It was huge, actually. My husband was very, very.... His percentage for PTSD was very high, and he was suicidal for six years in our basement. Every time I reached out for anything, I never got any support. It was a fight. I had to fight for everything, and there was never a case manager. I would call and talk to whoever it was. I would be sent to somebody else, or I would be put on hold for hours at a time. I would just sit there waiting.
I'm talking about all of his prescriptions and all of his different assessments, because there was assessment after assessment—all of that. There was no person I could call at one time. If we had one, it would have been awesome, because then she would know our story and she could have helped us more clearly, and helped my husband when he needed it, not to be passing the buck to this one or that one.
My husband's file was also on the minister's desk. It's been a roller coaster ride. I have two daughters, and guess what. “Veterans Affairs” are bad words to them. They think those are bad words in our house. That's how bad it's been.