I joke with my husband frequently about leaving him at home when I go places, merely to save time. He’s not allowed to go grocery shopping with me anymore. We’re in the process of getting him back to walking on prosthetics again after losing both of his legs and an arm 7.5 years ago. We’re also in the process of getting him back to driving, something he hasn’t attempted in several years due to a scare- and when I say scare, I mean prosthetic hand that controls brake detaches from arm mid-interstate kind of scare. I’ve gotten used to being the designated driver in the household and considering his driving skills pre-injuries, I’d much rather drive myself anyways (Sorry honey, but it’s true).
I don’t REALLY make him stay home from the grocery, but I’m not lying when I say the trip can sometimes take twice as long when he goes. I’m married to a triple amputee. He’s hard to miss and hard to forget. Everyone “knows” him and if they don’t, they’re going to talk to him anyways. It’s a proud feeling; it really is- small town patriotism shining brightly in the local Wal-Mart. Makes me forget half of my memorized list but we always leave with a new friend, sometimes multiples.
90% of the conversations start with a “Thank you for your service” from a passerby followed by a quick appreciation nod from my husband and then there it is again... That statement that makes me cringe every time, yet so damn proud to be his wife...
Remember, he stepped on a bomb, lost numerous body parts, suffers from pretty rough phantom pains frequently, his only remaining hand with nerve damage but stitched together as good as possible, both lungs collapsed, his chest has been cracked open and his heart massaged to bring him back to life, skin from his back and hips now cover the mangled nubs that were once his perfect legs, scars everywhere on his body besides his perfectly untouched face... and, he’d do it all over again.
I’m lucky. It may not sound like it, but it’s true. I don’t have to raise our child alone. I get to witness achievements with my husband that some women will only ever witness with their children and grandchildren. I get to watch him take his first steps, drive his first mile, and say thank you to strangers at groceries stores. I’m lucky that PTSD is not a topic that destroys our household. We’ve seen it destroy many others in all shapes and forms, but the extent of our dealings with it is that repeated statement I’ve heard way too many times... “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Post-traumatic stress is different for us than what most people may experience. Though my husband has seen his share of death during his deployments, he didn’t have to watch friends around him dying while he laid their conscience unsure of his fate, his own life flashing before his eyes. He was the only one physically injured that day (Emotionally, some of his teammates will never be the same) and his most significant stressor was that he couldn’t finish his mission. So.... he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I once said that I would never marry a Military man, but... I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
By: Ashlee Williams
Photography by: Taylor Alexander Photography, Murfressboro, TN
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