the WTB. He then went on to describe Ryley’s living situation and the struggle they had had with him the past few weeks. Ryley had been trying to maneuver through all the rigid structure of the army, with a TBI, and with no help from his leadership. My heart ached; the army dropped the ball with my son. He was not being treated for his injury but was being treated for the mental illness and seizure disorder, therefore, he was not being cared for correctly. It was shameful, to say the least. This sergeant was sincerely apologetic and wanted the best for Ry. The soldiers concern played a high note for such a low day.

It was one emotional first day. Leaving Ryley was hard but I knew he was safe now.  I went back to the Fisher House, ate a cup of soup and called Joe to share my day with him. We prayed together, said good night and I cried myself to sleep.

The next day I met up with Ryley and his sergeant to take a tour of Mentis. We all rode together to the facility. It was an old building and seemed run down. Half of the building was dedicated assisted living and the other half the rehab facility. When we walked in it smelled musky and looked very outdated. My first thought was, “This can’t be it”. We met with the administrator, who was amazing. He had a genuine heart for our wounded warriors and showed much compassion. Okay, it was getting better. He then gave us a piece of paper with the different types of symptoms for head traumas. As the sergeant and I read the long list we were amazed, Ry had every single one of them. The sergeant couldn’t believe that the WTB didn’t have a list like this for him and other leaders, so he took a few extra copies to give to those who oversaw the wounded warriors and the barracks. We then all toured the building.

“What a dive!” was all I could think. One of the ladies from the office must have been able to read my expression, because she came over to me to assure me the building was old but the treatment was modern. I sat down feeling overwhelmed and a little bit sick. I silently prayed “Any day now God, You can swoop in and make it all better”. The administrator assistant continued to try to reassure me that this was best for Ryley but I wasn’t convinced. What was best for Ry was for him to come home and be treated near his family, but we still had no word on this situation. Trust me though, I didn’t drop it. I was a thorn in the side of the army base and they would soon be anxious to be rid of me.  

We finished the tour and then went to Starbucks. Ryley promised his sergeant a Java Chip and he wanted one as well. I declined, if anybody knows me they know I don’t say no to coffee, so when I do, it’s serious.

We went back to the WTB.  Ry was squirrely and anxious from the days excitement, so we sat in the parking lot at the barracks chatting about the day. He then began to ask his sergeant question on how to deal with certain memories. Memories that no mother wants her child to have; recalling the war with a wounded brain and PTSD is a toxic combination.

Just when we thought things were calming down, the storm was stirred again. This time it wasn’t a seizure or erratic behavior, this mood brought out the incredible hulk. The rage and heartache that came thundering out of him made me want to gather him up and hold him as tightly as possible. Unfortunately Ryley’s frame of mind was inconsolable. We all had to stand back as he boiled with rage, screaming at the top of his lungs and then weep from the deepest part of his being. As I watched my son slam his fist into a metal sign over and over again, all of his superiors just stood back and let him rage. They were accustomed to soldiers coming back with this type of anger and heartbreak. However, I was not accustomed to seeing my son in such torment. I tried with all my might to hold the tears in as I stood by helplessly. The young men watched as I attempted bravery. They were concerned and were trying to comfort me. I wanted none of it. I just wanted God to reach down from heaven and stop it all. Tears ran down my face in hot streams and all the will power in the world couldn’t stop them.

I felt like I was in a dream and it was somebody else’s life I was living. One of the sergeants came by and asked if I was going to be alright. “Peachy!” I said with sarcasm. He assured me that it was good for Ry to get this junk out of him. This was the same young man who also related with Ryley as he shared his war stories. Ryley calmed down and slumped by the sign he had been beating and continued to weep. We all stood watch and waited for the right time to approach him. The storm passed for now and the other soldiers rallied around Ryley, helped him up and kept the conversation light. They asked how his hand was, if he needed something to drink. They tried anything to distract him…anything to help him not think about the pain.

We found ourselves at the emergency room again. Ry had broken a few knuckles with is fight with the sign. After some x-rays, we had a few hours of waiting to do (I should’ve had that coffee). They wrapped his had and we were sent on our way. He was calm for now. We had dinner together and went back to the Fisher house to watch a little TV. It was quiet at the house. We hung out for a little while and played a few games on the iPad, which was a great distraction from the heavy day. I then drove him back to the WTB. Tomorrow he would check into Mentis. Oh how I wanted to just keep him with me and protect him, to make it all better. How I longed for the days when ear aches and high fevers were the biggies that had us walking the halls. When first days of school and letting them drive for the first time alone was the process of learning to let go.

The reality of it all sunk in deep and quick. The army was going to decide his care and I would soon find out their decision on his transfer to Washington. But let me say this: Parents are often left out of their wounded warriors care. Invade it anyway. Do not let a “NO” stop you from pounding on the door and making some noise. My fist was getting ready for some door pounding, and Captains and Generals were going to listen. I made sure of it.

 God didn’t make all this go away; He gave me courage to charge forward. He didn’t snap his fingers and end the pain; He gave me peace in the midst of it. When I was feeling lonely and frightened in this new territory, He sent friends to bear it with me. I would soon meet two other mothers who related to the fear, sleepless nights and worry. I would connect with families who were fighting for their children and their healing. It would be the first time since Cody and Ryley enlisted, that I didn’t feel alone as a mom. And it would be the first time somebody understood the journey. 

The Green Felt Pen

When we returned home from El Paso, we strategized how we were going to help Ry. I was winding up for a fight. It was a war that injured my son at it would be a war getting him home. I really had no idea what I was getting into. One doesn’t just walk into the Army like Moses did with Pharaoh and say let my people go: Although that would have been pretty sweet. This battle was new to me. I needed to hear Gods word and precise direction as how to battle in this new territory. On paper, the Army owned Ryley. However, Ryley was bought and paid for by the Blood of the Lamb and marked by heaven long before the Army “owned” him. This was the authority I would be walking in when treading on unknown ground and standing before high ranking officers and Generals.

We were in constant communication with Ryley. We planned my next visit a few short weeks later. Putting our ducks in a row, I took a leave of absence from my job and Joe would stay back and work as I began the long journey of advocating for Ryley and his care. This meant I would be alone wrestling the unknown.

Family pulled their resources and helped send me back to Texas. We were on such a tight budget; I packed food from home and lived on canned soup and apple juice. I flew into El Paso once again and settled into the Fisher House and then went straight to the hospital for a meeting. The timing of my first day was unexplainably divine. While I was at the hospital meeting with the patient advocate, I got word Ryley was being brought into the emergency.

I was terrified, I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see. Ryley was wildly out of control and seemed to be having what everybody thought to be a mental breakdown. They brought him to a room and I followed along, gleaning as much information from his sergeant as I could. He was on constant 24 watch and all his superiors believed Ryley to be insane. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everything seemed like a whirlwind. I then spoke up while the ER doctor was in the room. “Are any of you aware that Ryley has a head trauma?!” the room went quiet. I had there attention. I then explained to them what we knew and advised them to check Ryley’s chart. His TBI was documented but not all that is documented is read or even paid attention to, and I was finding this out more times than I cared.

I shared with his sergeant and the ER what Ryley informed us of when we visited him last time.

_________________________________________________________

The injury

While Ryley was deployed he was working on a truck when a large artillery shell fell, weighing what we were told around 60-90 lbs and hit him on the head. Ryley was working on the back tire when it fell. It cut his right front lobe and rung his bell, made him dizzy but did not knock him out. Therefore no incident report was filed. Shortly after the injury the seizures started as well as migraines and the personality change. Because he was told at the Kandahar hospital his problems were not due to a head trauma he believed he was going crazy.

_________________________________________________________

As they researched his medical records they saw the report of the head trauma from the MRI. This information would change Ryley’s care and the way they would view him.  They were treating him as if he was an uncontrollable soldier who lost his mind. My what a little research can do…

I was at a boiling point for my son but was not able to explode. You see, I was in the room with Ryley who was clearly not himself. I had to bring peace to the room. I was finally left alone with him while the doctors made phone calls and began to actually manage his care. At last I was able to pray like a mother, quietly of course. One of the hardest prayers of my life was releasing Ryley to God to take him home if it meant preserving his soul. My son was all over the board with anger, suicide, depression, fear and a confusion that was heart wrenching to watch.

I felt Gods peace fall in the tiny hospital room. As Ry calmed down, we chatted about little things, I drew on his arm with a green felt pen coloring in his tattoo, It seemed to quiet him. The room was finally still and the gentle touch of the pen along with my whispered prayer, ushered in the presence of God. It reminded me of the time when he was two and pulled a mirror down on himself and cut his chubby cheek. The nurses had to wrap him in a papoose where only his cheek was exposed. I had to get down on my knees so he could see me out of the corner of his eye. I sang “Jesus loves me” to calm his scared little toddler heart.

Well, here I was again on my knees, praying for God to calm his heart. And just like that time when he was little, Gods perfect peace spilled from heaven and comforted our souls.  

What seemed liked hours was really only 30-40 minutes when the doctor came back and asked me to meet with him. “Mrs. Ruddock?” “Yes” I said with hesitation. “We would like to admit your son to a neurological rehabilitation hospital.” I sat in the archaic army hospital chair trying to soak it all in. “What does that mean?” I asked. The answer: It was a rehabilitation center for soldiers with head traumas and PTSD. Could it be we were on the right track that was going to be the start of proper care? Only time would tell.

The Long Drive

By the first of September, Ry left Germany and was sent to El Paso, Texas for further care and evaluation. When he arrived he called us from the hospital. He did not sound like our Ryley and we were still confused as to what was going on.  He was having several seizures a day and the root of them was unclear. He stayed in the hospital a few more days while they ran test and then was sent to the WTB (Warriors Transitional Barracks) in Fort Bliss. 

We began to make plans to go to El Paso. Ry told us he would have results from his test’s October tenth (dates is not exact). We left in our little rabbit and headed across country, Washington to Texas. One stop in Utah for the night and we were in El Paso by night fall the next day.  We were parents on a mission.

We went to the hospital the next morning to meet Ryley. We hadn’t seen him since last Christmas. It was a tearful reunion to say the least. We chatted with him for a while trying to figure out what was going on and to evaluate for ourselves the situation. We then all met with the neurologist and discussed the findings of the test.

Ryley did have a head injury. The MRI showed trauma to his frontal lobe. This explained the personality change and the unexpected moods swing but they were unclear if the TBI was the cause of the seizures. That would require more testing.  They had him on high levels of anti seizure medication along with mood enhancement meds.  He was a mess physically, mentally and spiritually.

We spent the day and evening with him and then dropped him off at the WTB and we went to the Fisher House (housing for families who military families are in the hospital, sort of like a Ronald McDonald house). We were so grateful for the accommodations, it was a free place to stay and we needed all the help we could get. The Fisher house would soon become a frequent place for me to stay while advocating for Ryley and where I would meet two incredible mothers.

We carried our bags to our room and we quietly settled ourselves in. Our hearts were so heavy. The worst part of all of all of this was we were helpless in the situation. The Army was in charge of Ryley and they decided his care. I wanted to gather him up and take him home. I knew he needed his family if he was going to get back to himself. The people of Fort Bliss didn’t know who Ryley was before his injury so how could they possibly gage what was needed to get him back to normal. This would be the argument I would use to fight for his treatment and his transfer, which I will share later.

We spent 3 days with Ryley and in those 3 days we met with doctors, sergeants, captains, nurse case managers and Army administration. We requested Ryley be sent to Fort Lewis in Washington so he could be close to family as he recovered. I explained that with his injury he needed to be near family and friends that knew the old Ryley. That as much as I respected the care providers at Fort Bliss, they could never help Ry become himself if they didn’t know “who” that exactly was.

Nothing is easy when dealing with the Army and its administration. Everything we requested had to go through hoops, loops and quite possibly Saturn’s rings. Paperwork had to be filled out, the transfer had to be approved and in the mean time, we just had to wait.

The answers were not going to come while we were there this time. We had to leave Ryley and head back to Washington. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. This was MY son who needed me, how can I leave? My heart was tethered to Ry; I felt sick departing but knew our hands were tied. Plus, we still had two children at home, Sydney, who was attending college at the time and Jessey who was in High School.

None of this was fair for any of us. As my advocating for Ry’s transfer would get more aggressive, Syd would eventually drop out of college to help around the house and get Jes to and from school. Let’s just say the mom guilt was piling on! My heart and head was on overload. Cody was still deployed and worried about his brother. This caused us concern because he needed his mind focused on his job. We were worried about the two kids at home, although they were old enough to leave, Syd could not play mom forever. Jessey had swim meets, youth group and activities; we needed to go home, but how did we leave our son who needed us? We prayed hard and put all our trust and faith in our Heavenly Father and headed the long trek back to Washington. My legs felt like lead as we walked to our car. Add the heavy heart and giant concern and I was one weighty anvil that was sinking in an ocean of trepidation. It was the longest drive of my life. If crying burned calories I should’ve been a size six by the time we arrived home...to be continued.

Follow our journey.at http://motherofmilitary.blogspot.com/

The Phone Call

It started with a Facebook post from Ryley, around the second week of August 2011 that read.” I just had a seizure. That was weird.” 

The last time we spoke with Ry, was around the first of August and he sounded a little strange. He was talking about memories that weren’t his but his brother’s. He was angry, frustrated and confused. I asked if he was OK but he just brushed it off.  Then to read this post on his Facebook page a few days later terrified me. Something was wrong, but what?  It wouldn’t be until August 18^th that I would speak with Ryley.

I will never forget the phone call. It was a summer day in Washington.  I was working at a church at the time when Ryley called. I ran outside so I could speak with him privately. He sounded discombobulated and agitated. He was calling from the hospital in Kandahar, Afghanistan where he was medically evacuated due to grand maul seizures. From what I gathered he and the doctors were unsure as to why he was having the seizures. I asked, “Ry, did you hit your head?” he said, “Yeah, something fell on it, but they don’t think that is the cause of the seizures.”  We chatted a few more minutes before he had to go, When I got off the phone with Ry, I was more confused and afraid. I went into the sanctuary and cried out to God. I wept so hard and so heavy my body hurt. I explained to one of our pastor what was going with Ry and shared what little information I had. He then prayed with me and sent me home for the day. I called Joe and told him all that I had heard from Ry. It was a waiting game now.

While he was in Kandahar he continued to have the seizures. He spent a month or so in the Kandahar Air force Base (KAF) hospital being treated and undergoing test. They then sent him to Germany around the first week of September, which was the first time we spoke with an Army doctor.  It was late at night when the German Hospital called. The doctor informed us that Ryley’s symptoms and seizures were classic signs of a head trauma. I didn’t understand, Ry said they didn’t think it was a head trauma. Now this doctor is telling us it one. The confusion grew and so did our frustration. What in the world was going on? And why wasn't the Army informing us of everything? The answers would slowly unfold and they broke my heart.
_____________________________________________________-

I’ve heard it said once, “You’re only as happy as your saddest child.” This statement screams volumes to me. The range of emotions that were flooding me, was a direct result as to what I perceived in Ryley; sorrow, anger and fear.

 The TBI was just the tip of the iceberg. As a mom I wanted to make it all better but I couldn’t kiss this boo boo away. Yes, time does heal all wounds, but it takes more than time to heal a broken spirit or a troubled mind. Those types of wounds require the Creator of time. The Prince of Peace. The Comforter and Oh how we needed him.

 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. Psalm 34:18 NLT

 It was Ryley’s crushed spirit that had me anxious and it would be an atmosphere of peace that would be the healing balm on a shattered heart. 

When Worry is Big and Your Faith is Small

When Cody and Ryley were on deployment I wasn’t sure what to expect or feel. As I mentioned before, this was new territory that we were pioneering. My husband and I would talk out our emotions and plan how to keep our eyes up and our hearts encouraged. It would be a lot harder than I thought.

Cody was better at keeping in touch with us than Ry. As a combat engineer, he would go out on missions and come back to his FOB and Skype us or shoot us a private message. Ryley, however, was infantry. Although he joined as a mechanic, his job was changed to mortar man and then to infantry. He would be out on mission as well but was unable to communicate with us as often as Cody did. It drove me crazy!  

One strategy Joe and I did practices was the quoting of scriptures over them, not just any scripture, we prayed passages of safety, covering and protection; we would plead the blood of Jesus over them and their brothers. Cody would share with us bits and pieces of how God protected him and his unit. There was a time when they were doing route clearance and after about 300 yard passed the area an IED exploded. He said it was as if an angel held the detonator down until they were all out of harms way. There are more stories of Gods protection I would love to share but I can’t. But believe me; I knew God was watching over my sons, but my faith would have strong days and weak days.  I was like the father in Mark nine asking the Lord for a miracle. He brought the heaviest burden of his heart and hoped with all his being that Jesus would heal his son if he could.  I love the way Jesus answer this father,

“What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.” The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief! Mark 9: 23-25 NLT

I entirely understand this daddy. It takes all the faith he can muster to believe in something he has hoped and longed for but never quite seen. To dismiss all his disappointment and just let faith take the lead, is easy to say but not easy to do. To hope beyond the impossible and wait for God to perform a miracle isn’t natural, it’s supernatural. His words, “Lord I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief.” make more sense if you have ever faced the impossible and held out for God to do as he promised. When you have literally slid down to the end of your rope and you are hanging on by vapors; it is more God holding you than you holding on.

My faith walk was on a tight rope and I needed more rope and a giant net underneath me, because I was certain I would fall.  "Lord I believe, help my unbelief".  I wanted to be stronger than I actually was. I wanted to be faith filled. But what I've learned in all of this was grace was just as importand to have as faith.

Sometimes we think more faith is needed, but in essence we need to give ourselves grace during the hard times. What this Military Mom journey has tought me is trusting God is extremely important but when worry is big and your faith is small, His Grace will see you through to another day.