Family Circle - September 19, 1995
By Jackie Olsen as told to Tom Clavin
As an American, I was happy when the Gulf War ended in victory
in early 1991. As a mother, I was overjoyed that
two of my sons, Scott and Tom, who fought in the war, were coming home.
It never occurred to me that for my sons and thousands of other Gulf vets, the
war was far from over.
My husband, John, and I have seven children, three girls and four boys. When
two of our boys joined the Marines, we
were proud, especially John, who had served in the Army. Tom, who was 21, went
to the Gulf with the first ships in the
fall of 1990. Scott was 23 and went in January with the ground troops.
We worried about them, but knew they would do their duty. Both were fine men.
Scott was kind of serious and quiet.
At home I could always find him doing things outside, especially working on
cars he fixed up. Rain or snow, he'd
never quit until a job was done.
Tom was more happy-go- lucky. It had to be tough sailing into
a war zone, but I'11 bet he was the most popular guy
on the ship.
What a blessing when the fighting ended so quickly, and what enormous relief
we felt when we learned that Scott and Tom were O.K.
Or so we thought. The boys were stationed at their camp here in the United States
before they came home to us. On the phone Tom was still the same jovial fellow.
But Scott seemed different. He was even quieter than usual, had a cough and
told us he was tired all the time.
One night the phone rang at 2 A.M. It was Scott, very upset.
He'd been watching TV, and there was a report about Gulf
vets with strange symptoms that doctors couldn't diagnose. The report used a
term, "Gulf War syndrome," to describe what was wrong. "Mom,
I'm sure I have that," he said, coughing.
Scott saw doctors while he was stationed at camp, and they told him nothing
was wrong. But when he came home eight months later, he still had no energy
and his cough was worse. Over a few months' time, he started getting rashes.
He had
pains in his joints, dizziness, shortness of breath and night sweats. Just taking
a walk tired him out.
I guess it was that winter it hit me that Scott wasn't just having a run of
bad luck but was seriously ill. It snowed, and as he
used to, Scott went to shovel out the driveway. But after a minute, I didn't
hear anything. I found him sitting on the steps, coughing. Just a few scoops,
and he couldn't lift the shovel.
Looking in his eyes, I got as scared as he was. I shoveled the snow, telling
him everything was all right, but it sure wasn't.
Scott went to the nearest VA hospital and to private doctors. The doctors either
just dismissed his symptoms or wrote
prescriptions. Meanwhile, Scott was worried that his illness might be contagious,
and moved out.
I went with him back to the VA hospital, insisting on more tests. The doctors
said that the black phlegm Scott coughed up was caused by the pollution on Long
Island. "Ridiculous!" we said. "John and I raised seven children
here, but only Scottwas
hurt by pollution?" What really made us mad was their insinuation that
Scott was faking to scam for benefits.
My son should have earned more respect from his Government.
I didn't know what to do. But one night when I couldn't sleep, I logged on to
my home computer. Through it, I'd recently
got on the internet, which linked me with people all over the country. I thought
maybe others have gone through this, and
sent a few questions out.
What came back that night, and for months afterward, shocked me. From every
corner of the country were messages from Gulf vets telling me they had problems
like Scott's or worse, much worse. A few even said they were dying. I was overwhelmed
by their pain and courage. Most agonizing of all were the stories of vets whose
children were sick, too--kids
who were all born after one or both parents returned horn the war.
I got angry. vets and their families shouldn't be abandoned to deal with their
pain in silence. If they needed somebody to
stand up for them, I thought, O.K., I'11 do it.
That's when Desert Storm Mom was born. I dug out old issues of the daily paper,
which had published names of Gulf veterans, and I called all the vets, inviting
them to a meeting. Forty showed up. Everyone had a story similar to Scott's.
As DStormMom@aol.com (my "address" on the Internet), I continued to
send and receive messages. There's something about talking by computer, you
really let it all hang out. There were many nights when I turned off my computer
crying,
and in Idaho or Tennessee or California I knew they were crying, too.
The vets' stories convinced me that I had to go beyond simply listening. These
people, like my son, were losing hope
along with strength.
I started sending letters and making calls to elected officials and Government
agencies. Of course it helped that I could
say that I represented thousands of vets. "Log on yourself," I said.
"See what's going on."
By May 1994 things were happening. I had accumulated a huge number of medical
reports and studies documenting the symptoms of Gulf War syndrome. Some veterans'
groups told me that up to 45,000 Gulf vets, out of 697,000 who served, could
be affected. Several senators and members of the House of Representatives were
holding subcommittee hearings to determine the validity of Gulf veterans' complaints,
and were interested in my research and in the personal stories of the vets them
selves. Sometimes I was invited to speak at these meetings, often by Michigan
Senator Donald Riegle Jr., who is now retired. Other times I'd learn about a
hearing, and I'd just show up and start talking. Occasionally vets themselves
would speak.
I was nervous at first. But I had the stories of all those veterans in my head--and
the image of Scott gasping on the front
steps--when I spoke, and they gave me strength.
One important panel I spoke to was organized by the National Institutes of Health,
chaired by Gareth Green, M.D., of the Harvard University School of Public Health.
After many of us spoke, the panel concluded that "an illness does exist
that is related to Gulf combat" and called for more research. That was
a breakthrough. Many of the other committees I spoke
with reached the same conclusions. Finally, in September 1994, I felt vindicated
when President Clinton signed legislation
to increase funds for research on ailing vets. Today there are over 30 different
studies under way, all funded or coordinated
by the Government.
Despite this success, I haven't given up my fight. My address on the Internet
is still an open channel, and every day I hear
from someone new. But I think most of Scott.
I've seen how crushed he is when people are hesitant to be around him because
of what he might transmit. Maybe worst
of ail is the way Scott refuses to hold his baby niece and nephew because he
loves them too much to risk hurting them.
I know it takes courage for Scott just to get up every day. "Mom, why should
I?" he asks me. "I'm sick all the time. I
can't even come home.
It's not just Scott. Recently I've become afraid for my son Tom too. For the
years after his service he seemed O.K. But
one night not long ago, he and his wife came over for dinner and a bottle of
pills fell out of his pocket. When I asked him
what they were, he told me he had short ness of breath and chest pains. A doctor
said it was stress, and prescribed tranquilizers.
He's only 25. I'm afraid all over again that I'll lose another son to war a
lot of people think is old news.
The Gulf War was America against Iraq. Now that war has come home. And if we
don't learn why our sons and daughters are sick, we'll have say we lost the
war.
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