:
I call this meeting to order.
Welcome to meeting No. 58 of the Standing Committee on Veterans Affairs.
[English]
Pursuant to Standing Order 108(2) and the motion adopted on Monday, October 3, 2022, the committee is resuming its study on the experience of women veterans.
[Translation]
Today's meeting is taking place in a hybrid format pursuant to the House order of June 23, 2022. Members and witnesses are attending in person in the room and remotely using the Zoom application.
With respect to interpretation, I would like to remind you that you can select English, the floor or French.
I would also like to remind you that all comments should be made through the chair.
Furthermore, I would like to inform you that connection tests have been duly carried out.
Before welcoming the witnesses, I would like to issue a warning about the subject of this study. We'll be discussing mental health experiences. That could trigger trauma for people who have had similar experiences, whether those people are here today, viewers, committee members or their staff. If you feel upset or need help, please let the clerk know.
I'd now like to welcome the witnesses, and I want to—
:
We will now welcome our witnesses.
I will begin by thanking you for being with us today. Our meeting will last two hours. At the end of the first hour, we will take a five-minute break. If, however, you need me to interrupt the proceedings, please let me know.
[English]
On behalf of the members of the committee, I would also like to thank you for your service.
Our witnesses for today are, as individuals, Carly Arkell, retired major, and Lisa Nilsson, retired petty officer, second class, by video conference. We also have Nadine Schultz-Nielsen, retired leading seaman, and Louise Siew, retired captain.
[Translation]
We are also joined by Ms. Lisa Cyr, retired corporal and owner of the Café Félin Ma Langue Aux Chats.
You have five minutes for your opening remarks.
[English]
I will advise you when you have one minute left and when we have to go to someone else.
Let's start with Carly Arkell, retired major, for five minutes.
Please go ahead.
:
I want to start by first thanking the chair and the committee for giving me this opportunity to speak.
My name is Carly Arkell, as introduced, and I'm a retired major.
I need to apologize. I don't have a prepared statement in advance. I have a few challenges in writing using a computer, so I'll provide a little information this way.
Just to give a bit of background on who I am, I joined the Canadian Armed Forces, the naval reserve, at HMCS Tecumseh in Calgary when I was 17 and served with the naval reserve for two years prior to switching to the regular force, becoming an aerospace engineering officer and serving there for just over 20 years before being released in January of 2021.
To understand the experiences of a woman veteran, it's important to understand where we come from and how we got here. To give some context, because context is vital, throughout my career I had some health challenges, but nothing major: a sprained ankle here and a minor issue there. Unfortunately, in 2016 I had a sports injury while doing unit fitness training. We were doing burpees, and I slipped. Unfortunately, I had some injuries but I didn't realize the extent of them because I didn't present with typical symptoms, particularly stiffness.
In subsequent years, my health deteriorated, and because things didn't fit the standard typical template, I was dismissed and was told that it was all in my head, that I wasn't trying, that I was lazy, I was out of shape. I was not out of shape—I'm out of shape now. I don't know why things changed in how I was treated, but the change point happened in 2016, which was a year after I reported being sexually assaulted.
I had always been taken seriously prior to that, but after that, everything was blamed on my mental health. Admittedly, my mental health did deteriorate in those years following the sports injury, in large part because of the experience I had in dealing with the health care system in the military. That led to a lot of distrust of health care providers, and now, because of the complexity of my condition, I have a lot of difficulty accessing care because I'm told that I'm too complex.
To give some context with that, six months prior to my release, I was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder. I had no idea I had it and never would have known if I hadn't had an injury. I'm grateful that I had the opportunity to serve, because if we had known about it, I never would have been able to join. I was fine as long as I was fit and healthy and basically held together by my muscles.
The struggle I have now is that I can't access care. I have an amazing family doctor, and she's willing to take me on as a complex patient. However, I have a lot of issues, and because I don't have coverage from Veterans Affairs for a lot of things, it's expensive. Sometimes I can't even get accepted into clinics. I've been turned down numerous times and have been told that I am too complex.
As I mentioned, my mental health did deteriorate with that. While I was in the service, I was unknowingly diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and asked to be reassessed, and when I was, I was told that I had adjustment disorder, which I thought was a load of something, but there was nothing else I could do about it. Once I was released, my Veterans Affairs case manager referred me to the OSI clinic, where I was assessed and diagnosed with PTSD, dating back to 2008, halfway through my career. I held myself together quite literally with my muscles and held my mental health together by being excessively busy.
To wrap it up, this has impacted every aspect of my life. Many of you have noticed prior to the committee starting that I have a few friends here who have come to support me and the other witnesses. I require a lot of help. I don't get out of the house, not because I don't want to but because I struggle to. I have to adapt and overcome, because I have no other choice. I have two children, and they need me. I have the ability to get through the day or be a good mom or fight the system, and I can't do all of that at once.
Thank you.
:
Good afternoon, Chair and the committee, or should I say good evening? Time zones are wonderful, aren't they?
I really appreciate this opportunity and want to thank you for allowing me to speak today. I have to admit that this is the first time I've ever publicly spoken about the incidents that I endured and what my experiences in the CAF were like as a female and then, following that, my experiences with VAC.
I will admit that I am terrified sitting here, because my story is quite intense. Although I have been medically retired for three years this December, I'm still institutionalized to the point of extreme fear. I still have all the feelings associated with losing my reputation, having to rebuild it, having it destroyed again, and then having to rebuilt it—rinse, wash, and repeat.
How do I summarize a career of over 20 years in five minutes or around 800 words that is succinct, concise, hits all the points I wish to make and not sound like I'm just complaining? How do I convey to you the pain that I feel every day from an organization and a country that I have served since I was 17 years old?
How do I tell you what it was like to be repeatedly sexually assaulted, including having my virginity taken from me against my will, being abused and harassed, and withstanding misogyny, overt and covert sexism, gaslighting and more?
How can I convey what it feels like to have your MST, your military sexual trauma, weaponized against you, to be mistreated because of it and denied treatment, both medically and psychologically?
How do I tell you what it's like to be in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight for days, or in the Gulf of Oman, or off the coast of Panama, or even 12 nautical miles off the coast of Vancouver Island, and be told that if there was an “accident”, no one would hear my screams, or sailing with people who would grab my body, manipulate me, brainwash me and use me as a sex toy?
All of this is because I reported in 2001.
What can I tell you about how it feels to have women contact you 20 years later and say that they have severe trauma from the way that I was treated and that my name was used to scare and intimidate other women into not reporting?
I wish I could convey to you what it's like to be completely terrified of the people around you and only have 300 feet in which to sleep, to hide, to work, to socialize and to work out. I experienced what no woman or female or person should ever experience. The best recourse that I had was to shut up and take it, then be like a duck and let it roll off your back, go the gym, work out, meditate, do yoga, stretch, work hard, be alert and smile, but not too much; otherwise, people will think you are flirting. Just laugh it off. Be feminine, but not too much. Whatever you do, do not under any circumstances speak up or show any weakness or pain.
One could argue that the above statements are everywhere in every aspect of society, but it's just different in the CAF. It's very hard to articulate how it is different, but it just is different. Once again, it's different in the navy. I learned these lessons the hard way over around 15 years.
I've been hurt multiple times. Besides having a very healthy dose of dark humour, I have a cervical spine injury, which includes a titanium ball-and-socket joint at C6 and C7, which was disregarded as stress, and I have a cane. I have a lumbar spine injury that has resulted in three successive surgeries and left with two rods and eight screws. Both of these injuries were not taken seriously by the CAF medical system or the Vancouver Island Health Authority.
I did not get appropriate treatment on my cervical spine until I returned back to my unit, as I was posted in the United States at the time. Once again, my lumbar spine injury wasn't taken seriously until a chiropractor sent a note to the base hospital.
I sailed with these injuries, moving on a steel platform, traversing ladders and being threatened with being charged with malingering. I quote, “If you were that hurt, you wouldn't be sailing with us.” I had a severely herniated disc.
I'll tell you, that wasn't much fun. As of late, I've been referred back to my neurosurgeon, as I have impacts from an accident that I had in 2019. I also hurt my cervical spine again in April. I'm still awaiting imaging for that.
I have been told that I have the spine of a 90-year-old. I am just 40. The only thing that has saved my life is the fact that I was very fit and that I have a great deal of muscle, which has protected me and saved my life. I am able to walk because I have the muscle mass.
My MST reporting and what happened afterwards was completely weaponized against me. My physical injuries—including concussions, spinal injuries, knee injury and shoulder injuries—were all brushed off as a mental health condition and my being dramatic.
It has taken other medical professionals, specifically male professionals, standing up for me to get treatment. I can't even begin to describe what it was like while I was pregnant. At the time, we had to find a doctor on the economy because they didn't offer any postnatal or prenatal care.
When I hurt my neck and had emergency surgery on it, I didn't realize I was pregnant. I found that out about two months after my neck surgery. I was told there were significant issues with the fetus and the likelihood of having a full term baby was next to zero. I had to make a painful decision to agree to have a medical abortion at 22 weeks. I had to go to work the next day. I was unable to say anything. “Embrace the suck”, as we like to say.
Then I got pregnant with my son. In my third trimester, I was only supposed to be working half days, but I was still working 12-hour days. I guess that is a half day, in a way. I was denied maternity and parental leave because I was posted in the States, but I was afforded the opportunity to have six weeks of convalescent leave.
There was a saying as I was going through that if the military wanted you to have a family, they would have issued you one. I heard this all throughout my career.
I could very much continue, but I'm assuming I'm getting close to being over my time at this point.
I do need to touch on my experiences with Veterans Affairs. In my experience, they are an insurance company, pure and simple. We have to provide every little bit of documentation to prove that we are actually injured. That is a challenge in itself, due to the ongoing doctor shortages, especially where I am. I'm sure that it's endemic across the country. If there is no record that you sought medical treatment while in service, nine times out of 10, a claim will be denied. Therefore, the lengthy appeal process begins.
There's a stigma within the military. It means that if you're hurt, you don't say anything; you just soldier on and keep going.
In the veterans community, we have a joke that VAC operates under the premise of the three D's—deny, delay and die: Deny the claim, delay the appeal and hope the veteran dies or gives up fighting. This has been evident recently.
I personally have been denied VIP, the veterans independence program, three times, as I am not frail enough. I have been told that my husband and kids are more than capable of doing the housework or yardwork. I am 104% disabled, according to Veterans Affairs, and I cannot get help.
I have a complaint in with the Office of the Veterans Ombudsman—the OVO—for unfair treatment. That complaint has been in place for over 18 months, with zero resolution to date.
Additionally, there seem to be two different standards. There is one for officers and one for NCMs. I don't know how many times I have personally been told that rank has its privilege, element has its privilege, and the number and types of deployment have their privilege, and based on how it was explained to me by the OVO in regard to my VIP complaint, gender has a privilege as well. Additionally, not all case managers are treated or trained equally.
I would like to thank you again for allowing me to speak and for giving me my voice back.
I really wish I could expand a little bit more, but I have submitted another statement with what I've been through and how I was treated because I cannot succinctly or adequately summarize a career marked by so much trauma at the hands of my peers and by the system in the conduct of my duties.
I have a number of recommendations that can be implemented or at the very least looked into. I can discuss those in further detail when there is more time.
Thank you very kindly.
:
Over the last 10 years, I've deteriorated to the point where I struggle to do anything paperwork-related, including opening mail. Just confirming my appearance to speak here took two days and a migraine to fill one piece of paper to come here. My statement was also late to be translated.
I struggle with deadlines. I don't understand it; I used to be so reliable, but now my taxes are always done late and my bills are rarely paid on time. I've heard that there are supports out there for me, but I feel stuck and I don't know how to ask for help.
My children were born in 2011 and 2013. Every day of their lives has been affected by my mental health. First it was the rage that came with my PTSD that I was diagnosed with in 2014. Now it's the depression. I worry about my children a lot. Even though I'm home, I'm never there. I do my best, but I don't know how to explain it to them; my doctors can't even explain it to me.
In 2016 I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after another devastating denial by VAC. I haven't been the same. I have no fight left in me. I go through periods when I can't get out of bed for weeks. If I get my children to school on time, my daily goal has been reached.
In 2020, I finally got approved for VIP, but it's not enough. Just last week, I asked for a review of my VIP and my mental health. I received an approximate wait of four months for paperwork. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. It doesn't matter to me. I have supports in place, so I'll see what comes of it.
Chair, I'm here today because I don't want anyone else to feel the way I have felt. I can't understand why an organization that was supposed to take care of me and support me would cause me so much mental trauma. I've had to take breaks from VAC. I burn out, I deteriorate and I end up in crisis from what has felt like a constant stream of negative interactions.
Then after a few months or years, I try again because I understand that I can't do this on my own. VAC is an organization designed by men for men, but I know that there are those out there who are working to make it better. I know there's been a gender-based analysis report that's yet to be released, to my knowledge. Your committee proves to me that people see that there have been serious issues, and I'm hoping that there are more positive changes to come.
Thank you.
:
Mr. Chair and members of the committee, good evening. Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to come before you today.
My name is Louise Siew. I was a regular force logistics officer who joined the Canadian Forces in 1975, served 35 years and retired as a naval captain in 2010. I was also a married service spouse and mother. I have witnessed first-hand how generations of women have been treated in the Canadian Forces. I have chosen to testify today, as I know that important committees such as yours can be a catalyst for change.
I'd like to start my testimony by challenging the premise that the opening of all combat classifications and occupations to women in 1989 was the watershed moment for change for women in the Canadian Forces. It was not. It was the Royal Commission on the Status of Women in Canada in the early 1970s that made the most significant change for women when it opened up the opportunity for them to have a career in the Canadian Forces. Up until that point, the majority of women who enrolled in the Canadian Forces were unlikely to have a career. The average rank was private, and the average time in the military was 18 months. The technical trades and other well-paid trades were not open to them.
All that changed as a result of several key recommendations that flowed from the commission report. It recommended that women be allowed to stay in the military if they got married or had children. It recommended that many of the classifications and occupations previously closed to them be opened. This fundamentally broke down two key barriers to the success of women in the military. They could now have a career and they could now demonstrate their value to the military, as operational support trades and classifications were now open to them. They now had access to positions right across the CF, including in support of operations. It was then only a matter of time before other barriers started falling, as the value of their contributions became more widely recognized.
I would be remiss at this point if I did not note that the commission report also recommended that women be finally allowed to join the RCMP.
The next position that I'd like to dispel is the notion tabled by Lieutenant-General Bourgon to this committee that in relation to women in the CF, the policy had been one of assimilation, in contrast to the aspirational goal of inclusion that they are fostering today. Referring to what happened in the past as “assimilation” is concerning to me, in that it was not the reality that I observed. As someone who enrolled in 1975, I can state that overall the military, forced into this change in the 1970s, did so begrudgingly and with an unwillingness to accommodate women. They maintained this posture for as long as they possibly could. They proactively dismissed, mistreated, humiliated and even hurt us.
Both policy and culturally based barriers set conditions for abuse and harassment—physical, mental and sexual—and negated our voices. They both specified and implied that women could be discounted and abused without recourse, a climate that social scientists now describe as “otherism”. The CF needs to account for the conditions of service that women endured in the past and the resulting health and well-being effects. As well, VAC needs to recognize the impact of this history in their adjudication process for disability claims and in the availability of programs and services to meet the needs of all women veterans.
On a more personal note, I was the first woman in every position I held. I knew how important it was for those who would come after me for me to do well. My last command was of an organization of 5,000 people, which included the responsibility for all the supply and ammunition depots of the Canadian Forces and provided the strategic-level logistics support to the war in Afghanistan.
As well, during the years I served, I was not silent regarding the conditions of service for women. I consistently challenged the status quo and fought for better equipment for women and better opportunities in terms of service. As I saw the barriers to the progress of women, I challenged them. I volunteered to serve on merit boards. When I saw women being mistreated, I spoke up.
I successfully redressed the maternity leave policy. I wore my own version of a maternity uniform when the military offered me no uniform option. I maintained an informal network of hundreds of servicewomen from across the Canadian Forces to whom I would pass on information regarding ongoing issues such as equipment, uniform, maternity benefits, etc. I fended off sexual aggressions and suffered many rebukes for my activism, and I always felt like I was on my own in these fights.
You also need to know that serving women pick their battles. They cannot fight them all, as it is always weighed against the potential damage to their careers, as we've heard about today.
In closing, I believe the CF owes the women who served a full and open accounting for how they were treated in the past, literally generation by generation, up until the recent initiatives, so that their disability claims being submitted to VAC are better supported.
I also believe that VAC has been negligent in their support to women, and they need to significantly address their shortfalls, as I fundamentally believe the strides being made today by the CF for women today are not being matched by VAC.
I'm also concerned that you've heard little from the Canadian Forces to assure you that women in the reserves are receiving the same transition and mental health care, when needed, as their regular force counterparts.
Finally, women should not be fighting these battles alone. I implore you to support them and be the agent of change of this generation, which the Royal Commission on the Status of Women was in the early 1970s.
Thank you for your time. I look forward to responding to your questions.
I'd like to thank the committee for inviting me to appear today.
I joined the Canadian Armed Forces in 2007, when I was 31 years old. I had a bachelor's degree. I was offered entry into the forces as an officer, but I wanted to see what it was like to be a non-commissioned member first, before pursuing my dream of being an officer at some point. However, that's not how my career turned out.
I joined the forces to serve my country and serve overseas, with values of respect, honesty, and so on. I quickly found out that wasn't the case at all.
My career began with harassment, right off the bat. There was an incident with a colleague, during which the principles of honesty and respect were not followed. I was blamed. Because honesty and respect are important values to me, I ensured that this 18‑year-old young man was compensated by the forces after four years for a problem caused by a superior on a power trip. I won't go into greater detail, as it would take a very long time. Some time later, a master warrant officer came up to me, inches from my face, and said, “If you want your career to go well, you'd better stay away from Plamondon and his family.” I replied, “You taught me that once you're paired up with someone, it's forever.”
My career started like that in 2007, 2008 and 2009. I was still experiencing harassment. I was told that women had no place in the forces, that at 31, I was much too old, that I had no business being in the forces. They made that type of comment. It was psychological harassment, sexual harassment. I was told, “Keep your mouth shut or you'll get killed.” I've experienced it. During a drill, I was once told, “Do you want to be left behind in the field?” I was told that, given my career, I'd better take it really easy, better not speak up, otherwise it would be even worse, it would be the whole group. I think several women have made, or may make, similar statements. These are things I've experienced.
Psychological harassment is very strong. It doesn't matter how strong you are, if you take a few hits here and there, at some point you lose faith in your chain of command and institution. For me, the Canadian Armed Forces was the most glorious institution, and the one I should have trusted the most, because they're the ones who defend our country. On the other hand, when your country's own members destroy you, you don't know who you can trust anymore.
My chain of command destroyed me in every way. They went so far as to tell me it was all in my head. I was prevented from visiting my family. My doctor and psychologist were telling me to go see my family to clear my head. But when you're on sick leave, you can't go further than 50 kilometres away. My family is in New Brunswick, 300 kilometres away. I was asked to submit a request to be allowed to visit my family, but my chain of command refused, because there are mandated programs. These programs actually focus on harassment. There are all kinds of programs, but the forces don't abide by them. They exist and we do some every year, but a lot of people don't abide by them.
You get shut down because you're a corporal, because you're a woman, because you're old. You get pushed aside because you asserted yourself. In the forces, you mustn't assert yourself, especially if you're a woman. You get sidelined when it's time for missions. I've been told, “Cyr, you're doing really well here. He's just arrived, he doesn't know the job, so he's going on a mission. You're going to stay here and do background work.”
At one point, I received an email and I was happy, because I was about to leave on a mission. I still had a 13‑kilometre exercise to do. It's a major exercise, and very demanding. The day before, you're normally meant to be resting. Other soldiers can confirm this. However, the day before my exercise, my superior asked me to go and do topography, in the rain, until 11 o'clock at night. The 13‑kilometre exercise was at 6 a.m. the following morning. The next morning, I went for my 13‑kilometre exercise. With 200 metres to go—I could see the trenches—I crumpled and fainted. When I woke up, I was in hospital. The first thing I asked was whether I'd finished my 13 kilometres. They said they didn't know and that I'd been out for 45 minutes.
The Canadian Armed Forces don't talk about that. Those things are hidden. They cast doubt. What was said about me was that Corporal Cyr is a coward, she went 200 metres and stopped. Instead of explaining to members what's going on, they leave all kinds of things hanging in the air, which means they're always hassling people when they're injured or things happen.
I was in hospital for a week. Pardon the expression, but I peed blood for three days. Before I left, the hospital doctors gave me a medical note saying I had to spend two weeks at home, resting. Then I went to see the forces' medical services. That's another big shortcoming: the military system doesn't respect the civilian system. You have to fight all the time. When I went to the forces medical staff with my note, they said, “What, you want another vacation? You just spent a week in hospital.” I got into a big fight with the doctor and said, “You look at what's written here, look at all the instructions the doctor has just written about what I've just been through.” He told me he was going to give me the day off. I was back on Friday and the weekend was starting. I said, “That's fine, give me that. Monday morning, you won't be seeing me, believe me.”
We have to fight constantly. I'm speaking as a woman. I have male colleagues who also have to fight, but it always seems to be worse for women. A civilian doctor is a doctor. It seems to me that when a civilian doctor gives instructions, we shouldn't have to fight with military base doctors to follow them. The doctor should say that regulations must be followed.
The same holds true for harassment. If you try to raise it, you get harassed. You're told that you're a loser and you're just trying to get time off. No one explains to people what happened, so we get sent somewhere else. In my case, I was sent to another unit and told I was going to be promoted to a senior position, but I was lied to. That wasn't it at all. It was harassment, pure and simple.
I was doing some training on the base. I had a 20‑minute demarcation drill to do. One morning I was told, “This morning it took you 23 minutes, but the warrant officer and I did it in 20 minutes.” It was constant harassment. They were constantly nit-picking.
At one point, I was forced to fall to my knees and ask for help, because either I was going to kill the person or I was going to kill myself. I got to the point of writing a suicide note. Unlike others who had committed suicide, if I went through with it, I wanted the media to know why and find out about what was going on in this deeply flawed system.
Two years before I left the forces, so in 2017, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. I burst into tears. I told myself that I couldn't have this disorder, since I hadn't been on a mission. I was told that my war had been fought on the base. I couldn't accept this diagnosis. For two years, from 2017 to 2019, I didn't leave home. They were calling my house constantly for a year. As I previously said, they refused to let me visit my family. I was asked to fill out a request for authorization, but it was refused. To make sure I didn't visit my family, they called me at home morning and night. What does that do to a person? At some point, the brain gives up. I didn't even dare go out on my own turf anymore.
What saved my life was buying my restaurant and my cats. That's what continues to save my life every day. Even so, buying the restaurant got me in trouble with Veterans Affairs Canada. I saved my own life by having a business that allows me to get out of the house. I've created a safe haven, a refuge, a place to recuperate, to help me return to public places, but I've been forced to pay back an amount of money to the Manulife insurance company. Yet I'm not being paid by my job; I'm paying. This issue is still unresolved today, in 2023.
When we get out of the forces, Veterans Affairs tells us that everything is fine. Today, I dare to hope it's better, because things are done electronically. In my case, it was still paper forms in 2019.
In 2020, I was told I owed Manulife $27,000 or $37,000. I called Veterans Affairs to find out what was going on, and learned that between 2019 and 2020, I had not received 15% of my income from Veterans Affairs. No one at the minister's office bothered to call me to let me know. People suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder are not there. We're having trouble with the paperwork. I'm still struggling. I have a business, but I have people looking after my business. I'm here for my personal well-being. No one from Veterans Affairs called me to say there was a problem because I wasn't getting my money. I hope things like this will improve.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak. Thank you for making room for women.
:
I bought this café to save myself, first of all. Following my diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder, I also started having fibromyalgia. This coffee shop gets me moving.
I have 15 cats, named after my friends who died by suicide or died in Afghanistan. Every morning, if I'm not feeling very well, I look at my cats and think of my friends to whom I've paid tribute. I tell myself they're gone, but I'm still here. It allows me to take another step forward. It allows me to move forward.
This café also allows me to have a place for veterans, a safe space, a lighthouse. For me and for veterans, it's a place to rest. When I'm not well, my cats sense it. They come to see me, and they're often the ones named after my close colleagues. The aim of this café is to show people that my colleagues didn't die in vain, and that the mental health of veterans and military personnel is fragile. It's also to say that they need to be cared for, and that they shouldn't end up committing suicide. It must not come to that. That's my battle every day.
Your giving me a voice is important. It's important to me, it's important for women and it's important to all the military and all the veterans. It's priceless. I hope that the studies you're doing in committee will help change things in the future and that we won't have to fight anymore.
You know, I turned 47. Every day, I fight. I fight physically. I fight mentally. These women fight, and so do others.
When I walk into my restaurant, I have priceless strength. I know my colleagues are there. I know they're with me. It keeps me going, keeps me from staying home, because I know there is darkness if I stay home. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for this coffee shop.
Since April, we've been rescuing a veteran. We got a call that he was on the verge of suicide, on the side of the street. He's at my place now. Every morning, he gets up and comes with me to the restaurant. Two weeks after his arrival at my place, he wasn't the same man. The battle isn't won, but it's a source of pride to see that we've led him in the right direction. If we manage to save a veteran, that's one more battle we win.
That's what I'm trying to do. We're no better than anyone else, but so much the better if we can be a role model for veterans. That's what it takes. It also takes people like you to back us, to support us and to be behind us.
:
Thank you for the opportunity to speak about this.
It was clear that the injuries were related to service, and I have awards for a couple of specific joints. However, as an overall whole person, when I applied for the specific condition called Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, despite there clearly being information in my medical records, the Veterans Affairs medical officer who reviewed the file....
I actually have a copy of it, because I'm appealing it. The BPA provided me with that to provide my civilian doctor.
The Veterans Affairs medical officer zoomed in on the medically unexplained symptoms, so he pulled out evidence of the mental health department saying that it was all in my head. A couple of physicians said, “Yes, you're flexible, but that's normal. That's nothing. You're just stressed and you need to get more sleep in order to manage your stress.”
I'm in the process of appealing it, but because there are no guarantees it's going to be successful, my case manager advised me to apply for each individually affected joint. I currently have an award for my left shoulder, my lower back and bilateral hips.
Once I was denied the overall condition, I submitted additional applications for my neck, my right shoulder, bilateral wrists, bilateral thumbs and bilateral ankles, and I was immediately sent a medical form for each individual joint. I have to have a medical appointment with my family physician for each individual one. I am extremely fortunate to have a family physician, and I am extremely fortunate that she's willing to spend the time on that, but that takes away from treating my other conditions. That takes time in her schedule away from other patients, and it's ridiculous. My physiotherapist is doing the measurements for the range of motion and could easily fill out the forms, but it has to be a medical officer.
I can't fill out the forms on my own. I need help to do that and then I need help processing that. All my energy is going towards that, so I can't apply for other conditions.
I have gastrointestinal issues. I have issues with my autonomic nervous system. As a result of all of this other stuff, I have a condition that resembles long COVID. I had it before COVID happened, and it's debilitating.
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Thank you. I'd love to.
We were a group of women who were frustrated. It was just under two years ago, when there was a lot of news and scandal about sexual misconduct in the military affecting those in senior ranks. We knew it didn't have to be this way. We knew there was more that could be done. We talk about weapons of war. It's fratricide. It infects and affects everyone. It makes the environment toxic.
I joined in 1998. I was SHARP-trained three times between my two different elements. I guess I needed the extra times. I just learned jokes. It was a joke. It didn't go anywhere.
One of our founders, Donna, developed a training program while working with another one in civilian sexual assault.
I'm sorry. I'm getting a little flustered here.
Mrs. Cathay Wagantall: That's okay. Take your time. It's fine.
Ms. Carly Arkell: She adapted the training, with their assistance and permission, for a uniform environment. It respects that we are soldiers. We are using violence as our tool, but we're still people. We need to take care of our people. The training focuses on not belittling anyone and not making people feel bad, or as if they have to be on edge or they can't be themselves. It's about humanity.
We've had people go into the training and be combative about being there, and then come out saying, “It's the first time I haven't felt like I'm the bad guy.” We've had other people who were like, “Wow, I didn't realize I was contributing to the problem. I didn't think that.” The impact has been profound.
My involvement has been very limited due to my health, but all of us founders and many other survivors in the background working together are contributing where we can and how we can. It's part of healing for us. We want to make it a better place for our colleagues and for our children.