Letter to a Stranger

I was moved by a writing prompt I read about this week. The suggestion was to write a letter to a stranger. The premise was that, at times, it can be easier to write an essay if you address it to a person. It can feel less formal and more like a conversation. (See The Isolation Journals if you’d like more information on the activity.) That made sense to me so I thought I’d give it a try as I began this week’s post.

Dear Veteran:

I met you about three years ago when I was working in the emergency room as an EMT. You came in to get help in the middle of the night. You shared you were a veteran, and by your age, I was able to determine you most likely served during the Vietnam War. Your clothes were dirty. You were thin and gaunt. You had decided to try to quit drinking again. Apparently you’d had other attempts but were not able to abstain from alcohol for any length of time. You came in to see us because you were afraid. You were afraid of the discomfort, sickness and danger of the detoxing process. I knew it was serious too. People often experience hallucinations, physical pain, depression, shaking and even death when they attempt to quit without medical assistance. It’s frightening.

I thought it was brave of you and I told you so. Quitting under the supervision of experts seemed like a wise plan. I had only worked in the emergency room for a year or two at that point and was naive to how the system worked. I learned, in our state, you have to be in active detox in order to be admitted to the hospital. You were not to that point yet so the doctor said you needed to either be admitted to a treatment center that provided detox services or you needed to go home and come back when you were ill and going through the process of physical withdrawals. The social worker came in to speak to you and informed you either your insurance didn’t cover the cost of those treatment services or there wasn’t anywhere in the area with an open bed- I’m not sure which. She offered you pamphlets from the VA and a listing of local AA meetings. Then you were discharged. You were teary, discouraged and frustrated when you put your soiled clothing back on and left.

I think of you often. I wonder what happened to you. I can’t imagine the fear you must have felt at not only giving up alcohol, which was most likely dulling emotional pain, possibly due to PTSD after bravely serving your country, but also at becoming physically ill or dying when it seemed there should be another option.

I thought about the support I received when I decided to quit drinking. People were rooting for me. Quitting was perceived as an act of courage, something to be celebrated. In contrast, you were going back to your home alone without encouragement or hope. Probably back to a cupboard full of alcohol that would keep your symptoms at bay.

I’d like to apologize to you on behalf of our country. I’m sorry you were put in a position of fighting for freedom when there clearly wasn’t going to be a winner. I’m sorry you were not celebrated when you came home. I’m sorry it was not considered acceptable for a man to talk about the trauma he experienced while at war. I’m sorry you had no other outlet than alcohol. I’m sorry that the alcohol probably destroyed any opportunities you had at meaningful relationships. And I’m sorry we don’t have a system that supports you in a safe way when you feel ready to make a change.

I hope I offered you a warm blanket, a little compassion, and some hope that you could succeed despite all the obstacles in your path. I haven’t forgotten you. In fact, you taught me a lesson. You showed me that my desire to comfort people emotionally is so strong that I needed to leave the emergency room and work in a behavioral health unit. You reinforced my belief that people need support. We can’t carry another’s burdens forever but we can scaffold their services to help them become more independent with each step. Sometimes that starts with holding them close and letting them know we’ve got their back until they’re strong enough to take that first baby step on their own. You also taught me that there’s never a bad time to offer someone a kind word or a little encouragement.

Thank you, sir. Thank you for your service.

Geva

10 Simple Ways to Support Veterans and Make a Difference is a quick read about simple acts you can do to support veterans in your area.

For those of you in the La Crosse, Wisconsin area, Horse Sense offers equine-assisted therapy to veterans. They’ve seen some amazing results.

The Cleveland Clinic has a resource on the dangers of alcohol withdrawal.

Finally, SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) has a national helpline for those interested in quitting an addictive substance.