I suppose many of us could look at our lives and think of one persistent thing that has plagued us for years, or perhaps even our whole life.  The decision then is whether you allow the unhappiness of it to fester, or accept it for what it is and move forward.  I am trying to choose the latter.

As a lot of people know, Bill was injured in Baghdad in 2005.  Not to over-simplify, but while in convoy an Iraqi water truck t-boned their humvee knocking it out of line by approximately 8 feet and briefly knocking the occupants unconscious.  They came to, discovered their vehicle was still working, and hustled back to base.  That is the moment that has stayed with us to this point, and been with us our entire life as a couple.

The accident happened right at the beginning of an 18 month deployment.  They were checked out, released back to duty, but Bill didn't say anything about the injuries that were plaguing him.  Numbness, headaches, insomnia...  Eventually he was medi-vacced to Germany then back to the states where he waited in the Wounded Warrior program until his unit returned.

Fast forward to 2009 and we're back in WA with Bill doing the OWT program at JBLM.  It's supposed to be a 1 year gig with a 1 year extension.  At approximately 6 months into it, they informed him they wouldn't allow him a 2nd year.  Medical issues from the 2005 accident were becoming aggravated as a result of the daily PT, and they didn't want any broken Soldiers in their command, so they cut him.  That's when we started the process for the medical review board (MEB).  

Most recently, as he's traveled to San Antonio for the MEB, talked more with the DAV and has finally after years and years worked his way closer to the tail end of the board, we've finally faced the reality that I don't think either of us wanted to recognize or admit.  Bill's injuries, such as degenerative disc disorder, traumatic brain injury (from having his head knocked around inside that humvee like a coconut) along with other major issues says one thing: disabled veteran.  So much so that the likelihood of him every returning to law enforcement is slim.  It's actually probably none, but I say slim to ease that pain.  He'll never do firefighting again, and lastly, he'll never be a Soldier again.  The Army has said his back does not make him fit for service.  

So we wait.  We wait for a disability rating of 30% or higher because if it's below 30% he won't be medically retired.  After 17+ years of service, if he got a rating of less than 30%, he'd just be put out.  I cannot explain the depth of our emotions over all of this.  Bill feels as though he's a burden to me and the family.  I'm fearful of having a disabled husband and what that will demand of me.  I am exhausted by this process, and it is again confirmed to me that I HATE the Army.  

Bill isn't the first Soldier I knew.  My dad was.  My dad was also the first disabled veteran I ever knew.  In fact, my association with the military started at birth, and was never positive.  Always associated with a time of war, I have a Vietnam veteran for a father, and an Iraqi veteran for a husband.  For a brief time between ages 16 - 19 military guys were fun.  Go to work,come home, look cute in a uniform.  I'd trained myself to forget about my dad, the abuse, his horrendous PTSD, and focused on the young, hot guys at different Army and Marine bases.  Then 9/11 happened.  It wasn't so fun and carefree anymore.  People were deploying.  I met Bill, and two months later he was gone.  Then shortly after that he was in his accident in Baghdad.  

Seven years later, I find us nearing the end of a long tunnel, waiting to hear our fate.  What will his rating be?  If it's too high, will they label him as unable to work in the civilian work force?  Will they rob him like they've done these past years and give him less than 30%, then we'll have to deal with all that entails?  I don't know.  This fight has made us both weary.  That said, I don't pray for its quick execution if it isn't done correctly.  I will accept what comes to us only if the findings are accurate and fair.  Otherwise, somehow, I will muster more fight.