Tom Schreck - Out Cold

"You go brother-sticking it to the man!" Karl said. In my home for ten minutes, and already trying to lead an uprising. I got a beer, cracked it open, and it dawned on me I was drinking a beer in front of one of my addicted clients. I thought about it some more and figured he was living in my house-it was up to him to live by rules. I could get fired for him living here, so drinking a beer in front of him wouldn't really add anything of consequence.

"Karl, this whole 'sticking it to the man' thing…do you ever let up on it? I mean is everything a matter of the world out to get you?" I sipped the Schlitz.

"Look man, I appreciate you hooking me up in your crib, but it doesn't necessarily mean I'm opening up everything in my life to you. Suffice to say, I've got enough evidence of the man fuckin' with me and everyone else."

"But what about all this prediction stuff. I mean you say these general things and then shit happens. You got information t no one else has?"

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't. When you've been through what I've been through, more of it becomes transparent. Then, you can't help but see it."

"Someday can you maybe fill me in?"

"I don't know, Duff." Karl turned away and stared at the wall. Al slurped the whole left side of his face. Karl focused his attention on Al and away from his history with the man.

"Hey Karl, these guys who jacked me in the back of the head-that has something to do with all this right?"

"Did they take any money from you? Do you owe some service men money? Did you screw some Army guy's wife?"

"No."

"Then what do you think it was all about?"

"…and you're not going to tell me the details…"

"If I did it wouldn't make us any safer." Then, things got a little odd.

First my vision blurred a little like I wasn't there, but there at the same time. I got a clammy cold feeling and felt a little sick to my stomach. At the same time my heart started to race and it became hard to breathe. My field of vision locked on Karl playing with Al, but something came over me. I felt like something awful could happen, but I had no idea what. It felt real, but I knew it wasn't. My body overrode any logic and it knew something bad was going to happen. My chest hurt and I couldn't catch up with my breathing. I felt cold, but I felt sweat on my forehead and running down my face. I could taste something bad at the back of my throat.

"Duffy!" I felt a hand on my forehead. "Stop. It's me. Karl. You're all right. It's just a flashback." I felt something help me sit down on the couch and I felt my breathing rev up again.

"Duffy, focus in on your breathing and nothing else. Don't fight the thoughts or the emotions, let them do their thing. Just breathe."

"What the fuck is happening?"

"Don't fight it. It's a flashback."

"What the fuck?"

"Breathe it out."

I listened to Karl. With nothing better to do, I breathed. The feeling of out-of-controlness got a little better. I stopped hyperventilating and my vision began to clear. Karl sat next to me, holding my hand, and Al was staring at me.

"Welcome back."

"What was that?"

"That's one of the hallmarks of PTSD. You just had a flashback. It's kind of a waking nightmare. Have you been getting nightmares?"

"On and off."

"Yeah, I thought so. These things really suck."

"I'll say."

It's weird, but after a few nightmares and now these fucking awake things, I didn't trust sleep. I felt dead tired and I hurt, but I didn't want to close my eyes and let the demons mess with me. Lack of sleep wasn't going to help my stress management, but I didn't know what else to do. Except drink more. I told my clients drinking didn't help, that it actually added more stress to the body, so when the effects faded off you got left with a body and a mind in worse shape than when it started. I still drank despite that knowledge. I got a good idea why the alcoholics I've been counseling for years ignored a lot of what I had to say. Ironically, all the times I've gone out on bogus disability leave had come back to haunt me. The fact is, I couldn't afford to take any sick time off. There was some quirk in the disability law that allowed employers to fire employees if they've reached a certain amount of days away from the job for whatever reason. Over the years I've cooked up fake diagnoses, so I could train or spar. Fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, post traumatic stress and some others all did the trick. The key was to get a doc to write you a condition really hard to prove with objective symptoms. I knew it was bullshit, and I'm sure Claudia knew it was bullshit, but there was really nothing she could do. Now, I could use some genuine disability time and I didn't have any, so I had to show up at the clinic. Disability law was something I didn't quite understand. I knew Claudia did so I knew I had to get to work.

"Duffy, what the hell are you doing here? You should be home and in bed," Trina said when I walked through the door.

"Good morning to you too."

"I'm serious. You're in no condition to be here."

"I got to, other wise the Michelin woman will have cause."

"No way."

"Yeah, she's let me know I've run out of disabilities."

"Oh my God. Be careful."

"Yeah."

She looked at me in that way that told me she was assessing me. She also had a way of looking at me that set off a little bit of a spark. I headed toward the cubicle when she called for me.

"Duff, I heard about Rene." She bit her lip and scrunched her forehead. "I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure what to say either." I felt my chest tighten a, and just wanted to get to my desk. "Thanks though, Trina." She stood and looking at me while I walked away. On my desk sat a package from the Veteran's Administration. There was also a note from Claudia to come see her as soon as I got in. I'm sure she just wanted to give me a hug and express her concern for my well being. Whatever it was, it was going to have to wait because I was dying to read about my buddy Karl and his military experience.

I wanted to know the Karl back story and maybe get a better handle on the helmet, rubber gloves, and his hate for the New World Order. The package came with a form letter about confidentiality and the general phone number to call for veteran medical records.

The first page of the file contained a discharge summary, which is kind of an executive summary of everything in the chart. It's kind of like Cliff Notes for the lazy counselor. This is how it read:

DISCHARGE SUMMARY

VETERAN'S ADMINISTRATION HOSPITAL

ALBANY, NEW YORK

Karl Greene

Date of Evaluation: 1/8/08

Case No.: 1667-9289-11A

Date of Report: 1/10/08

Unit 7

Admission Date: 1/2/08

PURPOSE OF EVALUATION

This is the first psychiatric admission for this 28 year old, single, white male, who was referred through the office of Veteran Affairs following what was described by his commanding officer as 'Behavior consistent with PTSD'. Greene, a sergeant in the US Army Special Forces division was admitted to the VA following a brief stabilization admission in Germany.

Sergeant Greene was receiving psychiatric services at this hospital until 1/7/08 when he assaulted a mental health worker, breaking the worker's nose, and causing facial bruises and lacerations. Greene refused to attend group therapy and objected when the mental health worker grabbed his elbow to escort him. Staff report that Greene claimed the mental health therapy aid was part of conspiratorial activities against him. Greene rendered the mental health worker unconscious with a martial arts style blow. It should be noted Greene did express remorse at assaulting the mental health worker and did seek out assistance in reviving the unconscious worker.