Dec

3

SEARCHING FOR PEACE

Filed Under Tears of a Warrior, VA Hospital, Veterans, War, Wounded Warriors 

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

Reflecting back on October:

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“At the very core of my being, I find peace.” (Daily Word, Oct. 2014). Nope! Not yet! Hopefully, later. It’s a beautiful fall day, warm, brilliant colored trees show off their multi-colored leaves, and I am trying desperately to find peace. It is the second time in three weeks that Tony and I are at the Denver Veteran Hospital in the cardiology unit. The first time doctors were going to try and clear a blockage of a major artery in his heart by putting in a stint. Unfortunately, the first try was unsuccessful.  Surgeons found a total obstruction in the artery so they had to pull out and create a new game plan.

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So, we are back for a more complex procedure. As many of you know, hospitals, although a tremendous blessing, are not the happiest space to spend time. The sights, sounds, smells… all put many vets back to darker times. Times when violence, pain, and life/death issues surrounded the individual in places filled with anguish and loneliness.

As I sit in the waiting area, it is busy… people walking in and out, not all that comfortable surrounded by walls painted a pretty ugly shade of green.  Looking through the various home magazines I want to get a bucket of paint and start slopping the walls with bright yellows, light blues, or even a lovely burnt orange. My interior decorator screams to be let loose to redo these dreary areas. In my mind, to keep it off the immediate  situation my husband now faces, I am redecorating the entire hospital.

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Periodically I have to get up and walk around, if for no other reason than to stretch my legs and ease my cramped back. Walking into the main lobby is disheartening. So many wounded warriors, many down on their luck and struggling to find any sense of hope or happiness in the world, sitting in uncomfortable chairs waiting – waiting for help physically and emotionally.

So, I walk over to a private hospital just across the street. The lobby is huge, spacious and sparse in its furniture, and almost empty of people except those at the information desk. The walls are tastefully painted, flooded with light. The people are calm and possess a look and feeling of well-being. I want to stay in this area of sunshine to wait, but am reluctant because my body and heart knows it needs to be nearer to where Tony is being treated.

I’m trying to find peace. Gratitude is not my issue.  I’m filled with it. Grateful for the amazing nurses, doctors, and selfless volunteers dedicated to supporting our veterans. Yet, this space where warriors wait to be healed is anything but peace-filled for me.  What comes to my mind is the sign in front of every veteran hospital in our nation…. “The Price of Freedom is Visible Here”.  I wonder how many non-veterans have ever been in a VA hospital.  Perhaps not that many. Perhaps more should visit to see firsthand the continued sacrifice being given every day. And, perhaps, they would realize that there can never be enough gratitude, enough service we give to those who served us so well.

IRAQ

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