As part of that initial march northward into Baghdad, my first deployment in Iraq was mind blowing. The infrastructure now established in Iraq was almost non-existent; fearing chemical warfare, we had to wear mop suits day and night; and for one whole month, I never even took off my boots, but the experience can never be recreated. The adrenaline that keeps soldiers going on vacuum-packed MREs (meals ready to eat) and the bonds that formed between me and my buddies-well, those are feelings that most people never experience and really cannot understand.

My second deployment in Iraq began in May 2004. Promoted to Squad Leader, my company found itself stationed in Najaf. People know about Falluja- they talk about the danger fighting there-but Najaf, equally bad, is often overlooked. It was there that a rocket grenade exploded in front of me, and blew off my lower jaw. Four hospitals and ten-plus surgeries later, I had a new jaw, created by doctors.

I moved to Los Angeles when I came home. I hadn't grown up in the city, and I didn't have family around, but I decided to go to school at The Art Institute of California, Los Angeles for a degree in culinary management, and, to be honest, I wasn't going to say no to a chance to live in LA. Coming home was a slow transition, however. I still had to run down to San Diego for medical treatments, and it took some time to get my DD214 forms all together.

At discharge, I was made to believe that the VA would be very crowded and that everything would take forever to process. This fear spurred me to enroll immediately. I wanted my benefits. I didn't think about health care when signing up at the VA. I was healthy and I'd had my share of surgeries. I didn't think that I'd need a physical for at least a year, I thankfully was not dealing with any PTSD issues, and I was physically and mentally ready to jump-start my civilian life. I was mostly interested in the benefits of the GI Bill and pension.

But of course, medical assistance was what I ended up using the VA for first. My school wanted me to shave my beard, but I really couldn’t. I tried, but after all those surgeries, it felt like sticking needles into my face. Needing a doctor’s note to waive the beard rule, I realized that my best option was probably the VA. Since I hadn’t used medical services before, I was unsure of who to call, but I shuffled through my papers and found a business card with Tom Nishimura’s number, a social worker whose name I vaguely remembered. I called him on Monday, and by Thursday I had a doctor’s appointment.  I was impressed. Adding to my satisfaction, I was happy to find that the hospital was way less crowded than I expected, and fairly easy to manage. I found Tom’s office, where I talked to him a bit, and then got to see my doctor.

People worry that the West LA VA is too big, and that it won’t be personal, but I see it differently. For one thing, everyone has a “go to” person, Tom at GLA, and Tom is awesome. I can call Tom and come into the hospital the same day. It sounds cheesy, but it kind of seems like I’m his only patient. And while it may be an unusual view about hospitals, I say the bigger the better. The more doctors there are, the more opportunity for me to go from specialist to specialist, getting different treatments for different conditions.

Undoubtedly, the processing can be a bit slow at the VA, and I won’t lie, mistakes happen. I was initially enrolled in the wrong priority group, and it was annoying to fix. But the service is friendly, the care is good, and besides, when you’re on your own, putting your life back together, it’s nice to know that there’s a group of people—just a call away—to help you with those glitches that always seem to arise.