Healing hidden wounds

by Jan A. Igoe

November 1, 2011

12:00 AM

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Mills and his sister Anna

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Anna Bigham at her brother's grave.

After two combat tours in Iraq, Marine Lance Cpl. Mills Palmer Bigham returned to Columbia with all his limbs, but desperately seeking relief from invisible injuries—emotional trauma, depression and anger.

Diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the 23-year-old honorably discharged veteran was almost unrecognizable to his family and friends. Before the war, Mills Bigham had been an athlete at A.C. Flora High School, a laid-back prankster who could make anyone laugh, says his sister, Anna Bigham.

After Iraq, she’d find him curled up in a ball on the floor after blowing bullet holes in his front door. When Mills couldn’t hold down a job, Anna supported him. She and her mother filled out piles of Veterans Administration paperwork when he was too frustrated to cope with it. Soon after her brother moved in with her, a neighbor called to say Mills was out in the street with a machete, wearing only his boxers.

On October 19, 2009, still waiting to enter a VA inpatient treatment program for PTSD and depression, Mills Bigham sat in the cab of his pickup truck, pointed a shotgun at his head and took his life.

In memory of her brother and best friend, Anna founded Hidden Wounds to spare other families the heartbreak of losing a warrior to suicide. Now in its second year of operation, the Columbia-based nonprofit augments VA mental health services by providing a toll-free hotline for veterans and active-duty military personnel in crisis. Callers are linked to peer counselors and a network of 5,600 volunteer mental health professionals who can provide services within 24 hours. Hidden Wounds also raises funds to pay for private counseling within 10 miles of the veteran’s home.

“He fell through the cracks,” Bigham says of her brother’s failure to get treatment in time. “If my brother was seeking help—screaming for help—and couldn’t get it, what happens to those who are afraid to ask for it? This can’t happen to anyone else. They served our country. It’s not right.”

Since 2001, close to 2 million men and women have served in Iraq and Afghanistan and more than 26 percent of returning troops exhibit symptoms of PTSD, anxiety disorder or depression, according to a RAND Corporation study. Those seeking care may languish on waiting lists for months, while the Department of Veterans Affairs scrambles to cope with the enormity of the mental health crisis. The VA reports that its Suicide Prevention Hotline handles about 10,000 calls a month. Every day, 18 veterans take their own lives, and another 33 attempt suicide.

“These guys can’t wait four to six months for help,” says Hidden Wounds co-founder Chris Younts. “These guys are good at hiding things until they snap.”

PTSD symptoms range from re-experiencing a traumatic event, to auditory and visual hallucinations. Veterans may be hypervigilant—constantly aware of who is behind them and where windows and doors are located for a quick exit, says Rock Hill licensed clinical therapist John Garland, an Air Force veteran and volunteer with Hidden Wounds.

For many veterans diagnosed with PTSD, the skills that kept them alive in combat, work against them as they try to re-enter civilian life. Military training teaches soldiers to rely on instinctive responses to survive. “If they perceive a life-threatening situation, it’s purely reaction—an obligatory response like a rubber mallet on the knee,” Garland says.

Veterans with PTSD are unable to moderate that fight-or-flight instinct in civilian settings and small triggers, the backfire of a car for example, can spark an uncontrollable emotional crisis or a violent outburst. Embarrassed or ashamed at their reactions, those with PTSD often withdraw from social contact. “Vets may stay in the garage or shed. They believe removing themselves from the situation keeps themselves and others safe,” he says.

The stigma of PTSD, in spite of the military’s efforts to dispel it, often prevents veterans and active duty personnel from seeking help. When they do reach out, they respond best when talking to a fellow combat veteran, says retired Marine Dan Ramsey, Hidden Wounds executive director of strategic outreach.

“We find common ground and bring them back from the edge,” he says. “A lot of guys who are struggling are more likely to talk to us than someone who hasn’t been in combat.”

Ramsey can relate to the men and women he counsels. He served two tours in Iraq and was serving in West Africa when he was thrown from a 7-ton truck, breaking his neck in three places. He was also diagnosed with traumatic brain injury and PTSD, and struggled to readjust to civilian life.

“I had a pretty bad breakdown in September ’09,” he says. “A moment of insanity. Drinking a lot. I hit bottom. If I didn’t get help then and there … it would have been over.”

Ramsey, 31, enrolled in a 13-week course for drug and alcohol users at a private treatment facility in Columbia. “It wasn’t quite right, but it was the only option. It helped me manage my emotions better,” he says. He credits his family for helping him stay grounded, and today he’s working on a master’s degree in social work at the University of South Carolina. After hearing about Hidden Wounds, he signed on to help his fellow veterans battle kindred demons.

Ramsey isn’t sure when VA services will be able to meet the mental health needs of America’s newest veterans. “The system hasn’t caught up with us yet. It’s still clogged with Vietnam, Korea and even WWII veterans,” he says. But time is of the essence for anyone with PTSD, so private organizations like Hidden Wounds must fill the gap.

“We can help,” he says. “We’re here for all veterans.”

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Hidden Wounds Hotline

Military veterans or family members in need of assistance can call Hidden Wounds at (888) 4HW-HERO.

For more information or to support Hidden Wounds, visit hiddenwounds.org or call (803) 403-8460. Donations can also be mailed to: Hidden Wounds, 4840 Forest Drive, Suite 6B, #317, Columbia, SC 29206.