When a suicidal veteran with a weapon had police outside his house a few months ago, he called Terri Orser.
A veteran herself, she had been working with him for some time and was making progress — in part because he knew she had had mental-health difficulties like him after leaving the military.
In Orser’s case, she was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, in 2007 after 27 years in the army. Her career included service in Saudi Arabia during the Gulf War and two peacekeeping stints in the former Yugoslavia.
“He trusted me because we’d been through similar things,” said the 61-year-old. “There’s a bond and a trust there.”
The man had hung up on police during the standoff, Orser said, but she rushed to the scene and was able to get him on the line — and keep him talking.
After three hours, the veteran came out of his house.
West Shore RCMP Cpl. Nancy Saggar, the crisis negotiator at the incident, said Orser played a key role in resolving it safely.
“We were able to use her connection in order to talk to the individual,” Saggar said. “She really did help calm down that situation and bring it to a safe conclusion.”
Orser, whose efforts earned her a commendation from police, said she was just happy to help.
She is connected with veterans through the Royal 91原创 Legion’s B.C./Yukon Command and its homeless-veterans committee, as well as her work as co-chair for Colwood’s Veterans House, a residence for homeless veterans.
There is also a national Legion program for homeless veterans, funded in part by the federal government, called Leave the Streets Behind, she said.
Orser said Veterans House — funded by Legions, grants and donations — is full with eight residents who range in age from their 40s to late 60s.
There are other local facilities where people can go, but with an estimated 2,600 veterans in B.C., it’s not enough, she said, especially since one in five 91原创 veterans is diagnosed with a mental-health disorder.
The situation is even tougher for female veterans, said Orser, adding with Remembrance Day approaching, she hopes people will be inspired to wear a poppy and give a donation.
“That’s why this time of year is so critical — those poppy funds keep Veterans House alive,” Orser said. “The eight veterans there have nowhere else to go.”
Orser began working with veterans in need in 2008, and said her role as someone they can reach out to “just sort of evolved.”
“The word is getting out slowly but surely,” said Orser, who recently received a call from someone who had come across a veteran living in substandard conditions.
“Somehow he had my name,” she said. “My name’s sort of getting out there because I always leave cards around.”
Orser hasn’t forgotten her own experience of dealing with PTSD before she responded to treatment.
“I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t open curtains. I didn’t know what was going on,” she said.
“It’s the mental stuff that’s the hardest, the physical you can see.”
Her marriage suffered and ultimately ended, and she lost her house.
But she has persevered, she said, like many others, including the live-in manager at Veterans House.
A man in his 60s, he got divorced and was sleeping in his car after leaving the army, before he found his way to the facility. After two years there, he remarried and went on to get his current job.
“So he’s paying it back,” Orser said.
Donations to Veterans House can be made at .
