Battling PTSD

December 26, 2011 at 12:00a.m.

Chicago Tribune

It was just after midnight when former Marine Cpl. James Dahan was awakened by a faint noise in the distance.

Except for the glare of his flashlight, there was darkness all around as he crept from room to room, searching for an unknown enemy.

Windows sealed: check. Doors locked: check. Building secure: check.

Yet with people pacing about upstairs, voices he did not recognize billowing through the walls and the incessant roar of traffic outside, he dared not fall asleep. So he stayed up all night repeating the routine over and over again.

Dahan returned from Iraq seven years ago. But the horrors of war followed him home.

On that night last month, there had been a power outage at his apartment in Lisle, Ill., unleashing memories of the war zone. He stood guard over his sleeping son, while the noises of his neighbors moving about kept Dahan on edge.

The enemy existed only in his mind.

The last convoy of U.S. troops left Iraq on Dec. 18, but for thousands of veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, the haunting memories might never go away. Since the Iraq and Afghanistan wars began a decade ago, the U.S. Veterans Affairs has treated more than 212,000 combat veterans for PTSD, an anxiety disorder resulting from traumatic events during war.

More than 2,200 Iraq-era cases of PTSD are being treated in Illinois, in addition to more than 400 cases of traumatic brain injury (TBI), a medical condition caused by head trauma.

The costs are high. According to a report by Harvard University professor Linda Bilmes, who has spent years tracking money spent in the war on terror, the long-term costs of caring for the nation’s wounded veterans could cost $201 billion to $348 billion over the next 40 years, plus $355 billion to $534 billion in disability payments.

Though the number of Iraq-era veterans treated for PTSD is only a fraction of those from the Vietnam era, their experiences are different, veteran advocates said, because troops constantly risked attack.

“The multiple deployments and the type of attacks from the enemy are not the traditional types seen in the past with clearly defined battlefields,” said Steve Nardizzi, executive director of the Wounded Warrior Project, a group formed to support service members injured in Iraq and Afghanistan.

“There is no entering the battlefield and retreating to a safe environment. At any given time and any given moment, the street you are driving down might have an IED (improvised explosive devise), or someone shooting at you or someone walking up with a hand-held grenade.”

Experts said getting veterans into counseling is difficult because admitting a mental disorder is often viewed as a weakness, especially for troops who are taught to be fearless. But often, according to counselors, their eyes tell the true story.

“There seems to be a consistent recurring pattern where guys will come home from deployment and they’re still in a war zone, they are on a constant state of readiness and hyper-alert, and it’s hard to come down from that,” said Capt. Scott Andrews, an Illinois National Guard chaplain who counsels troops. “But you can always look in their eyes and see when they’re not sleeping.”

Some veterans have thrived despite their physical and mental injuries, finding new ways to channel their energy by climbing mountains, public speaking or mentoring other wounded troops. But the majority of those with PTSD or brain injuries suffer silently.

They enroll in college, but find it difficult to concentrate on their school work. They return to wives and children, but often those relations falter under the stress. They drive too fast or drink too much in an attempt to replicate the adrenaline rush they felt in the war zone. Sometimes, they sink into drug addiction. Sometimes they take their own lives.