“Rich” was a patient and resident at the Community Living Center (CLC) at the Des Moines VA hospital campus and required 24/7 care. He had moved here from Nebraska, requiring care that best fit services offered at the Central Iowa campus. The CLC is a long-term care facility.
He came with a lifetime of service: West Point education, Army Ranger, Army recruiter, ROTC Instructor at Creighton University and, finally, working for Omaha VA.
Rich was a good, stable patient. Over months in the CLC, Rich and the staff built rapport and a trusting relationship. He often offered to assist the staff. Keeping with his nature of serving others, he found enjoyment in visiting and counseling his peer Veterans, both staff and residents.
He also focused on his family. His oldest daughter, mother to five of his grandchildren, was also sick and facing a grim outlook.
Staff arranged trip to see his daughter
Her condition understandably weighed on Rich, especially as his condition didn’t allow him to visit her. He longed to see her but couldn’t. He would sometimes confront his caregivers and say, “Don’t you have kids? What would you do if your kid was dying? Would you just stay here?”
When staff was alerted that his daughter was nearing the end, they felt they had to act. Despite COVID and time constraints, “Shari,” a CLC social worker, organized with the Veterans Transportation Service (VTS) to schedule Rich a visit to Omaha to see his daughter. The staff knew this would likely be the last time he would have with her.
CLC care providers, nurses, social workers and management had questions. “What is the risk of doing this? Should we even try this? Will Rich come back to Des Moines? What will his mental state be? Will this even work? Will he need to be hospitalized in Omaha?”
Concerned for his ability to cope
When the day of the trip arrived, the VTS van driver was Army Veteran “Chuck” (pictured above). He and Rich connected immediately and spent two hours chatting in the front seats, while “Sara,” his nurse, and social workers accompanied in the back. The staff was nervous because of Rich’s unknowns, his daughter and the emotional toll on everyone.
Arriving at the hospital in Omaha, Sara became keenly aware of the need for social, emotional, physical boundaries that may intrude on the meeting between father and daughter. The nurse thought it might be difficult for Rich to cope effectively with his grief and stress.
Aside from the expected tears, though, Rich did well, even inviting Sara into the room for proud introductions.
Back in the van, Chuck, along with the staff in the backseat, noticed that Rich was becoming increasingly distressed. They feared Rich was going to refuse to return to Des Moines. To diffuse the situation, Chuck casually asked if he could stop at the Heartland Airborne Memorial that honors his old Airborne unit. The idea turned out to be a lifesaver.
Dark day for driver, too
At the memorial, the two Veterans bonded even more deeply.
Chuck found the names he was looking for and got down on his hands and knees, full of emotion. It was then that Rich, with some difficulty, bent over and placed his hand on Chuck’s shoulder and comforted him, “I’ve got you, brother.”
It was a moving show of support, respect and brotherhood to his fellow Veterans.
Sharyl, the social worker on the trip, saw an opportunity and asked Chuck about his old unit. “Do you keep in touch with any of these guys?” she said. Chuck responded, “Sadly, no. I’m really the only one left.” Some in his unit had died from suicide, one recently.
The team returned to the van and traveled to Des Moines.
In time, Rich’s daughter passed away. Rich could not attend the services but did view it remotely. And then Rich also died.
“I was not in a good place. He saved me.”
Sometime later, Chuck, the driver, was visiting Sharyl’s office and the Nebraska trip came up. Sara asked about that memorial in Nebraska.
Chuck said, about the exchange with Rich, “Oh man. That guy pulled me out of a dark place that day. I was not in a good place. He saved me.”
Difficult to say which one of these Veterans saved the other that day. It could be said that their mutual acts of kindness and brotherhood saved each other.
It is the sort of help that only Veterans can give… and receive.
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This was such a touching story. For me, it underscored my desire to find lost buddies. Part of my time in the service was prior to the ‘internet’. We didn’t have much ability to ‘stay in touch’. I wish there was a way for Veterans to easily find them again before our time ends ?Thinking of all my buddies from the 45th Field Hospital unit and those at Vicenza’s Medical Group ?
I wish I could ‘find’ old buddies from overseas service. There aren’t enough resources I’ve been able to ascertain for locating lost buddies.
To Rich, from a fellow West Point grad,… ” When our race is run, our time on earth is done, may it be said , Well done. Be thou at peace”
Being a veteran is more than meets the eyes, it is a true brotherhood, no matter what branch, what unit or what war we must and do continue to march together, side by side, as only we can and we wait for our day, the day that Taps plays for us.
What a beautiful story. Veterans helping Veterans, it just doesn’t get any better than that!
I loved this