Thursday, July 16, 2020

Agent Orange Ambush


Standing along a roadside with dead shrubbery poisoned by defoliants in Vietnam. (Hon Tre Island, 1970)





















When I came home from the life-altering appointment everything looked different. The view out onto the grassy courtyard, the living room, the book cases and the ceramic urn that holds the ashes of Tiger and Snookie—it all seemed more vivid; still in focus but with more texture. Perhaps others who’ve received traumatic news have experienced these curious hallucinations.

When my wife came home from work a few hours later we sat on the sofa together and I told her I had news that would drastically change our future. I couldn’t get it out without breaking down. We held hands as I whispered these words: “I’ve been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

In reality, I had already figured it out for myself and was prepared for the preliminary assessment from my neurologist at Veterans Hospital. A year and a half earlier I had self-diagnosed myself with the wrong disease, Multiple Sclerosis, which resulted in a cascade of tests that would disprove MS, but provided no alternate conclusion.

Waiting for a brain scan at the VA.
Another brain image (DaTscan) was ordered, and a consultation with a movement disorders specialist. The scan revealed a telltale display in the region of the brain where the chemical Dopamine is produced. The analysis pointed to Parkinson’s, or, a Parkinsonian-like disorder, some of which are worse than Parkinson’s. I was actually relieved when my diagnosis was the standard variety of Parkinson’s Disease, PD for short.  

When presented with my newest symptom a few months earlier—a minor tremor in one hand—the first thing my neurologist asked was if I had been exposed to Agent Orange. I gulped, before answering, “Yes.”

The defoliant was widely used in South Vietnam to destroy vegetation which provided enemy soldiers with hiding places. My neurologist advised me that she sees a couple guys like me every week; Vietnam War vets who are around 70 years old.

Nearly 50 years after the war, there is an unreported wave of Parkinson’s patients who are entering the VA system. It has been deemed a “presumptive disease” caused by Agent Orange, along with multiple cancers and a variety of other conditions. Before it has run its course, Agent Orange may end up being the most deadly weapon in the war—and exclusively deployed by our own forces.

Hundreds of PD patients are receiving care at each of Iowa’s VA hospitals, in Des Moines and Iowa City. A new palliative/hospice care facility is being prepared in Des Moines and multiple programs are available to keep these veterans independent for as long as possible. Imagine what the nationwide scope must be.

Island defenses: barbed wire, perimeter lights and Agent Orange.

My exposure to herbicides occurred on a remote South Vietnamese island off the coast of Nha Trang, where I worked as a TV newscaster. The American Forces Vietnam Network (AFVN) had a broadcasting station on the island of Hon Tre, or, Bamboo Island. Defoliant chemicals had been applied along the winding road up to our facility so the Viet Cong could not easily ambush U.S. vehicles. I even have a picture of me standing along that very barren roadside 50 years ago.

We were aware that defoliants were deployed, but didn’t consider it a danger. Rather, it was for our own benefit. Agent Orange and other defoliants efficiently killed underbrush that could otherwise conceal the enemy. After lunch one day some of us left the mess hall and noticed a chemical smell. I had no reason to doubt it when someone suggested it was Agent Orange.

Sgt. Bob Wilford, Agent Orange casualty.
AFVN’s small detachment on Hon Tre provided television and FM radio to large American military installations at Nha Trang and Cam Ranh Bay. I am not the only broadcaster who worked there and now has Parkinson’s. Fellow Iowan Bob Wilford and I were on the island together in 1970. We were both Marines and are now both PD patients. There are other AFVN veterans living with Parkinson’s, including another colleague who spent time in Nha Trang.

I never fathomed becoming a disabled veteran. Sure, there were close calls from indiscriminate terrorism and rockets that plagued Saigon, where I spent the bulk of my one year tour, but I hadn’t been personally targeted. While I was lucky when it came to enemy attacks, everyone who was in-country remains vulnerable to the unintended consequences of Agent Orange.

Early on, I had developed skepticism of all the health maladies blamed on defoliants. My doubts were formed as a journalist covering the issue from Bangkok, Thailand as bureau chief for CBS News.

In 1994 I spent a week in Vietnam researching the postwar impact of Agent Orange for 60 Minutes. I was to identify places, victims and interviews for a magazine segment. Veteran war reporter Ed Bradley was the designated correspondent. 

A key photo op was to be the return of Elmo Zumwalt, the retired U.S. admiral who ordered the use of herbicides. His son died of cancer which may have been caused by Agent Orange exposure. Zumwalt also suspected it was responsible, via genetics, for brain damage in his grandson.

The 60 Minute’s “blue sheet,” which is a one-page prospectus, was a shocking summary: “Imagine an area where the infant mortality rate is about five-times the national average, birth defects are six times higher . . . and in the last few years, 16 sets of Siamese twins have been born.” It was sure to be a high-impact, emotional story. The TV magazine came to me to help set up what would be a difficult journey into some of Vietnam’s least-accessible topography.

Is this young girl with a severe hand deformity an Agent Orange victim? 
During my scouting mission I was introduced to frightened parents with deformed children; many with limb imperfections. One young man howled like a wild animal. Two brothers—Siamese twins—had been surgically separated but one was in a vegetative state. 

At Saigon’s Tu Du Hospital, I photographed the “collection room,” with dozens of jars of malformed fetuses, including conjoined twins and triplets. In my final report for 60 Minutes I suggested the specimens, submerged in formaldehyde, might be too gruesome for a television audience.

When I submitted my summary to CBS producers, I raised ominous doubts: “Throughout my stops in Vietnam, I kept hearing about incomplete statistics or none at all, studies with poor protocols, and the need for Western research assistance. Anecdotal, circumstantial and statistical evidence points to a connection, but that is not definitive.”

I concluded, “The terrible conditions I saw occur naturally in every country around the world. Also, most Vietnamese exposed to the noxious concoction appear to be leading normal lives.” 60 Minutes cancelled the project. I was told that Bradley was needed elsewhere, but I suspect another reason was the inconclusive research. It also left me a cynic. 

Agent Orange symposium in Iowa in 2014. Photo: Iowa Public Radio.
But two decades later in Des Moines, Iowa, I covered a public hearing on the human toll of Agent Orange. Vietnam Veterans of America sponsored the symposium and a parade of more than 50 people gave gripping testimony; both veterans and their offspring. Their emotional stories were devastating and believable. It was a turning point for me.

Prestigious medical research is ongoing into Agent Orange’s role in numerous health aberrations. The Veterans Administration has added new medical conditions to the list of “presumptive” diseases linked to the herbicide, including Parkinson’s.

I have just started my journey down the treacherous road of Parkinson’s—my primary care physician calls it a “devastating diagnosis.” It progresses at different speeds for different patients, but not everyone experiences all of the symptoms—many of which are terrifying.

At this point, my problems are not obvious to others, but I am constantly looking over my shoulder, as are the other 100,000 Iowa Vietnam veterans who may find a terrorist—Agent Orange—knocking on their door.

I never imagined that I might some day be a “disabled veteran,” but that is the designation granted by the VA for veterans with approved, but unwanted, service-connected diagnoses. While the war ended long ago, it is no hallucination that the casualty count continues to surge.

{I wrote a full chapter about my 60 Minutes research in my digital book Broadcasters: Untold Chaos, available at Amazon and other e-book stores.}

6 comments:

  1. Wow very insightful heart felt piece. You can’t take the journalist out of the PD patient. With love and support. Garry

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    1. Perhaps I will continue writing about PD, especially if it can raise awareness for veterans and non-vets. Thanks for the encouragement.

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  2. Rick you are a fighter This will not stop you Keep up the fight

    Steve

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    1. Will actually be lacing up gloves for the fight---literally. Non-contact boxing is a legitimate therapy and the VA offers it. Good for balance, strength, flexibility and more. Thanks Steve.

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  3. Wow! So good to face it head on. There are many options now to hopefully slow the progression down. Take care and thank you for the wonderful writing.

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    1. Debbie, appreciate your hopeful words. Over time, I'll find out just how tough I am.

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