RAY CLINE - VETS PTSD MENTAL HEALTH MEMORIAL FUND
Donation protected
In Memory of my Gentle Giant Brother, Ray Cline, I am asking for Donations to Remember Other Vets with Mental Health Issues like PTSD & Depression. Ray's cremains will be buried next to our Biological Parents, Ralph Raymond Cline & Pearlene Mae Fowler Cline, in the small, peaceful, country cemetery at Potwin, KS. Our mother Pearlene Fowler's parents & grandparents - 3 generations of Fowlers - are also in this cemetery.
In Death, I want my brother to be at Peace and near biological family, whom he wasn't near during his life after the age of 5.
Since the majority of his Final Expenses have now been paid for, All funds donated over the cost of moving his items out of the nursing home will be given to organizations that deal with PTSD, Depression - Mental Health for Veterans. This is a very worthy cause. I know this after dealing with both a father and a brother who have tried to deal with the horrors of PTSD, Depression and Schizo-Affective Disorder.
Here's Ray's Story:
Ray Cline (Raymond Kent Cline), my brother, passed away Saturday, July 25, 2020 at the age of 66 1/2. He & I were born to a an Air Force veteran who served 5 tours of duty during World War II & the Korean War. Our father, Ralph Raymond Cline, was later determined to be 100% disabled, after being shot down during The Korean War. However . . .
It took our father many years to get Veterans Benefits, during which the PTSD was so ferocious that he often thought we were being shot at. He had a hard time getting and keeping jobs with his PTSD. So 6 of us from 1 to 9 years old were placed in a foster home because neither of our parents could handle the stress of hungry children & joblessness & PTSD.
We lived in the foster home out near Leon, KS for a year, then went back to Augusta to live with our mother for a year. At the end of that year, with my father still in the VA Hospital, so it was decided that we would return to the foster home. After 4 more years, the foster parents decided to retire. When Ray & I were 10 & 11. We were split off from our other 4 siblings, and placed with an adoptive family in Ray's 5th grade year.
The Adoptive Parents turned out to be alcoholics. We didn't know what that was at the time, since we'd only lived in homes with no alcohol present until that time. When our Adoptive Mother drank, which she did nightly, after work, she took out her frustrations on Raymond. She told him nightly & any time she was drinking, that she never wanted a boy, and she was stuck with him. I spent my life trying to protect him from them.
We ran out of the house at the ages of 16 & 17 because they were once again beating us for some imagined thing we'd done. Ray left to run to the police station, and I followed him, in a surge of self-protection. The cop took us to his parents' house in the country. Their daughter was one of my best friends.
We stayed with them until the courts decided to rescind the adoption. That was better, but still lonely. We still didn't feel safe talking about the abuse, as we'd always been threatened with our lives if we ever spoke about what happened at the adoptive home. Ray was alone a lot, and the abusive parents wouldn't sign his Release to play any sports during his junior & senior years. I moved to Augusta to live with the former foster parents during my senior year, but that left Ray all alone with his feelings, and I failed to consider that before running away. I'm still very sorry about that.
As a result, Ray became depressed and not knowing how to handle it, joined the Air Force. He became a disabled veteran who suffered from PTSD, Depression & late onset Schizo-Affective Disorder. After he left the military, he was married, and worked as a mechanic. After a divorce, he helped raise his 2nd wife's 2 children. He was a master gardener, and they always had a backyard full of fresh vegetables. After that marriage ended, he married for a 3rd time, and had Austin, his only biological son. Even though that marriage also ended in divorce, he paid his child support and visited Austin as often as he could. He taught Austin to love cars and fishing, just as he did. Life isn't always easy for veterans with PTSD. They need help to work through their demons so that they can live a normal life. He didn't get that help until much later.
When we first realized he was hiding out with depression & paranoia, about 1993 or 1994, it was because he wouldn't answer the door or the phone. Because I was worried that he might hurt himself, I took steps to have him picked up and evaluated at a local Wichita hospital. Trust me: the system doesn't allow you to easily help someone who needs help. I would have preferred NOT to have to go through the Sheriff's Office to get this done.
It took my sister Sharon & I 2 years to get him approved for Veterans Benefits so that he could get the help he needed. When that was approved, he began a long hospitalization to get on the right medications to help him with his battle with depression and to stop the voices he heard from the schizo-affective disorder. If you've never known someone with mental illness, getting on the right meds can take a long time. And, after a few years, the meds will need to be changed. Ray had a lot of hospitalizations to get his meds right.
When Ray was on the right meds, he was the big loving & gentle Teddy-Bear who was kind to everyone. When his meds got mixed up, he became either paranoid, or angry. I have been helping him with this illness since 1993. I have seen him at his best and his worst. When he's allowed me to help him to get on the right meds, he's enjoyed a fairly decent life. He has been in a wheelchair for the past 10 years, but he always had a positive attitude unless he was in pain. He helped many of his neighbors in Topeka's Echo Ridge neighborhood when there wasn't enough money to get to the end of the month.
Last fall, after a 9 day hospitalization in Topeka, we were able, with the help of his son Austin, who had driven down from his home in Washington state, to get him moved to a nursing home in Halstead. He got good care there, but after a very long bout with pneumonia in February, he never regained the strength to get in and out of bed alone.
We couldn't go into the nursing home since March 12, due to covid-19. But, I would go to his bedroom window and call him on the phone and show him his beloved dog Lucky. We hoped & prayed that he would regain his strength, but he just couldn't. The muscles lose their strength when the body is laying in bed for too long. My sister Sharon, who was his POA, decided it was time to help him manage his pain. She had previous experience with Hospice when her husband Harold needed them.
Thanks to my sister Sharon's lobbying efforts with the nursing home & Hospice, she & I were allowed to come into the Nursing Home to be with Raymond during his last few days. I am so glad that we could be there to hold his hand, call relatives to talk to him and tell him Goodbye.
For My Brother Raymond Kent Cline, I want to start a Memorial Fund that will help others with Mental Illness to get the help they need. I am particularly concerned with Veterans with Mental Illness, since I've seen it in both my father and my brother.
I want to publicly honor both my father & my brother for their sacrifices by speaking out about PTSD, Depression & The Need for More Mental Health Services for Veterans.
Thank you for any donations you give. I will put them to good use. For every veteran like my brother, who finally received the help he needed, there are many on the streets, with no help, and no one to advocate for them. Marsha A. Hill
In Death, I want my brother to be at Peace and near biological family, whom he wasn't near during his life after the age of 5.
Since the majority of his Final Expenses have now been paid for, All funds donated over the cost of moving his items out of the nursing home will be given to organizations that deal with PTSD, Depression - Mental Health for Veterans. This is a very worthy cause. I know this after dealing with both a father and a brother who have tried to deal with the horrors of PTSD, Depression and Schizo-Affective Disorder.
Here's Ray's Story:
Ray Cline (Raymond Kent Cline), my brother, passed away Saturday, July 25, 2020 at the age of 66 1/2. He & I were born to a an Air Force veteran who served 5 tours of duty during World War II & the Korean War. Our father, Ralph Raymond Cline, was later determined to be 100% disabled, after being shot down during The Korean War. However . . .
It took our father many years to get Veterans Benefits, during which the PTSD was so ferocious that he often thought we were being shot at. He had a hard time getting and keeping jobs with his PTSD. So 6 of us from 1 to 9 years old were placed in a foster home because neither of our parents could handle the stress of hungry children & joblessness & PTSD.
We lived in the foster home out near Leon, KS for a year, then went back to Augusta to live with our mother for a year. At the end of that year, with my father still in the VA Hospital, so it was decided that we would return to the foster home. After 4 more years, the foster parents decided to retire. When Ray & I were 10 & 11. We were split off from our other 4 siblings, and placed with an adoptive family in Ray's 5th grade year.
The Adoptive Parents turned out to be alcoholics. We didn't know what that was at the time, since we'd only lived in homes with no alcohol present until that time. When our Adoptive Mother drank, which she did nightly, after work, she took out her frustrations on Raymond. She told him nightly & any time she was drinking, that she never wanted a boy, and she was stuck with him. I spent my life trying to protect him from them.
We ran out of the house at the ages of 16 & 17 because they were once again beating us for some imagined thing we'd done. Ray left to run to the police station, and I followed him, in a surge of self-protection. The cop took us to his parents' house in the country. Their daughter was one of my best friends.
We stayed with them until the courts decided to rescind the adoption. That was better, but still lonely. We still didn't feel safe talking about the abuse, as we'd always been threatened with our lives if we ever spoke about what happened at the adoptive home. Ray was alone a lot, and the abusive parents wouldn't sign his Release to play any sports during his junior & senior years. I moved to Augusta to live with the former foster parents during my senior year, but that left Ray all alone with his feelings, and I failed to consider that before running away. I'm still very sorry about that.
As a result, Ray became depressed and not knowing how to handle it, joined the Air Force. He became a disabled veteran who suffered from PTSD, Depression & late onset Schizo-Affective Disorder. After he left the military, he was married, and worked as a mechanic. After a divorce, he helped raise his 2nd wife's 2 children. He was a master gardener, and they always had a backyard full of fresh vegetables. After that marriage ended, he married for a 3rd time, and had Austin, his only biological son. Even though that marriage also ended in divorce, he paid his child support and visited Austin as often as he could. He taught Austin to love cars and fishing, just as he did. Life isn't always easy for veterans with PTSD. They need help to work through their demons so that they can live a normal life. He didn't get that help until much later.
When we first realized he was hiding out with depression & paranoia, about 1993 or 1994, it was because he wouldn't answer the door or the phone. Because I was worried that he might hurt himself, I took steps to have him picked up and evaluated at a local Wichita hospital. Trust me: the system doesn't allow you to easily help someone who needs help. I would have preferred NOT to have to go through the Sheriff's Office to get this done.
It took my sister Sharon & I 2 years to get him approved for Veterans Benefits so that he could get the help he needed. When that was approved, he began a long hospitalization to get on the right medications to help him with his battle with depression and to stop the voices he heard from the schizo-affective disorder. If you've never known someone with mental illness, getting on the right meds can take a long time. And, after a few years, the meds will need to be changed. Ray had a lot of hospitalizations to get his meds right.
When Ray was on the right meds, he was the big loving & gentle Teddy-Bear who was kind to everyone. When his meds got mixed up, he became either paranoid, or angry. I have been helping him with this illness since 1993. I have seen him at his best and his worst. When he's allowed me to help him to get on the right meds, he's enjoyed a fairly decent life. He has been in a wheelchair for the past 10 years, but he always had a positive attitude unless he was in pain. He helped many of his neighbors in Topeka's Echo Ridge neighborhood when there wasn't enough money to get to the end of the month.
Last fall, after a 9 day hospitalization in Topeka, we were able, with the help of his son Austin, who had driven down from his home in Washington state, to get him moved to a nursing home in Halstead. He got good care there, but after a very long bout with pneumonia in February, he never regained the strength to get in and out of bed alone.
We couldn't go into the nursing home since March 12, due to covid-19. But, I would go to his bedroom window and call him on the phone and show him his beloved dog Lucky. We hoped & prayed that he would regain his strength, but he just couldn't. The muscles lose their strength when the body is laying in bed for too long. My sister Sharon, who was his POA, decided it was time to help him manage his pain. She had previous experience with Hospice when her husband Harold needed them.
Thanks to my sister Sharon's lobbying efforts with the nursing home & Hospice, she & I were allowed to come into the Nursing Home to be with Raymond during his last few days. I am so glad that we could be there to hold his hand, call relatives to talk to him and tell him Goodbye.
For My Brother Raymond Kent Cline, I want to start a Memorial Fund that will help others with Mental Illness to get the help they need. I am particularly concerned with Veterans with Mental Illness, since I've seen it in both my father and my brother.
I want to publicly honor both my father & my brother for their sacrifices by speaking out about PTSD, Depression & The Need for More Mental Health Services for Veterans.
Thank you for any donations you give. I will put them to good use. For every veteran like my brother, who finally received the help he needed, there are many on the streets, with no help, and no one to advocate for them. Marsha A. Hill
Organizer
Marsha Hill
Organizer
Halstead, KS