Healing by Writing with Dog

John DiRaimo is working on a book about his war experiences in Iraq and about his resulting posttraumatic stress disorder.

“I used to sleep with a gun. I got rid of the gun. I used to keep a knife at the side of the bed — I don’t do that anymore.” He is able to get out of his house more often and doesn’t always barricade the door at night.

Therapy, medication and the support of friends including Susan Storti, a behavioral health researcher and counselor, have helped. So has his service dog Park, a yellow Labrador who has lived with him since he obtained the animal from Princeton, Mass., based NEADS almost a year ago. NEADS provides dogs to a variety of needy people, not just combat veterans.

“If I’m depressed, he comes up to me and just gives care and love, and I give the same back,” DiRaimo says. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. He goes everywhere with me. He wakes me up from nightmares, which no one believes because they’re not trained for that. But he senses all my senses and he’s unbelievable.”

“I Wanna Go Home” is the tentative title of his book.

“I want to come home but I just can’t get the war out of my head,” he says. “Even though I’m home and I’m safe — there’s no more shootings or anything like that — part of me is still there.”

It was a hot and windy morning with the wind whipping sand that burned your face like sand paper. We were assigned a task to build the berm to the north of the camp to prevent the enemy from attacking us…

While standing there, I lit a cigarette and felt something touch my right foot. I looked down. It appeared to be a bone. I picked it up and noticed it was almost snapped in two. I thought it was a rib bone that you eat… For some reason, I started kicking the sand around and found more bones and little teeth and a jaw bone.

Late in the evening, I was told all the bones were put together and it was a little girl. All I thought about was what she went through — and then I remembered my own daughter. I wanted to cry so bad but I couldn’t, ’cause sergeants don’t cry.
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