I had a tough day at work! Or did I?
As most of you know I do qualifying exams on young men and women who want to join the military. One of our missions is to detect and screen out those who may be at risk of harming themselves. In 2012 there were more suicides than combat causalities 349 to 294! Not an easy nor a fun part of the job but well worth it! As examining physicians we are not allowed to treat these men and women. That breaks my heart, but we can and do advise them, and tell them how to get help. And, we can’t help praying for them. God bless them and all of those wonderful kids who work, fight, and sometimes die so we can continue to live like they could not!
Below are the stories of three men I saw some days ago. I have omited their names or used false names, and I have changed some of the surrounding circumstances to protect their identity.
One of the first men I saw that day was a pleasant, self-assured, handsome 22 y/o guy with no past health problems. He would be an easy case I thought! Wrong!
His exam was not unusual except for some bruises and scratches on his chest. “What happened here?” I asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“Can you give me a short version?” His embarrassment was apparent. Must have been some sexual thing, my judgmental mind was telling me. Perhaps his girlfriend was fighting off a rape! Please, mind be quiet!
“It was my mother!”
Almost afraid to go on I replied, “It was your mother….” Then I paused and waited for what I thought would be the horrible answer. I was wrong!
“She has a terrible temper, and was beating on me and scratched my chest.” She has anger issues. I just have to get out of there. Maybe she’ll be better when I come back,” he concluded. “I have asked her many times to see somebody about her getting so mad all the time, but she won’t!”
More discussion let me get from depressed to relieved. We talked a bit about who owns this problem and then I congratulated him on taking a step away and letting her be in charge of her problem.
I knew the next man would be easier. Wrong again.
Here was an 18 y/o fellow, short, muscular, and blond. Here’s a good kid my judgmental mind said.
He was a good kid, but he too, needed to get away. He had a tattoo of a revolver on his right shoulder with a date below. On his left shoulder was a tattoo of a woman and a date. “Tell me about these tattoos, looks like they have meaning.”
“That’s why I need to get out of this town,” he began. “I lost both my parents in the same year and I don’t have anybody to stay here for.”
Again my judging mind was telling me, that’s dumb. But my emotional mind blurted out, “I am so sorry, when did they die?”
“Dad was shot when I was 12 and Mom died about half a year later.”
Now Mr. Mind was going crazy, one thing to be wrong; another to be absolutely idiotic!
“Broken heart I suppose.”
“No, she was strangled. I had to live with my grandma then, but that’s not like living with a mom and a dad. I just need to start over.”
I did not ask who killed either of them; I had learned enough to determine he was qualified for duty and bade him good bye while we both brushed away our tears.
OK, my optimistic mind told me, the next one will be a piece of cake!
Three wrongs in a row!
Max, (a pseudonym) was 19. He stood so tall and straight my neck cracked creaked when I looked up at him. He smiled as we shook hands and showed off his perfect white teeth. Must be from a rich family, my judgmental mind said to me.
He had a 17 y/o sister and a baby brother only 4 months old. “Different dads“, he added with somewhat of a disgruntled tone.
He had lived with his mother until his junior year in high school when he and his sister moved to another state to live with their dad. They returned a few months ago after he graduated from high school.
“Why did you move away?” I asked suspecting there was more to the story.
“I had trouble with my mom,” he began. “No actually, I didn’t. I had trouble with her ‘boyfriend!‘” he added while forming quotation marks with his hands. “I just can’t stand him!”
Now, I know lots of kids have trouble accepting step-parents and half-siblings. So I broached the subject with him.
“It’s nothing like that,” he assured. “He beats MOM!” Now tears were forming in his blue eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. Cleared his throat and stared at the floor.
“That’s terrible!” I answered holding back my own tears. “She shouldn’t have to deal with that! And neither should you. Why didn’t she call the police?”
“The first time that happened, we called the cops, and they came, but that didn’t do any good.”
“Didn’t they arrest him or take him to jail?”
“They didn’t do nothing! The cop said a man ‘has a right’ to control his wife.” The tears were flowing now. We don’t have tissues in our military office, and he obviously had nothing on him to dry tears so he continued to rub them into his face. I offered him a paper towel; it was the best I could do.
“How could he say that? No man can has the right to hit his wife!” I proclaimed.
“I know it!” he answered. “And she is NOT HIS WIFE.”
“Mom told me she called the cops two more times when we lived with Dad, but they didn’t do nothing either time! When we came back home my uncle, Mom’s brother, and I helped her move all of the stupid guy’s stuff out. But next thing he moved back in. That’s why I’m joining the army; I just have to get out of there.”
“You can get out of there, but you’ll still worry about her. And you won’t be going in for at least 3-4 months. You know sooner or later, he’ll probably kill her and maybe even your little brother. Why don’t you call the County Social services?”
We talked about how to do that and by the time we were finished with his exam we had both regained our composure enough to get on with our days.
Is it fair that kids need to put up with these kinds of childhoods? We all think not!
That’s just one of the reasons I have written Messengers in Denim, and Tools for Effective Parenting. Pray with me that these and other parenting books can make a difference. Please share my passion! We all need t do what ever we can to help people become better parents. It doesn’t just happen!
PS. Rethinking these stories reminds me I need to get my mind to be less judgmental! I promise I’ll work on it!
Thanks for reading!