This is the first (rough draft) installment of a major article about PTSD and how you can be helped.
a blog article on helping victims of PTSD, using the exact conversation that I had with a 15 year veteran ambulance driver who showed up at the Swiss Air Crash with a big open heart to help.
He was overwhelmed by his participation, in a disaster that included, thousands of body parts, floating heads, feet (amongst a soup of guts) until they were scooped up, put in garbage bags and thrown into the back of a 2 ton truck.
The information was never released to the public that the Plane had crashed directly into the Giant Ocean Buoy which marked the Ocean Passage. The steel buoy’s girders sliced through the plane and cut everything into tiny pieces. A soup of ‘guts’ marked the spot where the plane crashed and the buoy sank.
His boss called me because they were worried that he (the driver) was going to commit suicide. The driver called me and we spoke for a 1/2 hr.
It started with me telling him about him ..in the morning …sitting in his kitchen watching his wife making coffee and getting so angry..angrier by the second… that he could scream out loud and shout: “How Can You make coffee!! Don’t you realize the entire world has changed!!!”
The driver’s voice changed from forlorn to uplifted, when he responded to me. He said: Yes!!!. That’s right!!
I told him: ” You feel alone. You feel like the entire world is different, from you. You feel like everyone, around you is a zombie. They don’t have a clue what is going on in the world. Nobody understands you. You can’t speak with anyone. Your pain and loneliness is unbearable.
He said: “Yes…that is it….”
I said:” This is NORMAL. EVERYONE goes thru this. If you didn’t react , this way, then there would be something wrong with you. You are NOT alone. I completely understand you.”
He was relieved ad started speaking in a calm and normal voice.
After I told him what he was thinking and feeling. I told him about me.
I told him about some of the horrors that I had experienced. I told him that I could still feel the bodies of squashed new born infants, rolling under my stomach as I crawled over them to save a crying baby. I told him that the crawl space was so small that there was no room and no option. I had to crawl over them or let the baby die. I told him more horror about this. More disgusting details.
Next, I told him about crawling thru a collapsed school and all the children were crushed under their desks. Only a little hand or foot or blood oozing out from underneath. I told him that I wondered why the children weren’t in the aisles, where they would have been safe. I told him about the big sewer rats that were eating the body of the young teacher. She was wearing a short skirt and high heels. They were eating her guts. One of them looked up at me, defiantly covered with blood. I gave him a blast of energy , a scream of vengeance/sheer power, like never before, in my life, from the bottom of my soul. They fled, in terror, of me.
I told him another example. I believe it was about my experiences, in Kosovo. I told him about the kid in Kosovo, whose picture I have hanging in my home. I am comforting him with my arms holding him tight, as I feel his pain. He was forced to watch, with the entire town’s population as the Serbian Monsters hired by President Milosovich’s political financier, to be his private army committed their obscenities, on his sister.
The goal was to get everything that the Kososo people possessed. The Financier had his private army; composed of criminals, insane murders, the most fearsome people possible.
This private army came into occupied areas after the regular military conquered it. They would gather all the people into the town square, to frighten them so badly that they fled , into the mountains, without taking money, clothes or food. They left their doors open. They just fled in terror.
The Financier would have his people collect everything from cars to baby clothes to ship back to Serbia, for resale. He would own all the homes and properties and sell them to Serbians who would immigrate to the area. This is the deal that he struck with the President, his political flunkie.
I told him about this little boy who witnessed his young sister being dragged into the public square. Her arms and legs were hacked off; while, she screamed. Next, a gun was put to her father’s head as he was forced to rape the torso of his daughter. I told him how I helped this little boy and how My heart was so hurt out of compassion, for him.
The little boy, on my right witnessed a monstrous atrocity committed against his sister and father.
I told the ambulance driver that he must make the most important decision of his life. What to do next. I gave him his options:
1) Continue on acting the way you are and become a drunk, a drug addict, lose everything and everyone, in your life and finally hang yourself.
2) Understand that you are not alone, that it is normal and that you need to recover and be in charge of your life.
3) Consider, your experience to be a great motivator to be a better person , to be more compassionate, more understanding and more loving and caring.
He relied: “If you can deal with ALL THAT then I can deal with this.”
The ambulance driver’s boss called me back thanking me profusely and bewildered at the change, for the better, in his friend.
As far as I know; he was cured.
doug copp
Doug Copp's Blog 