My Friend Ron

While I worked for the VA I used to say I had 1500 children, of them I had about 50 very special vets, ones who touched my life in many ways and that I was closest to.
I am now in the process of writing a term paper for school on schizophrenia, and it brought up memories of one of my very special vets, I am actually doing my paper on him and the effects of his illness on his everyday life from my perspective. He died a couple years ago, but I did get permission from his sisters to use his case in my paper, and I have agreed not to use his last name to protect his and their privacy.
I can not remember when I fist met Ron, or when we became friends it just sort of evolved over a period of time. He was a 55 year old Vietnam Veteran who had been diagnosed with PTSD, schizophrenia and Bi Polar disease, in the beginning he was a very non compliant patient, he did not come to appointments, did not take medications as prescribed, and generally did not take care of himself. I began to call him to make his appointments and eventually he came to trust me, I would call him and let him know I needed him to come in, he would call me when he got there, I would meet him outside and take him right into the back room so he did not have to deal with people in the waiting room. Ron believed the government was going to "blow him up" so when his pills would arrive in the mail he would have to put them in the cupboard for 7 days, then when they did not blow up he could get them out and take them, the problem with this was, he would forget they were there, so he would call me after he had not taken them for several days to tell me he did not have any meds and was having some serious "episodes", we worked out a system, I would order his pills, he would call me the day they arrived, I would mark the day on my calender and seven days later I would call him to let him know it was time, then while I was on the phone with him he would open the cupboard and take them out, as long as he stayed medicated he actually did fairly well. My favorite memory of him was the day he called to tell me he remembered he had an appointment the next day so he had showered (schizophrenic people are not terribly concerned about hygiene) combed his hair and beard, washed his clothes and was all ready to come in, he always came in the same pair of purple sweat pants and a red flannel shirt, and he always made me smile, the fact that he took the time to prepair himself and remembered his appointment on his own touched me immensely. As time went on I saw him come out of his shell somewhat, he lived in a small cabin up in the woods and kept to himself at all times, but once we got him on a regular schedule with his medication he began to venture out a little, he called one day to tell me he had entered a fishing contest at the lake by where he lived and he had even taken a minute to stop by the road and say hello to his neighbor on his way home. Ron never would go to therapy and he never did choose to tell me what happened in Vietnam to make him the way he was, I can only assume that is where his problems began since from all accounts I could find from his records, and talking to him and his sisters he lead a vary normal young life, it was a few years after returning home from the war that he just took off and ended up in the mountains of Colorado.
He died alone in his cabin one day, he had a stroke, his sisters came out to take care of all the arrangments and they came in to meet me, they said he had spoken of me often and they wanted to meet the person who had touched their brothers heart when it seemed noone could get in.
The point of this blog....well there is none really except a trip down memory lane for me and a the hope that wherever he is now, I hope Ron knew he touched my life as well. You were my friend Ron and you are missed.