Good afternoon everyone.
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for having me.
Long live the King!
My name is Michel Marceau. I'm a veteran of the Canadian Armed Forces. I served in Afghanistan as a member of Task Force 1-09.
Here are my observations.
First is the red tape mentioned by journalist Patricia Rainville, who wrote a series of articles on the subject. She really hit the nail on the head, because that's exactly what's happening. We have to fight tooth and nail to get what we should be getting without even needing to ask.
I left the military 12 years ago. I don't even have a family doctor. All through the winter, the Veterans Affairs agent, who was very polite, kept telling me that I did have one. I called my family doctor 12 times over seven years only to be told each time to call back in a year. I ended up going to the private sector for $2,000 a year. I don't have a family doctor, which makes me wonder: why do newcomers to Canada who come in illegally have a family doctor whereas veterans like me and families like Mrs. Anderson's, who went through much worse things than I did, can't even get one?
I complained to the ombudsman in 2017, but nothing changed. I went on a hunger strike for 10 days last year, including 28 hours without drinking. I would do it again without thinking twice. I'm not here to make threats or to get on anybody's nerves—sorry, my hands are sweating like crazy because Mrs. Anderson's testimony deeply moved me.
Another aspect is that transitioning from military to civilian life takes way too long. In 2025, we're in the digital era—click here, press “Enter” and my file should be passed along.
Members of the military like myself swore allegiance to the King. My allegiance will never falter. If the King was in Quebec City tomorrow morning and somebody tried to shoot him, I'd take a bullet for him and die a glorious death. I'd die a happy man. I know it's not a normal thing to say, but that's what allegiance is. You can't explain it, it's just in you.
When we see people burning Canadian flags around the world, it makes people like me sick. The Taliban were given $180 million. It's not the first time, so I don't think I have to say more about that. Facebook removes all posts about veterans. I posted a very polite and respectful comment yesterday asking my veteran buddies for advice on what to say so that I don't speak only for myself. We're stigmatized by society.
Let me tell you my little personal horror story. There's nothing special about me, these kinds of things happen to lots of folk. Case in point, you have this committee with fine people like you showing empathy and taking the time to listen to veterans and using their professionalism to try to help us. I really appreciate it.
In 2010, I was diagnosed with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. From July 2 to October 15, 2015, I was deeply addicted to antidepressants and completely lost my mind. I called the good old Clinique pour traumatismes liés au stress opérationnel—the TSO clinic—in Loretteville, and the bunch of Dr. Frankensteins who work there. For three and a half months, they didn't listen to my calls. I called Veterans Affairs 10 or 20 times.
Ironically, I'm still the same guy who served in the Canadian Armed Forces. I had security clearance and was 100% trustworthy. When I left the military, I went from hero to absolute zero. Not just me, but my buddies too. It's the same for everyone.
When you leave the Armed Forces, it's simple: take your pills, cash in your cheque and shut your yap. No one wants to hear about your experience in Afghanistan anymore. In fact, that experience has all but disappeared from the military. There's only a handful of brave souls who still possess it. Lobbies are pushing hard to make it go away.
Now, with the top-notch care I got from the TSO clinic and the complete negligence by Veterans Affairs Canada, which was abysmal in my case, why am I so frustrated and bitter? I had a reaction to antidepressants for the third time. It's clearly written in my file, spelled out in black and white. The drugs Cipralex, Cymbalta and Pristiq almost killed me. I went into psychiatric care four times and made two failed suicide attempts.
I have a son who lives on the street because I took some crap called Seroquel for six years. I was sleeping all day, so he became homeless.
I want to highlight the testimony from the Vietnam veteran, a Native American gentleman. I want to say the exact same thing he did as I wrap up. Without going so far as to say that I'm fully recovered, for a little over a year, I've felt a lot better. I did the exact opposite of what I was told. I live like a soldier. I have a backpack at the foot of my bed. I'm ready to go. I won't be going to Afghanistan and there won't be any bombs dropping in my backyard, but if my 78-year-old mother who lives in Normandin, in Lac-Saint-Jean, isn't feeling well, I can just grab my stuff and I'm ready to go with my boy.
Doctors don't understand what guys like me go through because they don't want to read On Combat. It's a book written by a psychologist and lieutenant colonel. He describes exactly what guys like Mrs. Anderson's husband, the Vietnam vet and I go through. It's 100% spot-on.
I feel better because I accepted my true nature. I need stress and danger. Going back to civilian life is like putting on the brakes all of a sudden. Everything's too slow. You get comfortable. You meet one gentleman here, and another there, and you have to talk about your emotions. You take a couple of pills at first, then you end up taking 12. One pill makes your legs shake, so you take another one to stop the shaking, and you take another one to be a good partner to your significant other, if you know what I mean. It's horrible.
I stopped taking pills. I'm not against pills per se, but I'm against the ones that do nothing or cause harm. I'm aware of my condition. I keep it under control. I'm a yoga master. I know I don't look the part, but I can do all the poses. Yoga, martial arts and spirituality is what got me through it, like the Vietnam vet.
In closing, I want to thank former MP Luc Desilets, who worked hard on my case, Ms. Gaudreau, who showed enough professionalism and empathy to continue that work, and journalist Patricia Rainville. I salute everyone here today and all the families of veterans who died in Afghanistan. Respect, and long live the King!
Sorry, I'm feeling a little faint.