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PEMBROKE, Ont. — Every morning, Mike Trauner wakes up to war.
Like clockwork, the former Canadian Forces soldier returns to that cold morning in December 2008, when an improvised explosive device detonated beneath him in Afghanistan.
“I try not to think about it, but every single day, I’m reminded of it,” the 37-year-old says.
“I can’t forget, because when I wake up in the morning, my legs are still gone, my arms and hands are still damaged. I’m still in a wheelchair; I still have prosthetics. I can never forget about it. From now until the day I die, I’ll always be reminded of the war. It doesn’t just go away.
“It’s not like I was a little kid and I broke my arm and it healed and it’s a funny story now. It’s not like that at all.”
Canada officially ended its 12-year military mission to Afghanistan in March 2014.
But for those veterans whose bodies and minds were irrevocably damaged, the price of that conflict continues to paid: The struggle to come to terms with their new normal is fought each and every day.
Theirs is a battle of a thousand humiliations. Trauner relies on his wife, Leah, to put toothpaste on his brush. He needs help with zippers and buttons. She cuts his vegetables. Often, he can’t fall asleep: The pain in his residual limbs never leaves.
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He faces these maddening skirmishes alone or with Leah. There have been times when he’s raged at his fate, others when he’s felt abandoned and “dead to the world.”
Yet no matter his mood, Trauner has raised himself from his bed and soldiered on with his day. His is a private war marked by quiet victories.
“You have to get out of bed: You have to get your coffee and breakfast and get your day started. You have to carry on with your life.”
Says Leah: “He’ll try anything once, and if he fails, he’ll try it again. He doesn’t quit.”
A decorated combat soldier, Trauner left the Canadian Forces in May after almost two decades as a paratrooper, section commander and support worker. The latter job was the one he held after returning from his war wounds.
Some of the service medals and awards that retired soldier Mike Trauner.
Credit: Darren Brown
Trauner never felt comfortable behind a desk: He missed the relentless physical challenges of active service, its rough-hewn camaraderie and common purpose. He even missed the 6 a.m. fitness runs and the mid-winter bivouacs.
“It was very depressing seeing all of my friends, people I’ve worked with, they’re progressing, getting promoted, and moving on with their lives,” he says. “And I’m just like a ghost: in the corner, not progressing, not gaining anything.”
Last year, contemplating life as a severely disabled civilian, Trauner went in search of a new mission.
He found the Invictus Games.
Founded by Prince Harry, the three-year-old Invictus Games are an international athletic competition for ill and injured soldiers.
Trauner met some of the athletes last year. At the time, he wasn’t ready to compete since he was recovering from complex surgery to repair the stump below his right knee. (Doctors took the radial artery from his right arm and attached it to the femoral artery in his leg, along with a flap of skin and nerves, to repair badly damaged skin grafts.)
Although consigned to his wheelchair for more than a year, Trauner agreed to take part in the September 2017 Invictus Games in Toronto.
The competition appealed to him — “I hate to lose,” he says — as did the idea of spending time with other injured soldiers. Trauner also knew from experience that the structured regimen of training would be good for his psyche: He would have concrete goals; he could measure his progress; he would be outside.
“This is where the Invictus Games helps a lot,” he says. “Now I’m gaining, I’m improving, I have a focus.”
He trains six days a week, as long as four hours a day, in preparation for his rowing and cycling competitions.
Retired soldier Mike Trauner, who lost parts of both legs in Afghanistan, is shown training at his home in Pembroke.
The activity has fed both his confidence and ambition. Trauner is now talking about competing in the Paralympic Games, and possibly trying his hand at politics.
This fall, too, he’s finally arranged to start treatment for post-traumatic stress — something he had put on hold while adjusting to his disability.
“I’d like to be able to sleep a lot better,” he says.
A Canadian flag snaps in the wind over the lawn of Trauner’s custom-built home near the Ottawa River. “It reminds me of what I fought for,” he says.
People sometimes ask him if his sacrifice was worthwhile given that Taliban fighters still battle U.S.-backed forces in Afghanistan. He doesn’t engage in the discussion. “I don’t think about politics,” he says. “I was a soldier: I was responsible for my men on the ground and my mission for the day. That’s it.”
Master Cpl. Michael Trauner is presented with the Star of Military Valour by then governor general Michaelle Jean during a ceremony at Rideau Hall in Ottawa June 4, 2010.
The remotely triggered IED that nearly killed him was made from an artillery shell stacked on top of a mortar bomb. It severed three major arteries, obliterated his legs and sent shrapnel tearing into his left forearm and hand.
In its aftermath, Trauner has endured 18 surgeries, including an 11-hour operation to rescue his shattered hand, which was torn in half.
His weeks are still filled with medical appointments. He has occupational therapy to improve his fine motor skills, and massage therapy to break up scar tissue, along with regular botox injections — as many as 200 at a time — to treat the sensitive skin beneath his prosthetic legs.
“I hate that: I hate needles,” he says.
Every part of his day has to be planned — and each day’s plan depends on whether his skin is healthy enough to bear his prosthetics. Otherwise, he uses a wheelchair.
Trauner’s private war has changed him.
“It’s made me a better person in the long run,” he says. “My emotional range is much greater than it ever was. I’m more tolerant, more experienced … I’ve had to learn to adapt and overcome.”
Mike Trauner, in training, something he does for as long as four hours a day.
查看原文...
Like clockwork, the former Canadian Forces soldier returns to that cold morning in December 2008, when an improvised explosive device detonated beneath him in Afghanistan.
“I try not to think about it, but every single day, I’m reminded of it,” the 37-year-old says.
“I can’t forget, because when I wake up in the morning, my legs are still gone, my arms and hands are still damaged. I’m still in a wheelchair; I still have prosthetics. I can never forget about it. From now until the day I die, I’ll always be reminded of the war. It doesn’t just go away.
“It’s not like I was a little kid and I broke my arm and it healed and it’s a funny story now. It’s not like that at all.”
Canada officially ended its 12-year military mission to Afghanistan in March 2014.
But for those veterans whose bodies and minds were irrevocably damaged, the price of that conflict continues to paid: The struggle to come to terms with their new normal is fought each and every day.
Theirs is a battle of a thousand humiliations. Trauner relies on his wife, Leah, to put toothpaste on his brush. He needs help with zippers and buttons. She cuts his vegetables. Often, he can’t fall asleep: The pain in his residual limbs never leaves.
Related
He faces these maddening skirmishes alone or with Leah. There have been times when he’s raged at his fate, others when he’s felt abandoned and “dead to the world.”
Yet no matter his mood, Trauner has raised himself from his bed and soldiered on with his day. His is a private war marked by quiet victories.
“You have to get out of bed: You have to get your coffee and breakfast and get your day started. You have to carry on with your life.”
Says Leah: “He’ll try anything once, and if he fails, he’ll try it again. He doesn’t quit.”
A decorated combat soldier, Trauner left the Canadian Forces in May after almost two decades as a paratrooper, section commander and support worker. The latter job was the one he held after returning from his war wounds.
Some of the service medals and awards that retired soldier Mike Trauner.
Credit: Darren Brown
Trauner never felt comfortable behind a desk: He missed the relentless physical challenges of active service, its rough-hewn camaraderie and common purpose. He even missed the 6 a.m. fitness runs and the mid-winter bivouacs.
“It was very depressing seeing all of my friends, people I’ve worked with, they’re progressing, getting promoted, and moving on with their lives,” he says. “And I’m just like a ghost: in the corner, not progressing, not gaining anything.”
Last year, contemplating life as a severely disabled civilian, Trauner went in search of a new mission.
He found the Invictus Games.
•
Founded by Prince Harry, the three-year-old Invictus Games are an international athletic competition for ill and injured soldiers.
Trauner met some of the athletes last year. At the time, he wasn’t ready to compete since he was recovering from complex surgery to repair the stump below his right knee. (Doctors took the radial artery from his right arm and attached it to the femoral artery in his leg, along with a flap of skin and nerves, to repair badly damaged skin grafts.)
Although consigned to his wheelchair for more than a year, Trauner agreed to take part in the September 2017 Invictus Games in Toronto.
The competition appealed to him — “I hate to lose,” he says — as did the idea of spending time with other injured soldiers. Trauner also knew from experience that the structured regimen of training would be good for his psyche: He would have concrete goals; he could measure his progress; he would be outside.
“This is where the Invictus Games helps a lot,” he says. “Now I’m gaining, I’m improving, I have a focus.”
He trains six days a week, as long as four hours a day, in preparation for his rowing and cycling competitions.
Retired soldier Mike Trauner, who lost parts of both legs in Afghanistan, is shown training at his home in Pembroke.
The activity has fed both his confidence and ambition. Trauner is now talking about competing in the Paralympic Games, and possibly trying his hand at politics.
This fall, too, he’s finally arranged to start treatment for post-traumatic stress — something he had put on hold while adjusting to his disability.
“I’d like to be able to sleep a lot better,” he says.
•
A Canadian flag snaps in the wind over the lawn of Trauner’s custom-built home near the Ottawa River. “It reminds me of what I fought for,” he says.
People sometimes ask him if his sacrifice was worthwhile given that Taliban fighters still battle U.S.-backed forces in Afghanistan. He doesn’t engage in the discussion. “I don’t think about politics,” he says. “I was a soldier: I was responsible for my men on the ground and my mission for the day. That’s it.”
Master Cpl. Michael Trauner is presented with the Star of Military Valour by then governor general Michaelle Jean during a ceremony at Rideau Hall in Ottawa June 4, 2010.
The remotely triggered IED that nearly killed him was made from an artillery shell stacked on top of a mortar bomb. It severed three major arteries, obliterated his legs and sent shrapnel tearing into his left forearm and hand.
In its aftermath, Trauner has endured 18 surgeries, including an 11-hour operation to rescue his shattered hand, which was torn in half.
His weeks are still filled with medical appointments. He has occupational therapy to improve his fine motor skills, and massage therapy to break up scar tissue, along with regular botox injections — as many as 200 at a time — to treat the sensitive skin beneath his prosthetic legs.
“I hate that: I hate needles,” he says.
Every part of his day has to be planned — and each day’s plan depends on whether his skin is healthy enough to bear his prosthetics. Otherwise, he uses a wheelchair.
Trauner’s private war has changed him.
“It’s made me a better person in the long run,” he says. “My emotional range is much greater than it ever was. I’m more tolerant, more experienced … I’ve had to learn to adapt and overcome.”
Mike Trauner, in training, something he does for as long as four hours a day.
查看原文...
