Good afternoon, everyone.

I am on the cusp of turning 40.

Most people outside my family don’t know that I was born premature and medical staff told my mother that I wasn’t going to make it. This woman who already had a one year old child at home. A young mother, she was not content to believe these individuals whose educational experience I still cannot compete with in spite of holding two graduate degrees. She was stubborn. She refused to believe them and relied on the love and prayers of many to see me through. Medical technology for preemies wasn’t as great in the 80’s as it is today, so what was at their disposal and the people who loved me and so many I’ll never meet who prayed for me got me through those difficult early days.

And when I say difficult, I’m talking three months premature. Oh yeah, and this was a twin pregnancy for my mother. I came into this world a tiny little thing. 2 pounds, 4 ounces.

How my mom could look at me in such fragile state and believe all would be ok in this world floors me. My husband and I greeted our own daughter years ago with the news she would be born with a limb difference and I remember being so anxious during that pregnancy and scared of all the things this world might rob her of being due to her limb difference. But I wasn’t scared she wouldn’t survive. She was a healthy 6 pounds, 6 ounces. My mom could have been one of those mothers planning a funeral for her baby.

And around the world, so many mothers have been doing just that years and years over. On top of the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, this January mothers of three soldiers lost their babies in Jordan when their base was attacked and earlier this month, moms of five Marines lost their kids when these young men died in their helicopter crash in California. Their deaths are something that struck right at my heart, having handled the activity reports for 1st Marine Division during my first Iraq tour. Their lost lives continue to encourage me to appreciate everyone who fought to keep me alive as a baby, something I cared little about when I was at rock bottom coming home from that first tour.

This situation is in part why I went to the Department of Veterans Affairs for health care for the first time recently. (The other part being that private health insurance is getting out of hand and I feel that my primary doctor might not be best suited to connecting all my health problems to service experiences.) I’ve struggled for the past year with edema. For my regular readers, I know, another health issue. My body is in a weird IDGAF stage. They just keep coming. I went to the ER last April after I gained 9 pounds in two days from fluid retention. From the 5 hours I was there, a series of tests didn’t reveal much except for an abnormally high B-Type Natriuretic Peptide in my blood work. Since this issue can indicate I am at more risk for heart failure, I appreciate that my local VA team is taking the matter seriously.

I’ve been trying to take care of the edema on my own, without going back to my non-VA primary medical provider this past year. That ER visit alone was pretty pricey and I was fortunate most of it was covered by insurance. It wouldn’t be financially feasible to have my regular insurance cover what the VA is doing to investigate the source of my edema. My vitals were taken and we did an EKG during the same visit, without delay. Both individuals asked me about my symptoms and the challenges the edema is creating in my life. I did not want to admit to anyone earlier that I can barely work out currently. I used to work out around an hour to two hours a day either lifting weights and/or jogging around my neighborhood. Now, I struggle if I walk too much in a day. Running is out of the question right now. If I walk too quickly, even a mile long walk brings on edema that lasts most of the day. I even alternate sitting and standing to bring some relief. I’ve switched to 20-30 minute at-home yoga sessions and plan to continue with these videos, even if I find one day coming up I can add running and weights back to my routine. Our daughter joins me as I work through Yoga With Adriene videos. Her companionship makes me feel a little less sad that I cannot workout as hard as I was prior to developing edema. The situation though is not a standalone matter.

When I visited the other day, we covered some of the introductory things, not just the edema. I felt it was imperative to discuss with the medical provider my concern that years of PTSD physical pain, in the form of chest pains, might be weakening my heart and therefore be the connection to the abnormal peptide level. (If we discover the edema has another cause, that’s just as valuable. I just need to know what’s happening so we can treat it and life feels more normal.) We’re waiting on blood work to rule out other issues and in the next few months, I have a cardio stress test and an ultrasound of my heart scheduled to see where my heart function is standing today. The professionalism of the involved staff members is something I want to reiterate today because the VA has not always had the best reputation and I was nervous to use VA health care after it took years for my chest pains to be recognized by the Veterans Benefits Administration as service-connected. I don’t really like talking–writing is easier–to strangers about my service experiences right away, but the visit entailed a brief mental health check-in.

I had a few triggering situations a short duration ahead of my scheduled medical visit, but I would encourage other veterans to be honest about their mental health struggles. For me, there was a scene in “Band of Brothers” (The Breaking Point episode) where Joe Toye is hit by artillery and loses his leg. I was watching it with my family last weekend and it hit me so hard. We bypassed the rest of the scene. The situation brought on a panic attack and the day wasn’t helped either as we tried to unwind with a walk and I wasn’t paying attention that a neighbor was setting up model rockets for some kids. Keeping this experience in mind, I was compelled to let the provider know that I’d recently had an uptick in symptoms and that I am easily startled. We’ll tackle a mental health visit another day, but I want to focus on two other things in this conversation because suicide prevention and personal safety matter to me. I want other veterans to feel like it’s ok to talk to their providers about similar (or worse) things they’ve experienced to ensure they receive appropriate care.

It was a lot to admit to the VA that I contemplated suicide in 2005 after serving in Iraq and that during the tour, my supervisor touched base with me about a male Marine who had made threats against my person. I recognize to avoid feeling suicidal in the future, there are certain ways I control my environment to feel safe. Sometimes, it has an impact of friends and family around me, but often times, it’s more an inconvenience rather than projecting my pain upon them. A big thing that helps is controlling my alcohol intake. I am happy to admit that it’s been years since I’ve drank a kamikaze. That was the drink I’d indulge in to numb my pain. Abusing alcohol is something that I could have sought treatment for in the Marine Corps if I felt it was safe and wouldn’t fuck with my career, but as the only woman in my unit, it was something I didn’t take seriously. I am lucky it didn’t progress further, but I would encourage others to put their health and wellbeing above the mission. The service will ALWAYS find enough people to fill its billets, even if it requires moving people into temporary additional duty assignments. I am fortunate I didn’t die by my own hands. The only commitment I made to myself was making it through the worst night of my life, and I actually talked to my sister, Megan, about this when I went home in January for one of my uncle’s funerals. I made the choice to stick through my pain for her back in 2005. We had a terrible relationship growing up and I didn’t want that to be a memory for her. She was my lifeline well before I admitted it to her. It’s not something I want to talk about today–that pain still hurts–but I love the space she’s given us to be closer as adults. The second issue–military sexual trauma adjacent or directly, depending on who you speak to–is not something I’ve ever talked to a doctor about. I’ve never understood how to approach it. I was unsure how to take speaking to my supervisor, my mentor and a pseudo father figure on deployment, about someone who abused my trust. When I discovered he made threats against me, I wasn’t sure what that meant for my safety when I would eventually return stateside. (I don’t have the full details, so I decided to say fuck it and put in a FOIA request to see if the Marine Corps would have a record I could access. The likelihood of ever working with or encountering said person again is highly unlikely, but I might as well arm myself with knowledge just in case.)

I had enough going on in my life with my grandmother’s declining health to fully address how to cope with the situation that another Marine might pose a threat to my health and wellbeing. And, now years later, it probably had a huge impact on my friendships and the addictive relationship I had with my partner at the time. I accepted a lot of red flag behaviors that were offset by the fact I knew we were both war fighters. He could physically protect me as I could protect me. It wasn’t until I returned home when I had to turn my rifle into the armory and my flak and helmet to CIF (Consolidate Issue Facility) that I was more vulnerable in a physical and an emotional way.

I never once asked my command why the problematic person was gone when I returned. People leave units all the time and I didn’t put two and two together, but I notice how the risk to me put me on guard with others in my life. Did it play a role in my alcohol abuse? I don’t know that I could distinguish that situation separately from other events in Iraq. It does make me concerned about the people our daughter might one day encounter and/or date. As a nation, I think we’ve accepted poor behavior on the part of men as the norm and we still have a long way to ensure that men don’t resort to violence, threats (of any kind), and disparaging women to make themselves look better in comparison to other men. I’ve communicated to my husband what boundaries I’ve developed from this situation. It hasn’t stopped me from maintaining a longterm relationship, but it took a long time to see that what I went through does, in fact, fall under the umbrella of military sexual trauma. When I previously discussed my military experiences with a professor at Arizona State University, I wasn’t originally willing to believe it fell under that designation because it wasn’t sexual assault or what we recognize sexual harassment to look like.

I don’t want to end today on a sad note. It’s exciting to be turning 40 tomorrow.

I took today and tomorrow off, resulting in a fantastic 4-day weekend chock full of fun adventures and lots of relaxing. I will treat myself to a Good Humor Strawberry Shortcake ice cream bar inspired birthday cake with a side of Tillamook strawberry ice cream. My birthday cocktail will be a strawberry tequila sour. We have dinner plans Saturday and another event, centered on our daughter, for Sunday. My actual birthday gift is an experience I’ll get to enjoy in April. I will probably share more about it after the event. And I wanted to give an update on our 2024 financial goals.

• Get promoted at work. (Feb. 29th: Still working on getting promoted.)
• Sell 2nd house. (Feb. 29th: We’re still considering this, but it is contingent on what the promotion looks like and where the promotion opportunities are located.)
• Order new passports. (Feb. 29th: Ordered and in processing. We spent $160 each for the adult passport and passport cards. Our daughter will be 14 this year, so her passport renewal and passport card costs us $115.)
• Travel: 1 big trip. (We have zero idea where we want to go. Haha.)
• Travel: 3 staycations (Feb. 29th: We have one staycation planned; the other two are still TBD.)

Enjoy all the days you’re given. Life is short. Have fun and show up for yourself.

~Cheryl

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