After being assaulted early in my career, I became a work alcoholic, and work became like a narcotic for me. I could lose myself in it, and I needed to lose myself. To free myself from the assault, I needed to disconnect from it. I thought that was the way to do it. Just shut it down. It never happened. So that is how I proceeded. As you may imagine, this fed many future therapy sessions.
The payoff was that I received little to no negative attention for years. My career was excellent, and I got all the right promotions and medals—letters from the Admiral hand-picked for the next assignment. The downside was that I had completely disconnected from social life, and my relationship ended. I had no close friends around me.
During my last year in the Navy, I worked two full-time jobs, the Navy and a civilian gig I picked up. My father died. I had an ovarian tumor removed the year before, but I started having problems again, which led to a radical hysterectomy.
The medical care I received was a nightmare. Surgical menopause made the experience worse, and the initial symptoms of what I would learn later were PTSD, and Major Depression brought on by the medical care disasters and menopause.
During this last year, the medical care I received hovered between misdiagnosis and punishing pelvic exams. It got to me, and I tried to see a psychologist. They told me I couldn’t get in for a couple of months; if I had been a dependent, they could see me right away. Exasperated, I went to my Command Master Chief to see if he could intercede for me, which he did, and I saw a psychologist two weeks later. This help, however, came with a cost.
The Master Chief kept at me to go to church with him. I declined. He started leaving religious pamphlets tucked into the manuals on my desk. When I didn’t respond to his approaches, he started singling me out for ass-chewing. Sometimes, he would even wait at the door in the morning, and when I walked up, he would rush out the door and down the stairs and start screaming at me for some infraction he found. I was squared away, so he had to find something to gig me with. I had a very short haircut, and as it grew out.
Master Chief said I was growing a tail and needed to have it blocked like the men do, and I had to shave it each day. He would check. It was ridiculous. While this happened, the medical care worsened; the psychologist was no help. I don’t think he believed me about the doctor’s mistreatment. Another E-6 was getting ready to ship out, and he started harassing me. Clearly, I couldn’t get help from my command, so I dealt with it the best I could.
Before the hysterectomy, I wrote a 6-page narrative of my experience with my medical care. It made its way up the chain of command, from my Lieutenant to my Commanding Officer, to the Admiral in charge of medical at my command, and then to the Naval Inspector General.
They investigated and sent me a letter stating “that though your medical care was acceptable, the insensitive and uncoordinated manner in which it was delivered caused you unnecessary hardships and frustrations. As a result, your case has been designated as a “lesson learned” and presented in an abstract case format to all medical department staff. Further, the Commanding Officer of each of the medical commands involved in your care have been directed to review and improve their policies and procedures for ensuring “patient sensitive” communications and coordinated referrals.”
The next time I went to the GYN Doctor, he told me he needed to do another pelvic exam. He left the room, and I undressed and got on the table. He came back in with another male doctor and had me put my feet in the stirrups, and then they started questioning me about the letter I sent to the Inspector General as they did the exam. It was painful, and I felt intimidated, and then I felt nothing. I disassociated.
Total aloneness: Boom! I was no longer part of something bigger than myself. I was no longer part of anything. For me, no family was waiting, no significant other. Disassociated and isolated, I began my life as a civilian.