Funniest anger moment....dunno. One funny anger moment...the VA's take on female veterans with PTSD, then and now. Picture this:
For years I've tried to get permission to go to a Vet Center for therapy. I was originally told I couldn't because I did not have an official diagnosis of PTSD. After I was service connected, I was told that only male vets with PTSD could be seen (later they changed that to "combat vets with PSTD" -- ie combat zone/combat MOS). As for the VA, first, whenever I showed up (for anything) someone inevitably asked me where my husband/brother/son is or which of those "your veteran" is (eventually I started replying "I'M THE VETERAN!" and threatening to get myself a cap with that on it) , and second, they either told me I wasn't eligible or had nothing wrong with me.
Things have changed.
The Vet Centers now say if I was raped they can see me, for MST --but still NOT for the PTSD.
And there I am one day, at the new VA clinic, already furious because --having no idea it was set up like this-- I walked into a blank room full to overflowing with people and with no front desk or reception area in sight...then finally found the desk BEHIND a partial wall after I walked all the way to the end of the blind room, and stood there with my back half to everyone for an inordinate time waiting for the person behind the window to pay attention...and finally got checked in...and waited for my doctor to catch up to appointment times standing between the two restroom doors (the only clear wall space) trying to watch everything and everyone at once as I was already freaked out AND half the people were clearly not veterans...and when I finally saw the PCP was told my blood pressure was seriously high (gee, DUH!) and I had to go on meds for it right now with no screening tests. Bad enough? No. Later I have the social worker and another woman (I have no idea who she was) asking me about my high stress reaction -- "Is it having to be around all the...men?"
"No," I said sweetly, "it's having an invisible reception area to check in at, an appointment time that's indefinately later than scheduled, and a crowded room with no decent area to keep my back safe from the nonveterans because no one will walk to the entry door and call my name out so I can't wait out there." Then I walked outside to my motorcycle, got on it, rode the hour home, parked the bike...and yelled blue blazes while kicking the crap out of everything except it. "I don't care if they're men, women, or GD blue meanies! When will you people stop trying to shove my ass in with everyone who's been raped!"
Then I noticed my neighbor standing there with this stupified expression...