As a specialist in wound care, my area of treatment is physical body wounds such as chronic ulcers, traumatic wounds, post-operative complications, and problematic delayed healing cases. My patients are those who are suffering from pain, irritated by the delay, and also bearing the psychological burden of chronic illness. Every case requires not just clinical expertise but enormous patience and compassion.
Every year, as Memorial Day draws near, I wonder more and more about the nature of visible and invisible wounds. This national holiday of remembrance is for those who have died in service to our nation. It's a day to stop, recall, and sense the weight of that sacrifice. But it also encourages us to reflect on the long-term price of war, and that is the agony that remains long after the battle has fallen silent.
Not all scars can be seen. And not all recovery occurs in the clinic.
For other veterans and families of the deceased, Memorial Day is personal. Behind the ceremonies, flags, and parades are the stories of immense loss and strength. The father who goes to his son's grave, the mother who pins a gold star on her heart, and the veteran who stands silently, recalling the faces of friends who didn't return home with us.
These wounds of sorrow, trauma, survivor's guilt, and moral injury are not documented in medical records, but they are real and lasting. They influence how folks sleep, how they interact with others, and how they perceive the world. As clinicians, as community members, and as human beings, we are called to acknowledge these unseen wounds with the same solemnity we do physical traumas.
In wound management, we are taught to see beyond the surface. A non-healing ulcer is not merely about what the skin looks like, it's about vascular health, delivery of oxygen, infection, blood glucose control, nutrition, and even psychosocial stress. Real healing is more than just skin deep, as it is a complicated, multi-layered process, built from the unique experiences each person has lived.
So it is with the wounds of war.
The visible injuries, like amputations, burns, and shrapnel scars, are often accompanied by psychological scars that usually go unnoticed. PTSD, depression, anxiety, and substance use, just to name a few. The stigma surrounding mental health, especially in military culture, can prevent veterans from seeking help. That makes our role, whether as healthcare providers or simply as listeners, even more critical.
This Memorial Day, I ask my colleagues in health care and the general population to look more deeply at the various shapes wounds can take, and the various ways healing can happen.
Let us not forget those who never came home. But let us also remember those who did, with emotional scars they may always carry. The scars of war, the death of brothers and sisters in arms, and the adjustment of returning to civilian life, these are all challenges which deserve our attention and compassion all year round, not merely for one holiday.
We can remember the fallen by remembering the living.
That may mean participation in organizations that provide mental health services for veterans. It may mean taking the time to truly listen when someone shares their story. It may mean advocating for better healthcare access or simply being present for a grieving friend.
In the clinic, when I am treating a wound, I realize that what I am seeing is just half of the story. Healing is many times a team effort of nutritionists, physical therapists, social workers, and psychologists all working in concert on the person, rather than the injury. Likewise, caring for our veterans and Gold Star families is about joining as a community. It is about including empathy as part of our healthcare systems, schools, neighborhoods, and policy.
Memorial Day is not merely a remembrance of the dead. It's a reaffirmation of our devotion to those remaining behind. It's a testament to the cost of freedom and human strength.
In remembering the fallen, we remember the heft of their sacrifice. In taking care of the wounded, both body and soul, we carry on that holy work of service. With compassion, warmth, truth, and hope, we carry the legacy of care forward from the field and into the lives of those irreparably altered by war.
