‘It’s like no other ache in the world’ – Eagle-Tribune

U.S. Marine Corps Veteran Tommy Dubois shielded loved ones from his unkempt home and muddled thoughts with a knee-high gate propped in the entrance-way, the type used to corral small children and dogs.

Without it, his rambunctious rescue pit bull named Guinness would greet people with two salt-and-peppered paws on their chest. But the flimsy plastic barricade had a way of protecting 30-year-old Tommy as much as his visitors.

The line between friend and foe was razor thin for Tommy after a tour of duty in Fallujah, Iraq, in 2007 and 2008. The unexpected became permanently intolerable for the Salem, N.H., man.

"He would always have the gate up so no one could get past the kitchen," his mother, Ellen Hill, said. "If I had walked through and got to his room, I would have seen the depression right there. He wasn't brought up to live like that. It became clear that he was hiding something."

Barricaded doors and a general disinterest in self-care, both out of character for Tommy, were warning signs that something was not right. But his family didn't recognize them until it was too late.

On May 4 in his Hill Street home, Tommy took his own life as his symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder continued to tighten their already suffocating grasp on him.

Though Tommy sometimes had told loved ones he felt alone, statistics indicate that his situation was far from unique. Millions who return home from war zones are tormented and on edge like he was, experts say.

Flashbacks that make victims feel like they are reliving terrifying moments are just one symptom of PTSD, a condition of prolonged distress that results from severe trauma from experiences like combat duty, natural disasters, physical or sexual assault, and child abuse, experts say. Nightmares, hyper-vigilance, depression, insomnia, alcohol and substance abuse, and other self-destructive behavior are among myriad other hallmarks of the disorder.

According to the Department of Veterans' Affairs, 20 percent of men and women who served in Operations Iraqi Freedom or Enduring Freedom have PTSD in a given year. During the Gulf War, that number was 12 percent. And following the Vietnam War, an estimated 30 percent were affected by it.Many others who choose not to see professionals are said to experience symptoms without a formal diagnosis, meaning that the numbers are probably much higher.

Bill Gaudreau with theNew Hampshire Office of Veterans Servicessaid PTSD and mental healthcare are being discussed more than ever, but major strides have yet to be made toward finding a solution.

Tommy's father also named Thomas Dubois is a Vietnam veteran who enlisted as a combat engineer when he was 16 years old and understands the intensity of PTSD firsthand.

He spent his 18th birthday in southeast Asia, where he collected traumatic memories that he still can't forget at age 68.

"It was a mess assimilating back into society," he said. "It was just a mess. And it still is."

In the wake of their son's death, Tommy's parents are speaking out about the lack of required treatment for servicemen and women once they're home.They believe co-workers, friends and the general public can play a prominent role in noticing and addressing PTSD and that counseling should be mandatory.

"Don't let your kids hide things," Hill said. "The signs can be written everywhere, but they're hidden. Tommy hid it so well. Everyone can play a role in noticing the different forms it can take."

Tommy is gone, but PTSD continues to ravage the life of a close family friend who remains jailed after an arrest his parents say was fueled by symptoms of the disorder.

"A recruiter had no problem coming to our doors and making sure they enlisted," Hill said. "But where is everyone when these kids come home and can't function anymore? Life moves on without them."

'He never wanted to complain'

Hill only heard bits and pieces about her son's experience as a Marine. Like many, he was unwilling to open up to anyone, including family members or mental health professionals.

"Because it was something that he did willingly, and that he was honored to do, he never wanted to complain or vent about how it left him feeling," she said.

The boy who left for war right from Salem High in 2006 remains more prominent in her memory than the man who came home, simply because she knew him better, she said.

He loved to sing shocking classmates by scoring the second biggest role in a production of "Les Miserables" junior year and learned to play trumpet and guitar in the band. He was an innate learner, according to his family, always tinkering with ideas or strumming something new.

His most notable quality was his standout selflessness, his mother said.

"He didn't even tell us when exactly he was enlisting," Hill said. "He graduated and was gone that summer. It was something he had wanted since he was 14. He gave up his life here to protect and serve the nation. It meant everything to him."

Sept. 11, 2001 was the deciding factor, she said. A teenager at the time, Tommy was old enough to grasp the magnitude of the terrorist attacks in New York City. He was equal parts shaken and motivated to make sure history wasn't repeated.

During a small roadside ceremony in the days that followed, mother and son joined locals lighting candles for the lives lost. Tommy took a flag, waved it proudly, and displayed it on a nearby bridge.

"It was probably that day that he knew what he wanted to do," his dad said. "There's military on both sides of the family. But Tommy was the only one who wanted to be a Marine. He always had to be a little different."

Not so different, however, were the symptoms father and son experienced once they each honorably left the armed forces decades apart.

Gaudreau, who as thetemporary veterans service officerdeals directly with veterans daily, said everyone exiting the service is required to take a transition class. He took it himself when he first left the Navy 25 years ago.

Participants are taught to write a resume, and are educated on what state and federal benefits are available to them. Counseling is suggested.

"As part of that course, there aren't counselors to talk to about specifics of what you saw and how you're feeling," Gaudreau explained. "But they do talk about avenues through the Veteran's Administration and across the state that can help with that kind of thing."

After decades in the Navy, Gaudreau said he understands there's a stigma tacked on to asking for help.

"Some generations resent the VA, and others don't come forward because they think the need is greater for others," he said. "The pride level is huge. But it's important for everyone to know that they don't need to be alone in the fox hole. Reach out and seek help. There are people that care."

'His big thing was that he couldn't sleep'

Gaudreau said PTSD is as inconsistent as it is invisible.

"There is no real way to say, 'This is what it looks like'," he said. "There's no recipe, either, for who it's going to affect or how they'll react."

Major Katherine Murphy, with the Massachusetts National Guard, agreed, explaining that PTSD can manifest itself in varying, unpredictable forms.

"Reminders (of trauma) can include recurring dreams, feeling or acting like the traumatizing event is happening again, or experiencing physiological reactivity," she said. "That reaction to intense fear can include increases in heart rate, respiration, muscle tension, sweat gland activity or psychomotor agitation. Unfortunately, excessive alcohol use can be one method utilized by trauma survivors to try and numb some of those feelings."

That was the case for 25-year-old Craig Lawlor, a resident of Brighton, Massachusetts, according to his parents.

Lawlor was a 2010 Salem High graduate who, like Tommy, left home to serve his country soon after earning a high school diploma.

He grew up watching his father, Wayne, experience PTSD after years of service. Then, after two tours of duty in Bahrain and Iraq, Craig walked away with a good-conduct medal, and an exhausting emotional condition.

"His big thing was that he couldn't sleep," Wayne, a 57-year-old Marine vet, said of his son. "He made about 15 trips between Manchester and Jamaica Plain for treatment at different VA centers, but they never gave him anything, like the medication he wanted to just be able to sleep. They told him there were other options."

Craig's mother, Judy, said she watched her son return home, struggle, and turn to self-medication in the form of alcohol instead of the longer-term recovery. Instant relief is what he craved. And that's what led to his imprisonment, she said.

On Aug. 26, 2016, Lawlor was driving drunk when his pickup truck struck the right side barrier in the Sumner Tunnel in Boston at the Interstate 93/Government Center split. Hewas traveling at twice the speed limit and had a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit, according to court documents.

A passenger, his friend Dillon Cohen, 24, was pronounced dead at the scene. Another passenger andfriend, Stephen Day, 23, suffered a severe head and spinal cord injury, and remained in the hospital for several months.

Lawlor endured minor injuries, including a concussion and cuts. But now, as he awaits sentencing in Suffolk Superior Court, he faces a five- to 20-year sentence for manslaughter and an additional two-and-a-half to 15 years for a homicide charge.

His parents said he was offered his dream job as a police officer shortly before the deadly crash.

"They sacrifice when they leave, and they sacrifice for the rest of their lives," Wayne said. "They damage themselves for the rest of their lives. This one incident should not be what defines my son. Before this, he had never even had a parking ticket."

While the Lawlor family awaits Craig's sentencing, they find themselves talking about the unexpected trajectory of their lives with Hill and Thomas often, and how others can be spared.

"He was such a good kid," Hill recalls, tearfully. "He would sit with anyone who needed guidance and help them. If he were here now, he'd be saying, 'Mom, I know you can get through this.'"

To that, Thomas said, "It's like no other ache in the world and it's been happening for way too long."

FIND AVAILABLE RESOURCES

Col. James Sahady, spokesman for the Massachusetts National Guard, encourages service members to take advantage of the resources available to them.

"Awareness and education are a big part of prevention," he said. "It's important for all our members to know that there are resources in place that provide professional assistance. Our organization promotes awareness through programs, education and training."

To get started finding the help you or someone you know needs, contact:

* N.H. Veterans Services: 603-624-9230;

* Massachusetts Veterans Services:617-210-5480.

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'It's like no other ache in the world' - Eagle-Tribune