Daniel Piotrowski tries to start every day with a win. It’s simple stuff, though not always.
“I struggle with routines. I make coffee in the morning, either that or I make the bed. Those are my two routines that I do flawlessly. This morning, I actually made coffee wrong, so I had to take away one of my wins. It sounds stupid, but that’s the life I live.”
Dan laughs as he describes this daily process, though he could just as easily scream with frustration, and he’s not alone. The Department of Defense (DOD) estimates nearly 350,000 veterans of the Forever Wars suffer from so called blast-induced traumatic brain injuries (bTBI). A 2011 study funded by the Department of Veterans Affairs calls bTBI the “signature wound” of these conflicts. As the world marks the 20th anniversary of 9/11, the wars are over. Not for the wounded and disabled veterans and their families who deal with the signature wounds every day. Not for SGT Daniel Piotrowski, Army Veteran.
Dan Piotrowski was my neighbor. He grew up across the street from us, the adopted son of parents who cherished him. Dan gave 22 years of military service to America that included multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. And he got hurt, often. Running nearly the length of his arm is a tattoo of a Purple Heart. He was awarded two for wounds from bomb blasts. The first was in Iraq in 2005.
“It was buried under asphalt and just not gravel, and I was told when the blast actually blew, it went straight up instead of outward. That bowling ball chunk of asphalt that hit me, blowing me 10 feet backwards, it blew me away from the debris. I took shrapnel in the thigh.”
It was a so-called “million dollar wound” that temporarily pulled Dan out of combat to heal physically. Then, the emotional trauma kicked in.
“That one messed me up for a while. I returned home from that deployment, and I was never a big drinker, and I would drink until I blacked out. I couldn’t fathom how I was still here and still had all the parts of my body. And the guilt of all my buddies who lost arms on minor things. I could never fathom, could never wrap my head around it, and it really messed me up.”
Back Into Action
He went against his parents’ wishes and asked the Army to send him back into action. They obliged. His second Purple Heart came in Afghanistan two months after Navy Seals killed Osama bin Laden. Dan arrived at his base after a day of training. It was July 13, 2011.
“I was flown in by helicopter 1:30 in the morning. At 6:15 in the morning, I get violently blown out of my bed. I was in a bunk bed that was just a spring bed with a small little mattress. The pressure of this blast pushed me down into the springs and launched my ass out of it. Messed my equilibrium up for almost two weeks. This was a dump truck filled with two thousand pounds of explosive, and it detonated 10 feet out of our south wall, but from where it detonated to where our barracks were, we were less than half a football field away.”
By some miracle, only the truck bomber died, though Dan believes the bTBI damaged all 23 soldiers in his unit. There were 24 other bomb attacks that didn’t send him to hospitals most experienced while on patrol inside a Bradley Fighting Vehicle.
“They’d blow off to the side, the front, or the rear, and you still caught some of that shockwave. We had a couple that were pretty big in Iraq when we were in the Bradley’s. The pressure inside the Bradley burst every button on our uniforms. I watched my last deployment a 40,000-pound mine resistant vehicle leave the ground about six feet - all four wheels - six feet off the ground after hitting an IED that was under a run-off (storm sewer).”
Damaging Days At The Office
Dan’s recalls the blasts as if this was just another day at the office, though studies show it was anything but routine. Researchers at John Hopkins University found that when an IED triggers, the brain absorbs the shockwave from the initial blast and then continues to vibrate for hundreds of milliseconds. Imagine that happening to you 26 times. It’s left Dan in an emotional and physical struggle.
“I go through these really depressive states. I was always the nice guy in all my units. They would call me ‘he’s the nice guy.’ It would take me forever to get angry, and now it’s at the flip of a switch. I’m not a violent person. I’m not throwing stuff across rooms. But my brain can’t handle stressful. If something’s coming at me really fast, and I’m in an argument, and it’s coming at me really fast, my brain just shuts down. There’s too much noise.”
“I’ve been a human book at Mesa Community College talking to some students. By doing that, it lessens the effect of it or the emotions of it.”
Dan mustered out in 2012 and in the nine years since, worked through the injuries with the help of his girlfriend, Kelley. She’s a certified military caregiver who Dan says has a “huge burden” placed on her. He also confronts his injuries through public speaking.
“I talk about my experience and that’s the most beneficial thing about all of it. I’m very open to it. Anyone who will ask, I tell them my story. I’ve done two public speeches and had to choke my way through the whole thing, but I completed it. I’ve been a human book at Mesa Community College talking to some students. By doing that, it lessens the effect of it or the emotions of it.”
The Invisible Injury
Dan calls bTBI an invisible injury, something that even his family and closest friends don’t understand,. Researchers agree with his assessment. In America’s early wars, a wound most often resulted in death. As evacuations from battle improved and military trauma medicine became more sophisticated, the survival rate for Iraq and Afghanistan jumped to 88 percent. More combatants came home alive, and while their physical wounds are obvious, bTBI isn’t, though civilian awareness is growing.
“I’m a people person. I do like going out and being around people and doing things, but they don’t see my daily life. Even with my parents, my Mom really doesn’t see my life living with Kelley. Unfortunately, Kelley has to take a lot of the brunt. Not fair. Not fair at all for her health, but she keeps me on track as much as she can.”
This is a veteran’s life nearly 20 years after 9/11. bTBI likely will be with him always. Every day, he’ll work to master simple chores. Still, Dan remembers with pride that when his nation needed him, he answered the call. He strongly believes that serving his country and staying alive is a victory.
“I went back out there, and by doing that, in my brain, didn’t let that insurgent, that one person who pushed that button to blow me up, win.”
“While I was laying in bed recouping from that blast, I would play over and over and over and over, you know, why am I still here? It pushed me to get back out there. I just kept telling myself, I’m still worthy to serve with my brothers, and that’s all I focused on. I’m getting back out there if I have to walk through downtown Baghdad by myself. I’m getting to my unit. The amount of respect from my guys, that I talked to very routinely, it’s still l there, and I’m very proud of that. I don’t think my parents were very enthused, I could have easily said I’m done and I chose not to. It made me a better soldier in the long run.”
The Costs of the 9/11 Wars
As you pause to honor those lost on 9/11, consider this stunning assessment by Brown University’s Watson Institute of International and Public Affairs.
“Between 2001 and 2050, the total cost of caring for veterans of the post-9/11 wars are estimated to reach between $2.2 and $2.5 trillion…The high cost of providing medical care, disability and other benefits to post-9/11 veterans reflects the intensity of what has transpired over the past two decades. These young men and women have served longer tours of duty, been exposed to more raw combat, and suffered much higher rates of disability that during any previous U.S. war.”
I want to personally thank Dan Piotrowski for providing a deeply personal and very detailed account of his war experience. And, of course, thanks to Dan and all our veterans for your service.