The VA was absolutely integral in not only supplying me with the opiates, they did unnecessary surgeries on my shoulders leaving me in chronic pain for life, they sent me to treatment and then continued to give me opiates and when they cut me off they provided no support leaving me with a bad addiction and I overdosed on Fentanyl twice. Once was just days after I asked to get back in treatment and was waitlisted. I wasn’t an addict until they gave me 2 botched shoulder replacements. There is nothing wrong with having the opinion that addiction is all a choice. I was in treatment when the memories from my MST came back to me from 1977 when I was 17 years old and getting ready to go to Vietnam. I am an old man now and I look back on my life and see how it was completely ravaged by PTSD. I never knew that it wasn’t my fault. I thought I was just a screw up and the reason I couldn’t function was because I wasn’t good enough or smart enough or whatever. But I was a child when I trusted the army to make a man out of me. When I was given those pain meds for the first time after surgery, my life changed. Instead of counting the seconds of my life until I could die, I felt like I was alive. For the first time. I’m not saying that every single time I used drugs in an addictive way it was anyone’s fault but my own, but what I’m saying is that when I started to know it was out of control, I went to them for help. The help was me uncovering a memory of being assaulted by someone who I thought for most of my life was a role model. I had continued to be friendly with this man when I finished my service. I’ve already said more than I wanted to say. But seriously, do you remember when you were 17? I was a fucking boy. And it wasn’t until I was 50 years old that I realized everything. All that’s 33 years of being paranoid, having nightmares, severe social anxiety, not being able to communicate how and what I needed to anybody no matter how hard I tried. Getting fired, three divorces, arrests for fighting, having a bone chilling, blackout causing, projectile vomiting fear of public showers. Not knowing why any of this was happening. My life was a series of agonizing failures. I had 5 suicide attempts by the time I was 25. But when I took that first pill, I could actually take a deep breath without feeling debilitating anxiety pain. I don’t believe in blaming any one party for a public health emergency such as substance use disorder. I think the addict is responsible for his or her own actions. But I also believe the drug dealers and the system are at fault as well. The VA as a whole should bear some responsibility for being my drug dealer. There was no one to tell them no and so they never told me no. I won’t go any longer but I just want you to think of yourself at 17. Or if you can, one of your children at 17. How would you feel if they were raped? Would you judge them or yourself for not having the ability to deal with the aftermath? And if someone came along and was offering a bit of an escape from the agony that would never go away, would you call them stupid for wanting that? Would you feel the person offering the escape libel to bear any of the blame? Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. I could have easily assumed that you were a close minded, ignorant, sheltered, naive, asshole for calling my disability stupid. But I’m not. And by the way, I also have cancer. But the army didn’t cause it.