[Don W]

Today, for theraphy I was sent to one of the wards here at the Bedford,Mass VA Hospital. I was assigned to work with one of the full time housekeepers. As I entered the ward, I couldn't help but notice the pictures on the wall near the nurse's station. It was the begining of a story about to unfold in front of my eyes. The pictures were of the patients dressed in their uniforms. The pride stood out in their faces. Neatly pressed uniforms, shined shoes and regulation haircuts. As I entered each room, the pictures on the nightstands and tables continued the stories these patients couldn't tell me. There were pictures of children,wives and loved ones. Some, I could tell were of friends and co-workers. Still, the pictures in their uniforms stood out. This was because in the chair or bed next to them was the shell of this former Sailor, Soldier or Marine. Most were locked in memories they can't share. One spoke as if he were landing on the beaches on D-Day. Others shouted commands to their men. I learned a long time ago how explosions and traumas can change the chemical makeup of the brain. I saw today, the results in person. I watched, as they were spoon fed and attended to. Looking back and forth at them and the pictures, I wondered if any of them were ever able to share their experences. Are there any family or friends that remember what they can't? Or, are people like myself the only ones left to wonder about their experences. I then remembered years ago working at the laundry here at the hospital. We used to clean out the pockets of the patients from this ward. Many times finding a note, claiming they were captured and being held as a POW. After all these years, I've returned to the senders of these notes. As I left one of the rooms, a patient named George said " Goodbye Son" Not wanting to deny him a memory, without thinking twice I said " Goodbye Dad."