Guest Blog by Caregiver Megan Smith
Time heals all wounds. We’ve all heard it and probably said it once or twice before, but healing, actually being healed, fine, normal, seems so elusive since THIS happened. Whatever THIS is for you. For me, it was my husband, Major Matt Smith, being shot in an insider attack resulting in the amputation of his right leg above the knee. Of course the wound healed. The stitches that closed the amputation came out and his body “healed” as much as it can after a traumatic injury. He works HARD every day. EVERY DAY. And at two months post injury he walked. Yes, two months and he was in a prosthetic and walking. Not just in the MATC under the supervision of his physical therapist, he walked home to our apartment from the MATC. Then at six months he met all his physical and occupational therapy goals. Six months after his femoral artery was severed and his leg was amputated he met his goals, he was back to “normal.” So there it is, time healed the wounds, you are fine, move on.
But that’s the tricky thing about time and healing. All that healing and work did not happen in a bubble. Time didn’t stop on June 8, 2013 and wait for Matt, or me, or our two small children to be OK with what happened, or with our new reality. Time and life moved on. Ours and everyone else around us. I think the hardest thing I’ve had to do this year is tell my husband, the first week he arrived at Walter Reed, that he wasn’t going back to Afghanistan. In the fog of heavy medication his wounds did not seem as serious to him as they are. The realization that the mission would go on with out him crushed him. Not that he thought he was such an integral part that it would stop, but that he let people down by leaving. It’s realizations like that one, that continue to happen even as we approach the one year mark, that makes me realize that wounds never seem to fully heal. They crust over and feel better, then something comes and scrapes the scab right off and leaves you completely exposed and hurting.
The first terrible hit was his unit returning. Amid feelings of joy for friends and peers was anger and jealousy that that should be us having the happy reunion. And then the guilt for having those terrible thoughts and not just being happy and thankful that they are home safe. Then there was packing all our belongings from twelve years of marriage, and putting them in storage unsure of when we’ll see them again. Even harder was returning to the small apartment given to us on Walter Reed and thinking this was our reality for the foreseeable future. And how long is the foreseeable future? Well it’s different for everyone. If I heard that once I heard it a million times and it made me want to scream! Give me an average, make it up, I don’t care just give me something to aim towards because there are too many unknowns in my life right now. The questions from our boys about when they’ll get their scooters back, or their guitar, or their car bed. I don’t know honey, in the foreseeable future. The questions from well meaning strangers that catch you off guard because you’re having a great day and feeling like a normal family out to dinner, until someone you don’t know comes up to you and says “did you get that in the war?” Pointing at my husband prosthetic. The questions from family and friends about when Matt will get back to work. In the foreseeable future. When will all the VA paperwork be done so he can actually be released from the Warrior Transition Brigade and be back on active duty. Back to the crazy uncertainty of the regular Army. In the foreseeable future.
No, Time doesn’t just move forward when healing. Sometimes I feel like we’ll live in June 8, 2013 forever. Every time you meet a new person, every time we’re stared at, every time he falls down your right back at that day. Sometimes it feels not just like a year ago, but an eternity ago. When Matt takes the boys out for the day on his own, when our oldest son was comfortable enough to have Matt and his prosthetic as his show and tell, the first time he put his uniform back on to go to a meeting about his follow on assignment. So we hurry up and wait for time to heal these wounds. It’ll happen. In the foreseeable future, I hope.
About The Author:
Megan Smith has been living at Walter Reed with her husband, Major Matthew Smith, and two sons Patrick (5) and Charlie (3), since her husband arrived at the hospital June 16, 2013. Megan and her husband will celebrate 13 years of marriage June 23. She’s learned more about the Army, her husband, and herself this year that she has in the past 13. If you’d like to follow her husbands progress please go to Matt’s Road to Recovery on Facebook.
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