Be Inspired:
JOE PATERNITI BY CRAIG COLLINS
WHEN HE GRADUATED FROM BOTHELL HIGH SCHOOL, JUST OUTSIDE SEATTLE, IN 1983, JOE PATERNITI WANTED TO GO TO COLLEGE. HIS FAMILY IS LOADED WITH MARINES AND SAILORS – HIS GRANDFATHER, A NAVY PILOT, FLEW GRUMMAN HELLCATS OFF AIRCRAFT CARRIERS IN WORLD WAR II – AND HE SAW THE MILITARY AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO SERVE AND GET SOME ASSISTANCE WITH HIS EDUCATION. “I actually went to a Marine Corps recruiter first,” he said, “because I had so much respect for the Marines. But the recruiter actually listened to me and understood that I had a lot of interest in the medical field, and he took me down the hallway to the Navy recruiter and said, ‘Hey, this guy wants to be a doc.’ I felt betrayed at first, but then he explained to me that the Marines don’t have their own medical staff; that’s what Navy corpsmen were for. I was flabbergasted. I never knew that.” Paterniti trained with Marines at Camp Pendleton, became a corpsman, and entered the Naval Reserves. He’s balanced a career as a paramedic fireman – now with the Fire Department in Everett, Washington – with five active-duty deployments that have taken him to Honduras, Korea, Turkey, and Iraq. He’s now a Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman, Fleet Marine Forces (FMF). “What I really loved about being a corpsman,” Paterniti said, “was the pride in taking care of my guys, and knowing they were mine, and nobody could mess with them unless they went through me. I was the one that they would come to if they were hurt or sick. I really enjoyed that. I also got to experience what it’s like to be with a combat unit. Being with the Marine Corps infantry unit in Iraq was very dangerous and scary, and painful at times, and at the same time I really pride myself on being a hospital corpsman with a specialty in Marine field medicine.” After his deployment to Iraq, which began soon after the initial invasion in 2003, Paterniti said, “I came back for the most part in one piece.” He’d suffered several concussions, and significant hearing loss, from exposure to blasts and gunfire, and he also suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which went undiagnosed for a while: He wanted to keep serving, and he didn’t think he had it any worse than anyone else, so he kept quiet and downplayed his ailments. As a Corpsman, he knew how to answer diagnostic questions in a way that would keep him from being red-flagged.
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2019 Warrior Games
“But the thing about PTSD,” he said, “is eventually your behavior starts to reveal things, and the people who care about you start realizing that even though you may still be able to do your job, you’re not acting like yourself. You have trouble remembering things.” Paterniti was married and divorced twice after returning from Iraq, and his mental health contributed to the failure of both relationships. “I was able to suck it up and go to work and manage to put a good face forward,” he said. “I always put duty first. It was always Honor, Courage, Commitment. But until I started seeking help for some of my mental health issues, with PTSD, things weren’t getting better.” It wasn’t until his most recent return to active duty, in 2013, that Paterniti even understood the kind of help available to him. When a position as a nonmedical care manager with the Navy Wounded Warrior – Safe Harbor program became available in the area, he applied, though he’d never heard of it. The program managers liked his background and his attitude, and brought him aboard. “I didn’t know anything about this wounded warrior stuff,” he said. “I’d heard about the Wounded Warrior Project, but I didn’t know that each military service branch had their own wounded warrior program, where they take care of a lot of the nonmedical issues for people with serious illnesses and injuries.” Paterniti served as a kind of concierge for ill or wounded warriors, helping them with their nonmedical issues – finding temporary lodgings for cancer patients, for example, who’d just been sent to the Seattle area from Hawaii, and whose material possessions hadn’t arrived yet. “Some of it was crazy, catastrophic stuff, things our commands aren’t always equipped to help with.” Paterniti managed cases all over the Pacific Northwest – and it was through this service, helping all these ill and wounded warriors solve their problems, that he realized he wasn’t doing a great job of solving his own. “I’m really good at helping others,” he said, “but I’m not very good at helping myself sometimes. I was fortunate because
