Guest blogger Patty Horan
By Patty Horan
Patty Horan serves on the Military Officers Association of America (MOAA) Currently Serving Spouse Advisory Council. This four-part series about her family’s journey following her husband’s serious injury in Iraq, originally appeared on the MOAA Spouse Blog, “Making it in the MilLife.” Horan has been married to her husband, Capt. Pat Horan, for 11 years. Three years ago he was shot in the head while serving in Iraq. Patty is his full time caregiver, and also serves on a caregiver focus group and contributed to the creation of the Department of Defense TBI caregiver manual.This is her story. Read Part I of Patty’s journey – The Call
By Monday evening, Pat’s brother, Chris, and mother, Mary Jo, had arrived on orders. We become the stronghold, the army of three that lived, ate and hung on every doctor’s word at National Naval Medical Center (NNMC).
Over the course of the first week I realized I did not have to do this alone. Just thinking about the constant parade of family and friends that came to my husband’s bedside still overwhelms me today. It didn’t take long for the news of his injury to spread. Luckily the hospital was only a short thirty-minute drive from Pat’s childhood home. Many service members find themselves hundreds of miles away from home, separated from their units as well as their support network.
In the beginning, Pat was heavily sedated, in a medically induced comma but day-by-day they would bring the sedation down nd he’d be more and more awake. The Neurosurgeon that lead his team, Dr. Armonda, encouraged us to bring pictures, play familiar music and surround him with loved ones. Voices, images, and music can activate the injured brain and help bring patients to a higher state of awareness. Family and friends helped collect pictures, they told him old stories, sent card, brought gifts, made posters. Visits with Pat were short. Only two people were allowed at his bedside at a time. They would have to call back on the intercom and be buzzed in by the nurse. The rest of us would wait in the ICU waiting room. Chris and I spent every waking hour for three weeks either with Pat in the ICU or in the waiting room briefing visitors on Pat’s current condition.
Life in Intensive Care
The ICU waiting room had a life of its own. It housed many couches, a TV and an enormous table where games and puzzles were stored. You could feel the heaviness in the room. Most of the families were on edge, waiting to hear updates on their loved one’s condition or the outcome of a surgery. We would all rejoice when a soldier or marine showed the smallest sign of recovery and shudder at the passing of those who just couldn’t keep up the fight. We were all hoping and praying for a hint that our husbands, sons, fathers or brothers were in there… somewhere. The ICU closed from 6:00 to 8:00 morning and night for shift changes. The families learned if you could sneak in to the ICU at about 5:30am you’d be in position to catch the doctors while they were doing rounds.
Tough Choices
While on rounds the doctors did neuro-checks. They wanted to see if Pat could follow simple commands, follow a pen with his eyes, or move his extremities. Surgeons had removed half of my husband’s skull in Iraq and inserted a tube to drain excess fluid off the brain. When injured, the brain’s cerebral fluid production increases dramatically. The extra fluid caused his head to be so swollen we could not even tell that the skull had been removed. Pat also had cerebral fluid leaking out of his ear. The bullet carved a hole from his ear canal to his brain. This posed a serious risk for infection. They gave us a week to see if Pat’s leak would heal. No such luck. So, on July 16, I was asked to sign the papers to allow the doctors to close his left ear canal and permanently end his hearing in that ear.
Tip #1: Stay organized
That July there were a few other army families in the ICU waiting room. We became friends, shared resources and supported each other. One of the wives showed up every morning with a huge binder. She was very organized and kept all her notes, business cards and medical/army/legal documents together. This was brilliant! I can’t stress enough how important it is in this process to hold on to your resources, your medical and legal documents and business cards. You never know when you’ll need them.
Separated from the Army Family
Communication with Fort Lewis was spotty, and I immediately felt disconnected from the unit. Where was my Family Readiness Group? My close knit group of army wives were hundreds of miles away. In reality my friends knew very little about the medical side of the Army. My husband and I were in the hands of strangers. I spoke with the Battalion Commander’s wife several times a week and had a few conversations with the Rear Detachment Officer. They both were eager to get updates on Pat’s condition. Many of his comrades, still in combat were very concerned about his welfare.
Tip #2: Use the Soldier Family Assistance Handbook
The most valuable thing the Battalion Commander’s wife and the Rear Detachment Officer passed to me was The Soldier Family Assistance Handbook, which you can still find today http://sfac.wramc.amedd.army.mil <http://sfac.wramc.amedd.army.mil/> . I am not sure when it was last updated, you may also find it under My Hero Handbook.
Paperwork and entitlements
I was also encouraged to hold off on signing anything. There had been a push to retire severely injured soldiers early on in their recovery. I decided that was sound advice and in all actuality I was in no mental state to be making big life changing decisions such as ending my husband’s army career.
Keeping all this in mind, I had two clipboard carrying government employees that sought me out regularly throughout our time at the hospital. Both had lots of forms for me to sign. I did have power of attorney over my husband, but chose not to use it. One gentleman was the Traumatic Servicemembers Group Life Insurance Rep and the other was from Social Security. Both were genuinely trying to help me and sign us up for benefits that may husband earned due to his injury.
I had no idea Pat was entitled to a TSGLI insurance payout and social security benefits. TSGLI pays out $25,000 for every so many days severely incapacitated, capping out at $100,000.
Social security implemented a program for disabled veterans. They can apply and collect on active duty as long as they have not gone back to gainful employment and are still in the recovery/rehabilitation period.
A big step towards recovery
By the end of the third week, Pat’s cerebral fluid production had regulated and he was stable enough to move to the fifth floor. This was a huge step. He was out of the woods! His life was no longer in imminent danger. This was a busy time for the family. Doctors and social workers started to push us to make decisions about rehabilitation. Pat’s sister Megan, his brother Richard and I began the search to find a rehabilitation hospital that would give Pat the best chance at recovery.
Making it in the MilLife The Military Officers Association of America. Copyright © 2011 All Rights Reserved.
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