October 2nd, 2010- I sat on the hospital bed at Fort Campbell with my Dad standing next to me. Initial reports said that I had multiple fractures, probably needed a cast for a month or two but then I would be fine to return back to my platoon in Afghanistan. I was expecting to get 30 days of medical leave and we were chatting about what we would do over the next month.
"Oh man, if we could catch an Army football game and even an Eagles game that would be awesome." I said to my Dad with a smile.
"Sure, we can do that." My Dad replied. My Dad has been an extreme influence on my life and I am very blessed to have an extraordinary family. He flew down with my brother, Sean, to meet me as I was carried off the plane on my stretcher. It was an incredible feeling to see a familiar face again and it was the first time I felt safe again.
As we sat there chatting, the orthopedic doctor walked in. My dad and I didn't pay her much attention as she shuffled around. She began to close the curtains around us, and I remember thinking, "Hmm, weird." She held my charts and started to shake, and I said, "Your about to tell me something really heavy aren't you?" She replied, "Sir, what is it you do for us in the Army?" I replied proudly, "Infantry platoon leader." She looked at my Dad, back at me and said, "Not anymore you don't." She continued, "Sir, you were misdiagnosed from the initial x-rays, you have nine fractured bones in your foot, all of which are fractured at an angle and require surgery, a fractured heal, a portion of one of your 5th metatarsals is gone, and your joints have been permanently destroyed in your forefoot." I said, "Um ok." She continued, "This type of injury is crippling. I can tell you that you will never run again. Probably only walk with the aid of a cane. And if your not operated on in the next five days, you will lose your foot." The impact of the moment was too much for me. I closed my eyes, laid back on the bed, and cried. The mental stress of the past week, getting blown up, leaving my men, traveling on a C-130 strapped down on a litter, having to urinate into a pan because I was not allowed to walk by myself, and now this. This wasn't happening maybe if I closed my eyes I would wake up and it would be one big bad dream. I openly cried for five minutes, my Dad hugged me, a strong man whom I have never seen cry, just whispered in my ear, "Its going to be ok, we'll get through this, we'll get through this."
October 4, 2010 - It was my first night back in Massachusetts. I was scheduled to have surgery in two days down in New York and my Dad had asked me if I wanted to stay in New York or go home for a day. I didn't want to put him out by driving back and forth so I said New York, however he knew deep down I wanted to comfort of home, so we drove back. I remember getting home and my mom had put up a banner above our front door, it read, "Welcome home LT Snook. Prayers to a speedy recovery." My Mom was away on a long planned trip and was devastated that she couldn't be there, but still reached out to me through that. I went down to our basement, laid up on the couch with my dog Tony, who seemed to sense my injury, and fell into a percoset induced sleep. I guess my Dad had seen me sleeping and decided to go play golf with my brother Sean. I woke up 2 hours later in excruciating pain. The drug medication had worn off and the burning sensation had returned to my foot. I had to find my medicine. I searched the house and couldn't find it anywhere. I tried calling my Dad ten times, but cell phones are not allowed on the course. I helplessly crutched around the house unable to find relief. As I crutched through the kitchen, my right crutch caught a chair and I fell to the ground. I cant tell you how long I laid there transitioning from screaming and crying, anger and sadness. I used to run marathons for gods sake, and now I cant even walk around my house? I eventually pulled myself up, went down to the bed in the basement, and broke down again questioning everything. "Why me? Why will this pain not go away? I cant do this forever."
March 2011- Finally I had been reassigned to the Warrior Transition Unit at West Point. They immediately set me up with appointments in regards to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Mild Traumatic Brain Injuries. I met with a lady at a local hospital and we began going through the tests. She told me to remember three words and then started. It started off very easy, putting blocks together in patterns. An activity a well trained 4 year old could accomplish. We then moved on to numbers. I felt very confident, I mean hey I was the top Operations Research Major in my graduating class, I had a 4.1 majors average and tied for 1st for top math honors, numbers were my thing. We started with simple addition, no problem aced it. We then did some subtraction, aced it. Multiplication, aced it. Then we started to divide things. And it was like a foreign language was introduced into my brain. The process made no sense. I knew I knew how to do it, but I didn't know anymore. I sat there with a look of befuddlement on my face and couldn't believe what was happening in my head. The nurse encouraged me and said it was ok, she said we expected this from the MRI's that had shown some small legions on my brain likely from the concussions I had had.
I prided myself as a tough individual. A guy who rarely let others see my emotions unless you were within my inner circle of trust (Meet the Parents.) I always thought that no matter what happened to me in Afghanistan I would fight through it and be the same man I was the day I left. The Army has a culture of "driving on" or "sucking it up", it wasn't until I saw the physical evidence of injury that I felt ok with the mental aspect of what I was going through. The legions on my brain helped me justify why I was being the way I was. Once I was able to accept that I was able to fight my other battles ie. depression, night terrors, anxiety, and paranoia. My simple point in all this is that no one man or women is strong enough to handle the incredible force of War. So if you have a friend, are a friend or no someone who has been deployed you must realize they will be forever changed when they return and they need your support whether they say it or not. Thank you all for reading, its truly an honor to speak to so many people.
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