The End of Struggle

We knocked on his door. No answer. "That's odd. He always calls when he cancels an appointment", I said to Bob.

His bicycle was in the back. I thought he had gone back into the domiciliary as happened once before and he had left no message. I had scolded him then for not notifying any of his clients. We worried about him. He lived alone and had many issues to deal with. He was a veteran dealing with PTSD, substance abuse, brain trauma, and several emotional disorders. We knew he suffered from severe migraines and sleep deprivation. Lately he had used several prescription drugs to help with his insomnia and migraines. He shared some of his issues with us, but none of us really realized the extent of his despair. How could we? Listening to another is not the same as walking in his shoes. We could not feel the pain that lead him to mixing so many meds to ease that pain.

After a few days of no word I called those who knew the ropes and could tell me if he were in the VA for treatment or for medical issues. Not long before he had almost died from kidney failure because of drugs he was taking. His drugs were changed, but he still took many since his issues were many.

The sheriff came to see me. "We found him dead in his apartment. He was lying on the floor. I saw all of his medications lined up on the table. It did not look like suicide, but we have to wait for the autopsy."

Several of us who knew and loved him gathered at a kitchen table. We talked about all we knew about his final days. We shared our grief, smothered by the shock of so recent a happening. He had been such an asset to the community, helping many of us regain physical strength through his fitness training, specialized to each of our individual needs. He had a rare gift; to be able to see what each client needed and to adapt his personal training to those needs. He treated arthritis, Parkinson's, MS, weight loss, strength gain, body building, or whatever his client requested.

His love and concern for each client showed clearly. He wanted them to be the best they could be. He once told me that working with his clients and watching them achieve their goals brought him the most fulfillment to his life; a life filled with physical and emotional struggles. He loved our VA and our town. He worried about the possible loss of our VA. He did not know where he would go. He needed the closeness of a VA, but he also cherished the warmth of Hot Springs.

We had talked about his loneliness, his desire for a special person to share his life. He worried about a someone who could be a part of his constant struggle in life. Who could be there for his emotional highs and lows, for his migraines, his sleeplessness, his daily demons he fought to be able to be there for his clients?

I met Wade when I interviewed him for a chapter in my book, Reveille in Hot Springs: the Battle to Save our VA. He had been through both the substance abuse program and the PTSD program. His chapter, "Inside the Dom" took the reader through the inner treatment programs at our VA.

One time, after re-reading his chapter, he told me, "I sure am one screwed up dude." He had shared his story, honestly, with a raw edge, but as he re-read it, many times, he seemed to see himself for the first time. It was as if he was reading about someone else, even thought the words had come from him.

I can only speak for me but I know that his encouragement and belief in me kept me going in my training with him. He would say, "You are an inspiration to me, Mary. You help to keep me going."

I believe that all of his clients helped to keep him going. They each inspired him and helped him to deal with his pain. But late in the night, sleepless, with only pills to ease his struggle, he turned more and more to those small prescribed aids to relieve his pain, physical and emotional, and in the end, too many, too soon, took him away from us, much, much too soon. He has left a void. He was loved.

Goodbye dear veteran, my trainer, my friend. You have left a hole in my heart.