My Trip to the VA

I just had my semi-annual check up at the VAMC in Iowa City. I've been there many times before and this trip seemed to be pretty routine until the nurse asked me if I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
"Probably" I told her.
She looked at me with concern and asked "well"?
I knew in my heart that I should shut-up, instead I told her of the events of 1980. It started with getting shot in a bar room brawl, then I proceeded to tell her about finding the mutilated corpse of a teenage prostitute, then getting picked up for drunk driving and finally having a sesiure at work.
"Your drinking problem and the seizure were a direct result of PTSD" she stated . She thought I should see someone about it.
"No" I told her, "that all happened a long time ago, I'll be fine" She was not very happy with me.
I wanted to puke.
I didn't want PTSD, but it was too late, it couldn't be unsaid.
I wanted to tell her about my friend Paul. He was an Army Medic and won the Bronze Star in 1968. He survives on booze and dope and Valium. He has PTSD.
I wanted to tell her about my friend Bill. He served on the USS Forrestal. In 1967 he watched 134 of his shipmates burn to death. He survives on booze and dope and Valium. He has PTSD.
I wanted to tell her all sorts of hurtful things, but I couldn't.
I wanted to puke.
The VA nurse who interviewed me was young and pretty, competent and compassionate, but she was wrong. I don't have PTSD, but a lot of people do. If she stays at the VA long enough, she will understand.
Next time I will keep my mouth shut.