PTSD and Simple Kindness

Meet Ian. Ian is the older gentleman on the photo above. This man is an ex US soldier - Desert Storm Afghanistan, Iraq with severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He is also a severe alcoholic. Needless to say, this leads to some pretty heavy emotional, psychological, and physical problems.

The young man joining Ian in the photo is my grandson Thorsen Douglas McDonald. Thankfully, Ian and Thorsen connect on a visceral level and both love the other unconditionally. This fact is a small part of the support system that - usually - keeps Ian treading with his head above the waters of depression.

Having known Ian for a few years now, we have become close. Mainly because he resides near my son Brandon, Thorsen’s daddy (not biologically, but in every single way that matters). When a friend of mine gifted my son and his family an acre in Citrus County, Florida with an old claptrap house on it, the six of them (yes- wife and four kids) moved out of my house to take up residence there.

When I say claptrap, I truly mean it. This house was built haphazardly around an old Airstream Trailer from about the early 1950’s. There was no upkeep and the building construction of the add-ons was slipshod. Actually, the best way to handle that house would have been to come in on a wrecking ball like Miley Cyrus. Still, with help from myself and one or two others, my son willfully took to making this ‘pile of feces’ liveable. Not longer after, Ian came into the picture.

Ian is a motorcycle riding, rough seeming, ex soldier who looks like a redneck. He is a wonderful human being under that exterior. As a neighbor, Ian and Brandon connected and became fast friends. This led to myself meeting and befriending Ian as well. Despite the aforementioned PTSD and alcoholism, Ian pitched in and helped with the house, the kids, and other facets of the ongoing situation. Ian, out of nothing but pure altruism, performed back breaking labor to help my son make that place livable for his family of six.

Back to the picture above: The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) arises from the fact that Ian was once captured by enemy soldiers in Iraq and held captive (POW) in a cave for a couple of months before released in some type of prisoner exchange. Needless to say, this was a very traumatic experience causing severe physical and psychological trauma. Unfortunately, this also led to alcoholism that was so prevalent that this good hearted man almost died from it. Ian was released from active duty after that horrific experience.

After meeting Brandon and befriending the family, Ian managed to step back from the bottle. He started going to Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings, and trying valiantly to get his life together. After being sober for approximately eight months, Ian had a bad day. A day bad enough to cause him to purchase a bottle of whiskey.

A few days earlier I had won at work a wooden plaque in the facsimile of the American flag. It is a beautiful piece of art and would have cost about $75 to purchase. As my walls were full, I took the plaque, along with my son, to Ian. When we knocked on the door a stranger answered. A stranger with Ian’s face. He was haggard, sunken, and giving off vibes of severe desperation. In one hand he clutched a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey - thankfully unopened as of yet.

Producing the plaque - this wooden sculpture of the American flag - I proffered it to the wan, pale man standing there. Ian’s eyes lit up. I can barely express my happiness when he set down that bottle of whiskey.

“That’s beautiful,” he said in an awe filled voice.

“It’s yours my friend,” I replied. “For all that you do for my son, his family, and myself.”

“Really?” He looked at me with a shimmer in his eyes.

“I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than you with all you’ve done and gone through for this country. When I won this, I knew I had no place to put it and you were the first name that came to mind. It needs a good home, and yours is perfect.”

Ian immediately got a hammer and nail and proudly hung that wooden flag in his living room. He let Thorsen hold the box of nails. We all talked for a while - not lecturing, just talking. Thorsen climbed into Ian’s lap and fell asleep. As we discussed life and friendship, Ian would occasionally run a hand over Thorsen’s head in a protective manner. Honestly, I think my then two year old grandson’s complete acceptance was the best medicine Ian could have taken that day.

When we departed, Ian handed me the bottle of Crown Royal, still unopened. I took it with me. We were met at the door by a haggard, depressed stranger on the edge of a backslide. When we left I shook the hand of my friend Ian. I still have that bottle.

It was a day later that I took the picture offered here. Ian is still sober, attending AA and going to counseling. So… yes, that picture means a lot. It means a simple act of kindness had a profound effect on a good man - possibly even saved a life. It means that the simple things in life are indeed the most powerful.