how I came to be "married to PTSD"
We met in 2002. He was an enthusiastic and outstanding paramedic, and I a fresh and ambitious pharmacist. We helped others. It was – is – our shared passion.
We married in 2006.
We vowed to take each other, to have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.
No one can know what those words might have in store for you down the track. No one can know how much those vows will be tested through the years.
It was 2011 when we had our first real taste of worse.
We had already welcomed two darling babies into our world, when a most unwelcome stranger started hammering on our door. For a time, we tried our best to ignore the persistent noise, but clearly, this was not going to go away unheard.
And so, into our fold barged PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – in all its ruthless and beastly glory, and our lives have never been the same since. More than ten years being on the frontline with Australian Ambulance had eventually taken its toll.
It’s now 2017, and we have become a family of five, but worse is still very much with us. My husband may be the one with the diagnosis, but we all live with PTSD.