by Taylor MacHenry
On Monday, October 16, 2023, we will begin National Buddy-Check Week. A time when Veterans call 10 buddies and make sure that these brother and sister warriors are doing well and not circling the emotional drain.

My problem is that I can’t think of 10 friends that I can call. Much less veterans.
But the message is a good one. Veterans relate to veterans, especially when we have served together in bad places. Especially when life has become less fun.
Interesting experience yesterday at the Veterans’ Outpatient Clinic in Colorado Springs. I went there for an audiology check up. That means hearing test. It will ensure that when I take off my hearing aids I avoid conversations that end in arguments.
That’s a joke. And I probably need to qualify myself and my joking around a lot more.
At the audiology appointment, this very attractive young woman doctor took care of my hearing needs, and part of the appointment involved a questionnaire that had some questions that obviously fulfilled a requirement from on high to red-flag veterans that came in and seemed maladjusted, teetering on the edge or just plain crazy.
Of course, I failed the test. Red flags went flying like those at Edson Range at Camp Pendleton with the Santa Ana winds blowing hard. But me? I am oblivious. And when the attractive doctor wanted to hold my hand and walk me upstairs to the Mental Health section of the clinic, I was flattered.
Then, as I began to fill out paperwork and the doctor offered to help me check the boxes, reality set in.
I have a warped sense of humor. I am a Marine. Case closed. Our damnation is our telling the truth, even the ugly stuff and not wincing when we tell it. Like just another picnic gone wrong.

So, I go in for a hearing test and end up in the loony bin with a mental health case worker asking me questions about intending to hurt myself. “You mean, eat a bullet?” I said, grinning. She was shocked. Blinked. And then said, “Yes.”
“I have PTSD. Check the record,” I said. Eating a bullet is a common thought among any Marine who went to war. Most of us will not act on it, and I was clear about it too. I am too selfish and narcissistic and cowardly to really put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.
Most of us are, if we’re honest. And most of us think it too, also if we are being honest.
I told the mental health doctor that I then saw after intake that I am pretty common among most 75 year old Marines who have looked the Devil in the eye and lived to tell of it. Life gets painful and ugly as we grow old. We might be 19 on the inside but we remain our biological age where the body and exterior come into play. My spine, three fractured vertebra after landing wrong, bunging up my left ankle and knee too, visit me now, every moment of every day. Pain is a constant. Spinal surgery to replace the sack of concrete that grew over those wrecked backbones, cutting them out and putting in bone grafts, titanium rods, screws, spacers and a few wires, which freed the spinal cord and sciatic nerves stopped me from landing in a wheelchair, a paraplegic, but the process still disabled me. Left me walking funny, limping, unable to walk on uneven ground, chronic pain and frustrating disability where putting on socks and tying my shoes become challenging if not impossible at times. Legs suffering muscle atrophy, neuropathy and worse. Everything that matters from the waist down quit working. Thankfully, I do not wear diapers.
Not yet.
As life becomes more painful, and all my friends have gone to Jesus, my family too, the thought of this life ending begins to brighten in the mind of an old Marine.
When the doctor asked how many guns I owned, I responded with dumbness, evasiveness, and dodged the question overall. My guns are my guns, and my business. Taking my guns will not prevent my death, if I decided it is time.
But like I said, I am a cowardly narcissist and love myself too much to quit now.
I am a Christian and I believe that God will take me when He is ready for me.
I am not a danger to myself, and certainly not a danger to others. I cannot imagine taking a life or hurting anyone because I love hunting but cannot pull the trigger because I cannot take a life. Not even a deer or a rabbit. Catching a fish makes me feel bad, but those trout do taste good.
When I finally left the VA clinic, I was miffed, just a bit. Then I got to thinking that probably there are many other Veterans who don’t love themselves as much as I love me. Odds are certain that many of them will take their own lives today. Right now!
What those VA doctors and healthcare workers are doing, even checking bunions of bad feet, may save a Veteran’s life by doing exactly what my audiology doctor did. Take their hands and walk them upstairs to the mental health section and put them in the hands of people who do really care and want to help a Veteran make the pain go away.
That is a good thing.
The shrink at the VA clinic did ask me one important question: “Do you have someone you can call? If you do make a decision to take your life?”
I thought of it for a minute. I cannot talk to my wife about it. She loves me but does not understand. Nor can I call my sons because they love me but do not understand what is in a Veteran’s wrecked mind. But I do have a friend. A brother Marine who suffers the same kind of PTSD that I do. He saw me lose my mind when my son pushed my buttons and triggered my vocal wrath. He said to me, “I have done exactly that same thing with my daughter. PTSD. It’s the shits.”
Just those words rescued me. Yes, my buddy, my brother Marine knew because he lives the same mind mess that I do.
I told the doctor, “Yes, I have a brother Marine who lives close to me. My friend. A hard core warrior. I can call him because he gets it.”
The doctor smiled. Good. Fellow veterans are the best people to call when life becomes too much of a struggle.
So, my brothers and sisters, my fellow Spartans. Call your brother or sister today and make sure that they have you to call, and that you can call them.
Such a thing might save your dearly loved brother or sister warrior’s life, and save their family devastation and heartbreak.
It just might save your life too. And prevent your dearly loved family the devastation and heartbreak of your loss.
Semper FI.



