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RETIRED ARMY MAJOR SAYS VA PROBLEMS ARE NOTHING

NEW -- His copy machine has been his greatest weapon

against a bureaucracy that denied his disabilities

time and again. Now, he is dying.
 

 

 

Story here... http://www.greeleytrib.com/
article/20070422/NEWS/104210162

Story below:

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The Long War: Retired Army major says VA problems are nothing new

Meghan Murphy

Ret. Major G. Phil Shovar is a pack rat. His Greeley home is littered with trinkets, collectibles and magazines he intends to read. Amidst the chaos is an old Army helmet, a picturesque painting of the Navy ship he served on, and almost 1,000 pages of documents on his veteran benefits.

Shovar spent 24 years as a soldier. As a nurse In Vietnam, he triaged dying soldiers during the horrific Tet offensive. But his longest battle has been with the Veterans Benefits Administration and the U.S. Army. For almost three decades, his copy machine has been his greatest weapon against a bureaucracy that denied his disabilities time and again.

Now Shovar is dying. He has stage three terminal cancer, acknowledged finally by the Veterans Administration in December as a permanent, service-connected disability. War also left him with diabetes, hearing loss, hypertension and post traumatic stress disorder. Yet it took him almost 30 years to force the government to admit these facts and pay for them.

Shovar's plight doesn't seem to be unique. An elected U.S. representative, Veterans Health Administration doctors and nurses, and a veterans service officer have all heard the tale before. The Veterans Benefit Administration takes months or years to respond to a claim. By the government's own count, the average wait is six months.

Some claims are denied or the disability percentage is lower than expected. Then the appeals process begins. That can take even longer.

Today, aging Vietnam and Korea veterans are dying before their claims are complete. Iraq veterans are returning to face the same battle as those who fought before them.

That's why Shovar wants to tell his story, a tale of perseverance and encouragement. So that soldiers fight for what they deserve and don't allow themselves to be marginalized, as he almost did.

* * *

Phil Shovar grew up in the military. His father was a colonel in the Army and the family lived in Ohio, Kentucky, Germany and Austria. When he was 16 years old, Shovar left home to live with his uncle, a Navy captain, who he credits with instilling him with values of integrity and honor.

Shovar always wanted to be a Navy man like his uncle. In 1958, it was his uncle who gave him his oath. That, Shovar said, was the proudest day of his life.

Two days after high school graduation he was on a plane to fulfill his active duty call, at the bottom of the Navy ranks cleaning toilets on a ship. Shovar was given deck jobs because the officers thought he was a troublemaker. But there he learned to work, to be a man.

But it wasn't until 1961 that Shovar found his true calling: medicine. After returning from active duty, he worked in the emergency room of University Hospital in Gainesville, Fla. Although he was an orderly, he'd often watch surgeries. He was fascinated by the anesthesiologist, who held a patient one hair's breadth between life and death. In 1963, he entered the St. Francis School of Nursing while still in the Naval Reserve. After graduation he was commissioned a second lieutenant Army Nurse Corps.

In 1968, Shovar was sent to Vietnam. He was stationed at the Third Field Hospital in Saigon in 1968. Nearby, the bloody Tet Offensive was under way. As a triage officer, Shovar's role was to sort through hundreds of casualties, arriving by the truckload and tag the soldiers.

Those who were still alive were assessed based on their needs. If their injuries would take up too many resources, they weren't treated. It was his job to decide whether hundreds of men lived or died.

The conditions in the hospital were horrific. Blood and body parts were everywhere, along with hundreds of dead soldiers. Keeping sanitized was almost impossible. The nurses only had one pair of surgical gloves per patient. To keep their hands clean and their brows dry, they wiped their heads with their forearms, which were covered in the Agent Orange sprayed everywhere in Saigon.

Shovar served one tour of duty with distinction. He left Vietnam a captain. But he also left with disabilities that would haunt him the rest of his life.

* * *

When Shovar returned to the United States, he trained as an anesthetist and worked in Army hospitals. He also began to suffer from severe depression and sought therapy. His officers knew of his condition, but he didn't want an official diagnosis, because he believed mental illness would ruin his military career.

But in 1978 Shovar's career ended for a different reason. He was passed over for promotion, despite his excellent reviews from supervisors, so he resigned from active duty.

Shovar doesn't remember quitting; he was taking large doses of antidepressants. There was no medical examination performed. If there had been, Shovar believes he would have been medically retired as a captain with full benefits. Instead, he launched into a 30-year battle for his rights.

Shovar filed for benefits immediately after retiring from the Army. His first claim for disability was denied on all counts: PTSD, a spine injury, hearing loss and hypertension. A medical reviewer diagnosed him with a non-service connected personality disorder.

That's when the fight began. He accessed his report, collected his medical records and filed an immediate complaint threatening legal action. Within six months, his initial ruling was overturned and he was awarded 30 percent disability for PTSD.

But 30 percent provided him little money, and in 1982 Shovar began suffering flashbacks. His attacks became so bad he was forced to quit his well-paying job as an anesthetist at Washington Center Hospital Center. When he applied for increased benefits, he was denied again. When he asked the Army to pay for his schooling, they wouldn't accredit the prestigious psychology program at Antioch University in Denver.

Again Shovar fought. With records and words. And again he won.

After earning his master's in psychology, Shovar began working at the Post Trauma Treatment Center in Aurora, where he was also a patient. He wanted to use his knowledge to help others. Consequently, it also exacerbated his own symptoms. Shovar entered the Army reserves soon after leaving active duty and would attend meetings in uniform. Each time he returned home, he'd rip the buttons from his coat in distress.

In 1985, Shovar's therapist told him he could no longer serve in the reserves. He immediately filed for full disability and again was denied. The first man who assessed him wouldn't even look at his medical records; he also prohibited Shovar from taping their interview. Shovar's claim was denied.

Shovar filed a complaint against the man with the Army office of the inspector general. About two months later he was sent to another reviewer. He came with his tape recorder in hand, but it wasn't needed. The doctor recognized that he could no longer work in the reserves and his retirement was granted, but with no benefits.

Shovar's final fight was the longest, but also the most valuable. In 2000 he applied for his 60-year retirement as a full major. He was denied.

Every year for the next five, he filed with the board of appeals. After his fifth filing, a woman in the records department looked through his records. She discovered that he had 20 years in active duty. Although he was a short of the eight required in reserves, Shovar's exception was granted for compassionate reasons. After all he was medically unable to serve his final years in the reserves.

"This is what it takes, is help from people who give a damn, who are willing to go out of their way," Shovar said.

* * *

During his fight for benefits, Shovar received help from two veterans service officers. The first, in Denver, gave him sound advice. She told him to write no more letters, make no more calls, do nothing that wasn't through her. Too many veterans lose their battles because they're seen as crusaders.

Karen Townsend, the Boulder County veterans service officer, sees those veterans regularly. For 25 years, she's seen veterans denied and then win on appeal. She worked with Shovar and is used to the long process. "The VA is notorious for being backlogged," Townsend said. "In their defense, they never have enough people to process the claims."

Townsend also said she sees her veterans through a lot of appeals, and that process takes even longer than the initial application. In the last two weeks of March, two of her veterans died before their claims were processed.

The caseload for the Veterans Benefits Administration isn't getting any lighter. Townsend is seeing more soldiers return from wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and an upsurge in the Vietnam vets applying for benefits. Some are aging and turning to the VA for help, others are suffering resurgence of post-traumatic stress disorder because of the current war.

"Those that have never filed are filing; those that have a rating are going for increases," Townsend said.

In March, Daniel Cooper, undersecretary for VA benefits, testified before Congress about the challenges the department faces. Last year, the administration processed more than 774,000 disability claims; answered 6.6 million phone calls; debriefed 390,000 service people; and offered nearly 65,000 hours of outreach.

Since 2000, the number of claims has steadily increased and there's no ebb in sight. So the VBA added 580 employees last year and is hiring 400 more this year. But, it takes about two to three years for an employee to become fully productive.

Even U.S. Rep. Marilyn Musgrave, who represents the 4th District in north and eastern Colorado, hears from her constituents about the wait. Musgrave and her Sterling constituent advocate Deb Carlstrom spoke with Cheyenne Medical Center officials on April 12. "Veterans are very happy with their health care, it's the paperwork ... when we get them they're so frustrated," Musgrave said.

* * *

Although many of Shovar's battles came at times when he was ready to give up on life itself, he never let frustration get in the way of his rights.

On Dec. 6, 2006, Shovar received the letter he'd long sought from the VA, granting him 100 percent, permanent, service connected disability.

He didn't have to fight for that designation. The Veterans Benefits Administration recognizes that anyone with boots on the ground in Vietnam was exposed to Agent Orange. Cancer, diabetes and leukemia are generally automatically service connected.

Even though his last battle was easy, Shovar has little confidence that the VA will change. He had to fight for too long, and he fears that young soldiers returning from war will be discouraged. He hopes they will learn the lessons he did: to set up a filing system, buy a copy machine, keep all of your original documents and send everything by certified, return receipt mail.

And most importantly, never give up the good fight.

I sit here with a gun in my lap

An excerpt, by Major G. Phil Shovar

"I sit here with a gun in my lap. I don't want to be here, and yet, there is an overwhelming feeling that to end the pain is to dream no more. I know that there will be those left behind. Do I put them through the nightmares I have lived? I was trained to save lives, reduce pain, to care for others, and yet I cannot care for myself. I sit here with a gun in my lap."

Flash back, it is real

An excerpt, by Major G. Phil Shovar

"Flashback is an overlay, a transparency of past experience, the smells, sounds and visual stimulants of shattering denied experience. Most real and unforgettable are the smells, blood, urine, violence fear and death, stirred into a cauldron and splashed across my awareness."

To see an audio slideshow on Ret. Major G. Phil Shovar, visit the media center at www.greeleytribune.com.

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Larry Scott  --