Opinion: I experienced trauma working in Iraq. I see it now among America’s doctors
The next time you wrap up a visit with a health care provider, ask him or her, "How are you doing?"
I was on my honeymoon in Colombia when I first became aware of the true extent of my post-traumatic stress disorder. My husband and I were walking across a smooth, granite platform to take a closer look at a fountain in downtown Cartagena. As we neared the structure, mist from the fountain’s jets dampened the ground at my feet.
I froze, paralyzed with fear by a flashback — my first — triggered by something as ordinary as wet pavement on a warm day.
Two years earlier, I was working in civic engagement efforts in Baghdad. One morning, as I walked across a smooth, granite platform toward my apartment, gunfire erupted. I tried to run, but my flip-flops bested me on the pavement, still damp from an early
