I really fucking hate the VA – Chapter 3 

I had a buddy who once told me, “Welcome to the VA, here’s your percentage. Who the fuck knows what you qualify for. Have a great day!”

That’s accurate. Mike and I don’t talk anymore, but that phrase he said really stuck with me. 

I do my best to not interact with the VA daily. Or weekly. Hell, even yearly. I do my best, but for some reason I always seem to have to.

New diagnosis? Well they’ve made it so fuckin complicated you are actually forced to utilize a 3rd party like the DAV, VFA or VFW to submit it into your file. 

Stop and think about that for just one second. They’ve created a website, will mail the form out to you, or send it to you electronically but your have to have someone who specializes in submitting these forms in order for them to process it.

What went wrong? Why do they have these unnecessary steps and processes? Why is there so much red tape and beauracracy that it’s necessary for someone to specialize in the process before it can even be looked at?

So I call up the 800 number for the VA. “First I want to tell you thank you for your service to our country, it’s greatly appreciated.” (Sounding like it was read off a screen; dispassionately) “In order to file a change to your existing claim, you’ll need to utilize a third party like the DAV, VFA or VFW to help you file that claim.”

“Well can’t you just help me?”

“I can’t in this department, but I can give you the number to the department that can help.” They gave me the number that I called in the first place. Yeah. Like fucking that. 

Okay, so I contact the DAV. “You’re already at 100%, why do you want to add in PTSD and Fibromyalgia to your claim?” That’s what they told me. They helped a lot. 

I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to just bitch and groan and go on and on about that institution. And believe me, that’s not even half the story, I skipped a few parts in the middle and I didn’t even go into the conversations (plural) I had with them today, or even get into the backwards flow of their website. 

All I’ve done is tell you a snippet of the story. A microcosm into the reality of what it’s really like to use the VA system. And that’s just over the phone! I’ve already written a different story about what it’s like to go into one of their offices. 

“What point are you trying to make then?” Well that’s just it. I have no idea. Maybe that’s all it is, just bitching and moaning and going on and on about the frustrations I have. Frustrations that many other vets have. Those things that make your neck and shoulders so tight, make your fists curl, make your breath come quicker, make you want to scream forever at the thing that you can’t stand to hear, to look at, to be around. 

Perhaps I’m writing this because I can’t wrap my hands around its neck and throttle it back and forth while screaming “YOU FUCKING PIECE OF GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING SHIT FUCKING DIE GODDAMNIT FUCKING DIE!!!!!” 

Well. All that, and bitching and moaning, too. I really fucking hate the VA. 

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