In the service of others

Time Heals all wounds?

It’s a silly utterance isn’t it? Time healing wounds. Anyone who has a close relationship with a wounded service member knows this to be utter fallacy. Time has nothing to do with the healing of wounds. Some wounds, will never be healed. Some will get better with time, but never go away, some will fester, become infected, septic, some will grow, and become wounds in other people.

Some wounds are contagious, Some are inherited. Some can always be seen - The loss of a limb, the scars left by third degree burns. Some are hidden, some scars don’t show up in the daylight. The scar of divorce papers, because the man who came back wasn’t the man who left. The nearly empty bottle of oxycodone, because the VA doesn’t know how to treat whatever is wrong with you and the pain is too much to handle, and the narcotics don’t even touch the sides of it.

The email alert on your phone that tells of another brother or sister, becoming a causality of war long after their war was over. The gaping hole left by friendships that were ended. Because they couldn’t understand what you’d been through and wanted to talk about the college football game, fishing next week, The high school reunion.

They don’t understand you anymore, and you’re glad of it, because wishing them to understand you would be the same as wishing they’d faced what you faced and you love them too much for that. So you let them go.

The even bigger hole left by friendships that were ended because they know all too well what you’ve been through, and now all you could talk about was the fallen, the injured, the broken, because when it comes down to it, that’s all you have in common anymore. Now that friendship hurts too much so you call on veterans day, you chat for 7 minutes, and your nightmares return for a week not that they ever really went anywhere, they just seem to be in color again now.

I was asked to write this blog today, with something hopeful, uplifting, something to give our readers a smile. Something that wouldn’t set heavy on the heart of our followers that don’t know the life injured veterans and their caregivers live every day.

Because it does seem like it’s a waking nightmare when you read it from the outside. And sometimes, it feels like it from the inside too. But sometimes isn’t all the time. If you’ve read our blog before you may have come across one of my previous posts talking about my Husband Jim. If you have not, I will give you a brief background.

Jim was injured during his tour of Iraq in 2004. He was shot between the eyes, and as a result he has a TBI and PTSD. (I’ve said that exact explanation enough times now it’s as easy as saying my own birthdate).

Jim has a lot of invisible wounds. And time is not healing them. People are. Jim will never be the man he was before he deployed, but he is becoming a wonderful man in his own right. When Jim and I were married in 2008, I knew that our marriage would start with a fair bit of baggage. Loving someone with a Traumatic brain injury isn’t easy. Soothing someone with PTSD will turn you prematurely grey.

When we were first married Jim’s contact with his family was limited, his friendships strained, his existence was a pretty quiet one. He suffered bouts of depression, anxiety, mania, self-loathing you wouldn’t believe from a man that always comes across as confident (to the point of arrogance mind you) He believed in God, but was pretty sure that God no longer believed in him.

When Jim left basic training in 2001 he weighed in at 180lbs. Not bad for being 6ft 1. 4 years after being medically discharged from the Army because of his wounds Jim weighed in at 350lbs.
When you no longer feel yourself worthy you stop treating yourself as if you are worthy. Statistics from the VA state that 80% of veterans are now considered over weight. That’s a blog for another time, but those numbers are huge when you take into consideration that these men and woman were once the best trained our country had to offer.

He stopped leaving the house if it could be avoided, his VA appointments went by the wayside. Drive thru was the best invention known to man. If he wasn’t happy with what his life had become he was certainly comfortable with it, and comfort was the best he thought he could hope for.

Now, if we left it there this wouldn’t be the uplifting blog I was asked to write would it? I’m not feeling very uplifted myself right now. But it is, I swear, bear with me.

Jim’s wounds had been covered up for so long, they had begun to turn inwards, instead of healing they were going in deeper. They weren’t just invisible anymore, they were soul deep.

But then came people. People Jim had no interest what so ever in having anything to do with. Why would people care what happened to Jim? No one else had cared what happened to Jim. His friends and family didn’t know who he was now, they didn’t know how to handle him, so they left him to his own devices. That’s not to say they didn’t love him, They did, and do, they just didn’t know what they could do. 

Mark Ketcham And Jim Batchelor

So, along came people, the first of which was a man named Mark Ketcham. A quiet man, getting on his years, white hair, glasses, and a drive that would put any teenager to shame. I would say he was a bit like a bulldog with a bone, but honestly, he was a Jack Russell with a chew toy, and he wasn’t letting it go.

As part of the National Organization on disability, Mark’s job was to help injured veterans in the North East Texas area with anything he thought they might need. His work load was huge, his hours were long, and his spirit never faltered. There were these men and woman who felt forgotten and he made it his personal mission to ensure that they knew there was a place in the world for them.

For every time Jim turned Mark away he came back twice, until eventually Jim let him inside, and suddenly there was purpose. Mark took Jim everywhere. If he needed a poster child, Jim was it. Three times to Washington DC. Jim attended the re-signing of the Americans with Disabilities act, testified before the state arms committee, and got kicked out of the white house for taking photographs (twice) and then Mark started introducing Jim to other groups.

The most important one being the Coalition to Salute Americas Heroes (but if you’re reading this blog you already knew that right?) and Jim got to attend his very first Road to Recovery and suddenly, where there had been 2 people, there was a dozen people in Jim’s life. And that dozen became two dozen, and they knew only new Jim, Veteran Jim, they didn’t expect him to be anything he wasn’t and they understood the struggles that he faced, because they faced them as well, and suddenly he wasn’t alone any more, and the bandage came off the wound, and it started to feel better.

Not great, it’s always going to hurt on rough days, like a bad knee when a storm is coming, when the night is too quiet, when a car backfires, but it’s not all encompassing anymore. Surprisingly time had nothing to do with it. People did. Mark Ketchum’s office was eventually closed but he never stopped calling Jim. Mark never stopped caring, even in the weeks leading up to his death, his health worsening, and his body failing he would call to make sure Jim was ok, hiding from him the worst of his own battle. Until one night, it wasn’t Mark that called. It was Marks wife and just like that Jim could have closed the door and shut all the people Mark had given him out of his life again.

But Mark had taught Jim a very important lesson in the few years they knew each other. Service to others. Jim could not serve his country in the military anymore but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still serve.

In serving others Jim found a new place for himself in a world he never thought he would fit back into. He served as the chair person on the Texas state independent living council and has been appointed to the Texas Governors board on Traumatic Brain Injuries. He is historian for his local American Legion chapter  and served as Sargent at arms and original member of the local Combat Veterans Motorcycle Association. Now he spends his Tuesday nights training cadets in the Civil Air Patrol. His Thursday mornings volunteering at the food pantry. Last year he was part of a mission trip to Corpus Christi to run a Vacation bible school at the naval base and work on a church for the homeless community, something 5 years ago he would never have thought he was capable of doing.

Life isn’t perfect for us, and sometimes his wounds still bleed, but he’s learning to live with them. He’s seeing his own worth again. He lost 120s lbs. Finished a Bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and a Masters in National Security. He’s living instead of existing.

Jim Batchelor And Sons

He’s raising children and passing on the message of serving others. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. But each of us has the chance to help someone carry their own wounds. Each of us has the chance to come back twice for every time we are turned away, each of us has the ability to show our veterans that they still have a place and a purpose in the world they fought to protect.

I feel sometimes working in the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes Veterans Circle membership program like we are losing the battle that we couldn’t possibly reach every Veteran we need to. That there is a Jim sitting out there somewhere waiting for someone to knock on his door and show him his worth. For everyone we reach out to, we are missing two others, so we are going to need your help.
If you know a veteran, that you think might be struggling, or even one that looks to be handling things just fine, please reach out to them today, don’t take no for an answer.

Be a Jack Russell with a chew toy.

If you don’t know a veteran but would still like to help, contact The Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes and we can point you in the direction your help is needed. Serve those who served our country.