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 When we walked in it smelled musky and looked very outdated.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 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.

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The beginning of a long journey

“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. “Why God? How can this be happening? What are we doing here?” were all questions floating through my head. But let me back this up a bit:

 Ryley, our middle son, enlisted in the army October, 2009. Cody, our oldest, returned from Bible College and joined August 2010 and by April 2011 both were deployed to Afghanistan. My heart felt the wait of worry for both my sons placed in harms way. When others mothers tried to comfort me and relate they would say things like, “I know how you feel, my son left for college and I worry about him all the time. I miss him. I cried when I dropped him off. I cried the whole drive home.” I would stand there blinking like a cartoon. In fact, I think you could hear the “Blink Blink” in my confused look. I wanted to yell at them and say things like, “Really?! Is your son at college being hunted? Is he trained to be keenly aware of IED’s (improvised explosion devices)? Do you drive home after work terrified to see a government vehicle in your drive way?” Instead, I would thank them for their prayers, and stuff my fear deep within.

One of the biggest heartaches I had, was feeling completely alone and being misunderstood or not understood at all.

 My nights were filled with crying out to God for our boys, for protection, angels to guard them, preserve them, keep them from harms way. Come July, I began to have horrible nightmares about Ryley being shot, injured or killed. I began to withdraw from my friends and just anchor deep to God and share my hearts cry with my husband and family.

 Even family had a hard time wrapping their minds around my giant fear and worries. Holly, you just got to trust God. They’re gonna be ok. God won’t let anything happen to them…But He did. God did allow something bad to happen. He did allow one to be hurt. He did allow danger to fall. I didn’t know how I was going to get through. I didn’t know how to live with this new Ryley. I didn’t know if I could walk this road God was asking me travel. One thing I did know though, God was for us.

 Whatever I had to face I would face it. I would confront the unknown, look darkness in the eye, charge toward my fears and go toe to toe with the US Army. This is our story of all the in-between: the injury, rehabilitation, anger, fear, little battles and big victories, healing, peace, a new life and a second chance. God did allow something awful to happen, but He also allowed the miracles to get us through.