By Joseph F. Kavanagh, MPA, MIS, MSW
2025 Dole Caregiver Fellow, Oklahoma
Content warning: mentions suicide
As I thought about how to address World Mental Health Day—a single day to recognize one of the most important aspects of our lives—I realized one day is clearly not enough. In order to really improve our mental health, we must realize it’s a daily responsibility, something I didn’t learn until it was almost too late.
We often define our identities through labels, those others give us and those we give ourselves. So, I fall to labels to speak to you. I am a caregiver to my veteran wife. I am also a veteran who served in both the Army and the Navy—the latter is where I met my wife. I am also a nurse and a social worker, among many other labels.
Today, I speak about mental health as my most important label: human. I have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and I take care of a veteran with a traumatic brain injury (TBI). My time in the Navy was spent in Pathology and in Decedent Affairs, charged with caring for those who had made the ultimate sacrifice. These were emotionally-charged jobs that dealt with death and loss. I really didn’t know how to take care of myself emotionally. Many behaviors I used to cope were maladaptive—and that is a generous assessment. I did not take care of my physical or emotional health, and instead, focused on caring for others.
After leaving the military due to my own disability, my life began to revolve around caring for my wife and our two young children. I put their needs in front of my own, but I was still haunted by experiences, loss, and disappointment.
In January of 2024, I was diagnosed with end-stage liver disease. I was told I was terminal and that I was not a candidate for a transplant because of the state of my health. I was confronted with multiple serious physical health issues, and my mental health was not good. I had previously contemplated suicide due to the dark, twisted thoughts before; now my life choices and physical neglect were catching up to me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to live or die. Part of me wanted the pain to end, while the other part knew my family needed me.
Ten months later, after unimaginable pain, six psych evaluations, and every physical exam imaginable, I was listed as a transplant candidate by the VA—the night before Thanksgiving at 9 PM. Since my condition was so dire, the doctors wrote an order to allow me to have whatever I wanted to eat on Thanksgiving but asked me not to “overdo” it. The doctor then told me that it would be my last Thanksgiving unless a transplant happened quickly.
At 4 AM Friday morning, the nurses’ station started buzzing. A few minutes later my nurse knocked on the door and told me to be ready for a call. Fifteen minutes later, my doctor told me he had accepted the transplant on my behalf, and the next day, I received a transplant that saved my life. Literally saved my life.
Did my liver transplant cure my mental health problems? Not at all, not even close. I still have every single emotion and problem I had before. The difference is I got to see the other side. After coming so close to death, I realized what a gift it is to be alive. I still have days of emotional and physical pain. But I also have a stark reminder that I need to take care of my health, that others need and rely on me, and that my thoughts and labels guide me.
For me, mental health is personally, not professionally, defined as the ability to love and be loved, to be reasonably content with life, and the ability to be resilient in the face of adversity. Is it the correct definition for you in your journey? I don’t know. I simply hope that you find that which brings meaning to your life. If you don’t know how to find that meaning, reach out and keep searching. Please give yourself and your loved ones the gift of making everyday a Mental Health Day.
Peace!
