I am the daughter of a Vietnam Veteran, John S. Nix who served with the US Army between1968 to 1971.
After serving two tours in Vietnam, Dad was sent home in 1971. Although he didn’t die there, he never really came home. I was born in 1973, and my parents divorced two years later. I was not raised around him. He never came to holidays, told me Happy Birthday, or I love you. He was just absent.
I am 43 years old today and for the first time, I now know, why I never had my Dad in my life and why my Grandma was heartbroken, and lost her first born, and only son to Vietnam, why my Mother left, and took me with her. He lost us, and we lost him. He never had quality of life again after Vietnam. Vietnam has torn apart 4 generations of my family now. I spent my life thinking Dad chose Heroin, over his only child. He was diagnosed in the 70’s with drug induced Paranoid Schizophrenia. That is all I knew my whole life.
I made a decision in March 2015, a decision to try and know my Dad before it was too late. I had always wanted to know him, but sadly it was not in the cards for he and I. Just 3 weeks later I got a phone call from a family member telling me he had been taken by ambulance to the ER, for a Heart Attack. By the time I was notified, he had checked out. I immediately went to his home, where he greeted me with a smile and said he was just diagnosed with stage 4 Lung Cancer, and given 4-6 months to live. Alone, strangers together, who now had only each other, and we were both scared to death. He was back in the hospital two days later for another Heart Attack. I tried to get him to come home with me but he refused, saying he didn’t feel well, so I let him stay in his home where he was comfortable, and had lived for 25 years. I checked on him DAILY. I spent every moment I could with him, trying to know him and keep him comfortable, and make some memories. I told me stories about him and my Mom. I will forever be thankful for those stories. My Mom passed three years ago, and she never spoke of him my whole life.
Exactly 17 days later, I went to check on him, I knocked, but he didn’t answer. He never leaves his house. At that moment, I knew my worst fear was coming true right then. I went inside my Dad’s home and called his name twice. It was very dark and there was no response, so I called 911. I was so afraid he was dead inside. By this time, I’m crying, scared…. This time they took him to a hospital 45 minutes away. I knew that wasn’t good. I called immediately, and they transferred me to the CCU. The attending Dr. got on the phone, and said he was sorry, but my Dad had passed within the hour. My aunt knew for hours where he was, but never called me until it was too late. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
I only got 17 days with my Dad. Words cannot express the guilt I feel, knowing what I know now. I was left to try and come up with the money for his cremation, which was his wish, and to be brought home and placed next to my Mom. I am a single parent of a child with Autism, and I had no money for his cremation, and no one to ask for help. So he laid there, in that funeral home, for the next 17 days while I tried to make miracles happen. They never did. The funeral home finally offered up a casket to bury him in a National Cemetery, not what he wanted, but at that point, I had no choice. I took the casket offered by the funeral home, because I couldn’t bare the thought that he had still not been laid to rest.
I called the cemetery to see when he would be laid to rest and was told the next morning. I asked if I should be there. Please know I have NEVER had to bury anyone ever before now. She told me NO, that most people wait for the Headstone to be placed and then come. I now know, that YES, I should’ve been there, and I had every right to be there, but I listened to them and didn’t go.
I then over the next few days started arranging Honors for him. If he had to be buried there, I was going to give him the Honor he deserved. The funeral home assured me they’d make the calls. I showed up with my son, who never got to meet him and excited to see his Grandpa Honored for his service and sacrifice to our country. But the cemetery never scheduled the Honors. I was horrified. Not only was he one of the forgotten Vietnam Veterans, he was now forgotten beyond his death. I have spent everyday since he died, piecing his life together, through records, because that’s all I’ve got left now, that and about 40 letters he had written from Vietnam, home to his Mom, and 9 books full of his art he’s drawn over the last 30 or so years.
I have navigated the VA entirely on my own and spent hundreds and hundreds of hours researching US codes and 38 CFR. I have been misguided, misinformed, uninformed and lied to by my CVSO, and another Veterans Service Organization, to the point where I had to record my conversations, and get my Senator involved, who then got The State Director of Veteran’s Affairs involved. I knew nothing about the Military, The VBA, VHA, or Agent Orange, until 17 days before he passed, and I had to start making phone calls to get him some help, or hospice etc.
My Dad was service connected at 10% for Tinnitus, and 70% “non-service” connected for Schizophrenia. He was denied twice for service connection, rated permanent and total, and stuck on a meager disability pension. He spent the next 45 years, untreated, and living in solitude, dumpster diving for food at the end of his life. I received his C file in January. Upon return from Vietnam, he spent 3 months in the neuropsychiatry ward at Walter Reed then discharged early. Over the next few years, there were several stays at a VA hospital, where he was diagnosed with three more mental illnesses, with the last being Schizophrenia in 1976. They denied him service connection for drug addiction, and the Schizophrenia. My Dad was a high school student who played basketball, had a great family, and lots of friends before he joined the Army in 1968. He went to Germany for 9 months and then volunteered to go to Vietnam with the 4th Infantry Division. He then extended to 1st Cav. and did a second tour. He was deemed mentally sound upon entry to the military. He did not come out that way, nor did he ever have a normal life again. I have all his aptitude scores upon entry, and exit. How on this earth was his Schizophrenia claim ever denied? I have so many documents supporting the claim.
I’m not even sure he was Schizophrenic now, because PTSD was not a diagnosis until 1980. The symptoms overlap each other. I have no history of Schizophrenia in my family. I am also dealing with a whole other side to this story. The living conditions I found him living in, that property managers knew about. Been fighting them since the day he died too. Apparently no one in Oregon, not one agency or official, enforces the Habitability Law we have here. So, why do we even have it? There are over 30 agencies that I have contacted about this.
I wrote Robert McDonald seven months after I filed a claim for a non-service connected burial benefit of $300. I explained to him, that to have to wait an entire year for $300 is unacceptable. The Under Secretaries office called me the next day, and informed me that my Dad’s death had been service connected, due to Agent Orange exposure. My Dad never knew it was dangerous. I had the fully service connected death benefit and chapter 35 award in my hands, 4 days later.
I was the squeaky wheel that wasn’t going away.
There are two things I want the VA to change.
1) Do not send a mentally ill Veteran a check every single month for 45 years, without requesting him/her to be seen for continuance of benefits.
2) NEVER LET A VETERAN NOT BE LAID TO REST for two weeks because of a family hardship.
The VA should STEP IN and TAKE CARE of their Soldier/Veteran.
~ Laurie Nix Colgegrove
Veteran Stories Compiled by Jenny La Sala www.JennyLasala.com
