Hidden Wounds » Testimonials

Veteran Testimonial

Annab — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 21:34:12 +0000

Veteran Testimonial
This section will describe an actual “case” that Hidden Wounds has handled to provide help to a veteran and/or their family. Because of HIPPA laws and other privacy issues, none of the names or places used in the story are actual, but the story will illustrate the good works done by Hidden Wounds.
The phone rang early one morning. On the other end was Mary, a friend of a veteran, Bob. She was frantic because she had just gotten a phone call from Bob. Bob had not been seen or heard from for about 36 hours. He was calling from an undisclosed location and told Mary that he had a gun and that if he did not talk to someone by 3 o’clock that afternoon, he was going to use it on himself.
Bob had previously been diagnosed with PTSD by his local VA facility after 3 tours of service in Iraq. His family knew he was not the same young man that had left them 3 years earlier. Bob exhibited all of the classic symptoms, depression, sleeplessness, fits of anger, and constant edginess. Unfortunately, all the local VA facility could do was prescribe medications while they worked through the backlog of veterans waiting for counseling services.
We first called one of our vet-peers who lived in the area to see if he could help. Once he agreed, Mary called Bob back to find out where he was and that Roger would come talk with him. Roger found him and they talked for a while. One of the things we have found is that often the PTSD veteran doesn’t necessarily need to talk to a licensed counselor. They want to talk to another vet. As a veteran once put it, “I want to talk to someone who has been in my boots and carried a rifle”. After about 2 hours, Roger had talked Bob into going with him to the VA facility to see what they could do. Upon arrival, Mary, Roger, and Bob talked with the VA staff about what had happened and they admitted Bob to the hospital for observation. The VA may not be able to see a veteran on a counseling basis, but if you present as suicidal, you are seen right away. Bob was hospitalized for 2 days and released, with more medications, and told they would be in touch about counseling. Two weeks passed and Bob began to decline. Mary called Hidden Wounds again. This time we called one of our volunteer counselors in the area who agreed to see Bob the next day.
That is what Hidden Wounds is all about. We provide that “safety net” for the veteran waiting to receive service from the VA. This was a best case scenario of how all of the pieces worked together to bring about a good outcome. One of our vet-peers went into a crisis situation, diffused it, the VA took Bob in temporarily, and one of our counselors took over in the interim.
At last check, Bob was doing well and still seeing our counselor while the VA is looking for another facility in the Southeast that might be able to take Bob in for more extensive services. Thanks to your generous donations, this is what we can accomplish.

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Courage Within Me

Annab — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 03:07:09 +0000

Your courage is within me

Dear Hidden Wounds supporter,

I have been incredibly pleased with the growth of Hidden Wounds in the short time since its creation. While I recognize that it become a business that seeks to help and serve those who have paid the ultimate form of servitude to our country, I also think it is important to never forget its beginning.

Growing up I was blessed to have a younger brother. I say that looking back as an adult. As a child, more specifically a teenager, I am sure there were times when his upbeat nature, joking persona, and constant laughter got on my nerves. I remember his never-ending search for adventure and excitement. His enthusiasm and zeal for life was unmatching by anyone I’ve ever met. Because of these qualities, it did not surprise me that my little brother decided to join the Marines.

After two tours of duty in this War on Terror, however, my baby brother was no longer a baby. In fact, he had killed babies in the name of protecting the United States of America and our way of life. I hoped and prayed for the day that I might get to see a glimpse of the brother I once knew. As the days turned to weeks and months, I began to understand that the Mills I knew was gone.

When he returned from war, from protecting and supporting an entire nation, he proved unable to protect and support himself. He lived with me, during which time I got to see the torture he experienced. Mills suffered from insomnia, hallucinations, addictions, depression, episodes of uncontrollable anger, and other ailments consistent with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My family and I fought to get him the treatment and attention he needed through our local Veterans Hospital. Sadly, due to the overwhelming prominence of this problem, the hospital was out of resources to treat him.

As we continued to fight for his care, Mills ran out of time. He was so afflicted with the demons of psychological post-war challenges that he was unable to face them any longer. Even though he survived combat, he did not survive the War. I lost my brother, Lance Corporal, Mills Palmer Bigham, when he was turned away from treatment centers. He decided he could not bear the burden of the trauma he had seen any longer and took his life on October 19, 2009.

In my mourning, I decided this kind of travesty cannot happen any more. Our great country cannot send sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, moms and dads, off to war and ask them and their families to support the USA and then offer no support to them as they return. The goal of my non-profit organization, Hidden Wounds, is to provide temporary, emergency care of these suffering veterans until such time as a more permanent treatment facility becomes available. Each day I pour my heart in to this work and each veteran I help reminds me that though Mills’ death was premature, it was not in vain.

Anna Bigham

Proud Sister of Marine, Lcpl Mills Palmer Bigham

Who succumbed to his hidden wounds on 10/19/2009

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Mills’ First Kill: The Beginning

Brett — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 05:31:41 +0000

Coen, left, and Bigham, right, on base in Iraq.

Let me tell you about my first kill, so you can understand the way death may or may not affect the living party.

It took place in Hit, Iraq, on February 13th, 2006. I was on point, patrolling south, and searching for IEDs on the Main Service Road. I was doing everything a 19 year old does when he thinks that he is bulletproof. I would jump down into IED craters and kick the dirt around.

The largest crater was also the last, and closest, to base. I had just finished climbing out of the crater and was resuming the trek south. I was looking over my left shoulder, making sure I wasn’t walking too fast. I hear a Marine scream, “GRENADE”.

I rotated my body fully to the right, bringing my rifle to the alert simultaneously. I see the person in the follow through of his throw. The grenade is spinning slowly, the spoon coming off slowly. The sound of body armor, and the bodies they protect, hitting the concrete created a strange thump, thump, thump sound. I pulled the trigger, quickly, twice. Pop… Pop.

The grenade was a dud.

We approach the person, carefully, we don’t know if he has any more explosives on him. As I get near him, it is abruptly clear he is leaving this world, and soon. He is suffocating on his own blood. He is blowing blood bubbles through his red teeth. He is crying. There are bubbles coming from the two holes in his chest. One to the left of his heart, and the other to the right.

Death took him, and there were no new bubbles.

He cried no more. I checked his ID. He is 12.

I wept that night.

The rest of the kills I made did not affect me in this way at all. It is true what they say, the first is the worst, and then it only gets easier.. I also learned I was not bulletproof.

-Written by Mills Palmer Bigham on October 3, 2009 at 2:43 AM -

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