Togus Veteran’s Administration Hospital

It was hard to escape the war. It was hard not to watch the war’s progress on television. A malaria attack personalized the war again for me. Vietnam veterans were just entering the system. We brought with us some fresh problems. The Togus VA hospital provided much care to my older step brother, who served as a WWII Navy vet. I had visited there with him on numerous occasions. It was located at our capital city of Augusta, Maine.

I liked the thoroughness of their care. The VA practiced preventative medicine. The follow up care was exceptional, relative to my military experiences. They admitted you for a week at a time for complete care. Once the malaria was checked, I made one additional appointment.

My adjustment to civilian life seemed to be less than successful. I needed to talk with someone about my issues. Most of the staff had no direct military experience. However, I thought that someone might be trained about lagging military issues.

The appointment with the psychiatrist was brief. He asked me if I had seen combat. He asked me about my transition into civilian life. For a few minutes, the conversation seemed helpful. Then he looked squarely at me and asked, “Are you crazy?”

I had seen the psych ward floors by accident. The far away stares are hard to miss. The drooling and mismanaged body functions were hard to process…even for a hardened vet. The psychiatrist didn’t know what he triggered. I either had to jump across that desk, or remove myself from the premises.  I sucked it up and left.

That was early 1970. I didn’t return to a VA facility until about 2013, in shear desperation. For 43 years I managed the best I could.

Currahees…the war never went away…it just hid in the shadows.