Effectively managing post traumatic stress disorder
This is the story of how Dennis Hale manages the PTSD of his near-death experience.
At 2:00 am on the morning of November 29, 1966, Dennis was asleep in his bunk on the Daniel J. Morrell in the middle of Lake Huron. A seasoned sailor, he’d learned to sleep under any condition.
Battling 70 mph winds and 30-foot waves, the Morrell was headed north, for the Soo Locks. At 2:15 am he was awakened by a general alarm and a series of loud thuds. Built with the same brittle steel as the Titanic, the ship was breaking up.
Wearing only boxer shorts, he put on a life preserver, a heavy pea coat, went on deck, and was swept into the 44-degree water and 34-degree darkness.
He swam to a life raft and was joined by three fully-dressed fellow crewmen. By daylight, they were dead – their clothes frozen stiff.
The ship was reported missing when it failed to reach Duluth, more than a full day after it sank. On the raft, he occasionally slept, but awakened angrily thinking that he was dying and when you freeze to death you don’t wake up.
He remembers a dream, or possibly a hallucination, of travelling down a dark tunnel and entering a bright room where he saw his mother, who’d died when he was a young boy, and some fellow crewmen. They told him he couldn’t stay there.
Thirty-eight hours after being pitched overboard, a Coast Guard helicopter spotted him and his three dead companions. He was rescued by another boat and, with frostbitten toes and a body temperature of 94 degrees, taken to the Harbor Beach, Michigan, hospital.
His temperature returned to normal and his toes healed within days. But the psychological damage persisted. He harbored feelings of guilt and couldn’t find answers to haunting questions: Why did I live? Was I spared for some greater good? What? How can I find it?
For many years he worked with psychologists and counselors. He drifted from job to job. He entered into and left relationships and marriages. He tried every religion he could find. Nothing brought relief.
Then one day he decided to begin writing about his experience, thoughts and feelings as he had the emotional strength to remember and reflect on them. He wrote in fits and starts, putting the work aside for days or weeks at a time when it became too difficult to continue, and skipping around topics as the spirit moved him.
Four years later he self-published his story in a book: SHIPWRECKED – REFLECTIONS OF THE SOLE SURVIVOR. That rekindled interest in the 1966 news story about the tragedy and curiosity about what became of its survivor. He’s been interviewed on TV and radio many times, featured in numerous newspaper and magazine articles, and travelled extensively promoting his book and speaking about his experience.
It was a sunny, glorious Memorial Day when I visited with Dennis, only slightly younger than I, on the porch of the Shipwreck Museum at Whitefish Point in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. From his chair he could look out at a placid Lake Superior and passing freighters. As we chatted, he recapped his story for me, pausing to autograph his book and have his picture taken with well wishers, especially young boys. He seemed to relish his celebrity status in a perfect environment.
There may be a place for managing PTSD symptoms with anti-insomnia, anti-anxiety, anti-hypertension and anti-depressant medications. But the greater good in Dennis’ survival is showing that telling and retelling his stories is an effective management.
Jim Waun
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