The Symptoms Lead to the Diagnosis

His Symptoms

T

he truth. It was good to hear. It all started to make sense. I was putting it together as he let more and more of what he was going through come out.

The nightmares. he had trouble sleeping because as soon as he closed his eyes he saw his friend plummeting head first into the cement floor. And once he did fall asleep, he would wake from the nightmares, his heart pounding.

The flashbacks. At any given moment images flashed inside his head and that sinking feeling of his friend falling to his death, reliving it over and over.

The fear. He lived in fear. Someone is going to get hurt today. Someone might even die. He couldn't watch our granddaughters when they were learning to walk. He'd scream, "Look, look, I told you!" as he stormed out of the room. Unfortunately he has missed quite a bit with his granddaughters because he can't watch. 

I told him reeelllaaax. Kids are kids. They will get cuts and bruises. It's a part of life. We can't stop them from exploring the world and we don't want to stifle them in a padded room. He still can't watch.

The anxiety. His heart races and pounds in his chest. He feels like he is going insane. The anxiety makes him irritable. He gets angry.

The outbursts. Because he is irritable and anxious, he gets so angry and can't control it.

Avoidance. He avoids his triggers. He can't talk to his co-worker anymore without breaking down. He couldn't go to work because it was a trigger.

The guilt. He was torturing himself because he felt so guilty. He was the supervisor. He should have protected his friend. It should have been him instead.

I said, "okay, okay! I think you have post traumatic disorder and you need to see the doctor." 

It took a few weeks but eventually he did. This was three years after the accident.

Prelude to a Diagnosis

M

y husband was finally able to share with me the secrets he had been living with all these years. It took a lot of convincing but he eventually realized the road to recovery starts with our family doctor.

My husband didn't have to wait long for an appointment. He was already seeing the doctor regularly because of his injured arm (work accident were his arm was caught in the press). Our doctor's unofficial diagnosis was PTSD He referred my husband to a psychologist for an assessment who confirmed the diagnosis. 

So it is official. My husband was not going crazy. He has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from witnessing the accident at work.

The Diagnosis

S

omething good came out of the visit with our family doctor. My husband was prescribed a happy pill. Or two. 

One pill helps him go to sleep and sleep soundly. Plus it is a mood stabiliser. That pill squashes the nightmares. No more restless nights. He just zonks right out. Bang!

The other pill is the happy pill. Hallelujah, it was a miracle! 

Actually it didn't happen overnight or with the first dose, but he did become less aggressive, angry, anxious. Like all the "a" words? 

Yes my family continued to be cautious. We didn't want to set him off. But that's okay because that tense, twisted expression on his face relaxed like a long deep sigh of relief. For us all. Don't get me wrong, he still rages like a lunatic but not as easily or as often. I have to say it is easier to ignore when it isn't a constant in our lives.

I know he still suffers.

It's Not Him, It's the PTSD

W

e have been together for a little over twenty years. He has always worked except when going to school. But now? He wouldn't. He couldn't.

I couldn't help thinking my Husband just doesn't care about us. Sometimes hated us.

His slew of short term jobs. His unwillingness to even try to go to work. We need his income. Yes I work but he made almost twenty thousand more than me in a year. 

He doesn't care about the bills, the mortgage, food on the table. Let's face it, he just doesn't care about us because if he did care he would force himself to go to work.

There are things in life that you really don't want to do but you have to do them anyway. There are many people out there who go to work everyday dreading it but they do it because they have to. They need the money! 

And we need the money! What doesn't he get? How am I suppose to pay the mortgage? The utilities? The insurance? The food? Upkeep of the cars? His cigarettes and tea? I can't do it. The pressure is too much. Why isn't he even trying?! He just doesn't care about us and I can't take it anymore!

Was He Dismissed Because of His PTSD?

Dismissal

H

e knew it was coming long before it happened. He felt he was being treated differently. He thought there was some kind of conspiracy brewing  with his superiors to get rid of him. He was the scapegoat for problems with production.

I listened with a grain of salt. Back then everyone was out to get him. If it wasn't the people at work, it was the the guy driving behind him, the girl at the Tim Horton's drive thru, the neighbours, his sister, my family, the kids or me.

I didn't really believe they were trying to get rid of him. It just did't make any sense. There was no paper trail of reprimands. He was knowledgeable and a senior employee. He was able to get his crew to complete work that his predecessors couldn't do. He was a valuable member of the team and it would be hard to replace someone with his experience and knowledge.

Well, they called it restructuring within the organization. Sales were down. They had to cut costs. No hard feelings. 

He was furious. There were so many other employees who had been there for less time. He trained many of them the procedures at this site because he brought his experience with him from the previous site. He wrote the procedural manual for crying out loud. Why was he being walked out the door?

It was a vendetta. That guy didn't like him because Gary stood up for himself and his crew. And that guy didn't want someone who was a thinker who tried to make improvements; he just wanted a "yes" man or maybe a mini-me to do his bidding. 

I think they got rid of him because he wasn't able to perform at the same level as before. 

I guess we will never really know the truth. But it's out there. Isn't it?

Wrongful Dismissal

A

s time passed my husband became more furious. He was consumed by it. He was obsessing about it. We talked about it. Restructuring? What a feeble attempt to cover up a wrongful dismissal

So he went to a lawyer who took his case. This lawyer didn't want a retainer and he would wait for payment until the settlement cheque came in. A dream come true right? It was for my husband. Even when the lawyer said he wanted twenty five percent, or was it thirty percent of the net, the dream remained because this meant someone else believed him.

I'll just cut to the chase. If only we knew then what we know now. I don't believe in regrets. There is a reason for the things which happen to us and it has made us who we are today.  And hopefully we have learned from those experiences. But this lawyer? This lawyer did not have my husband's best interest at heart. 

If Only We Knew Then

I

t seemed to take forever for the negotiations to be over. We thought it was because the lawyer was trying to get as much as he could. After all the more he obtained for my husband, the more he would receive. 

By the time the government took their share, and the lawyer got his share, my husband got a few thousand dollars. That just did not seem right to me. After five years of service? There should have been more especially at his pay rate. And then to pour salt into the wound, E.I. clawed it back so we weren't any further ahead.

Clawed back. A term I just learned. While on E.I. benefits you have to claim all income and they will reduce your benefit amount. Well, as soon as the cheque came in for the wrongful dismissal, E.I. informed Gary that he had been overpaid and now owed the government a few thousand dollars.

If only we knew then what we know now. My husband could have gotten a lot more money. And there should have been a way to prevent the clawed back.

Maybe my husband was right. Everyone is out to get him. And take advantage of him.