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Yahoo
18-03-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
The Mental Toll of Unexpectedly Spending Months in Space
The longest eight days Butch Wilmore and Suni Williams ever spent turned out to last more than nine months. On June 5, 2024, the two NASA astronauts launched aboard the maiden mission of Boeing's new Starliner spacecraft for what was supposed to be a short shakedown cruise to the International Space Station (ISS), before turning around and heading home after just over a week. A veteran of two long-duration station rotations, Williams had spent a cumulative 322 days in space before her June launch. While to all appearances she has always thrived in her off-planet work, she was excited about this planned quickie mission. 'We want to go and get back as quickly as possible so they can turn our spacecraft around and also take all those lessons learned and incorporate them into the next Starliner,' she told TIME in a conversation before launch. But that was not to be. Thruster problems and helium leaks aboard Starliner led NASA to conclude that the spacecraft was not fit to carry the astronauts home. Instead the ship left the station and splashed down uncrewed, leaving Wilmore and Williams to join the station rotation, living and working aboard the ISS until a fresh SpaceX Crew Dragon spacecraft arrived to take them home. After much anticipation, that ship docked with the station on March 16 and the two astronauts climbed aboard for an ocean landing later today, March 18, a full 278 days after they were originally scheduled to depart the ISS. So what kind of emotional adjustment did Williams and Wilmore have to make as they went from overnight guests to long-term residents aboard the station? And what will the reacclimation to life on Earth be like after so much time away from home and family—and for that matter from sunshine, fresh air, and the simple fact of gravity? Ever since the first astronauts and cosmonauts went aloft, they've been having to make that through-the-looking-glass transition between terrestrial and extraterrestrial living, and the results have been sometimes comical, sometimes surreal. In 1965, astronauts Frank Borman and Jim Lovell spent a then-record two weeks orbiting Earth in their Gemini VII spacecraft. Lovell recalls being belowdecks aboard the recovery vessel USS Wasp shortly after splashdown and being evaluated by a NASA psychologist. Lovell was drinking coffee and had a spoon in one hand. Meaning to put it down, he instead simply released it a foot above the table, leaving it to fall with a clatter. The psychologist looked at him curiously, and Lovell just shrugged. After a fortnight in zero-g he was accustomed to letting go of objects in mid-air and having them accommodatingly float where they were. In 1971, astronaut Dave Scott had a more otherworldly experience. The commander of Apollo 15, Scott walked on the moon, returned to Earth, and a few days later was feted by his neighbors at a welcome-home cookout. Standing in his back yard, wellwishers circulating, he looked up at the sky where a bright moon was shining. 'A week ago,' he thought incredulously, 'I was there.' Before Wilmore and Williams make the adjustment of returning to Earth, of course, they had to prepare themselves for leaving it in the first place, and that was a process they were at least partly denied. Training for a long-duration space mission is equal parts physical and mental and it's that mental piece—saying goodbye to all earthly people and things for half a year or more—that they missed out on, instead training for just an eight-day mission. That comes at a price. In 2015, TIME visited Russia's Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan to film the documentary series 'A Year in Space,' about astronaut Scott Kelly's near 12-month stay aboard the ISS. Just two days before Kelly launched from Baikonur, TIME spoke to astronaut Jeffrey Williams, part of the back-up crew, who would have flown in Kelly's place if he were unable for some reason to go. He confessed that if that day, 48 hours before liftoff, Kelly was suddenly scratched from the flight, it would be a challenge for him to get up to speed mentally since there is simply no substitute for having fully and wholly prepared for the actual fact that he would be leaving Earth for a year. Retired astronaut Mike Massimino, a veteran of two shuttle missions, says that missing family was likely the hardest mental challenge Wilmore and Williams faced. 'Although they love their jobs and are grateful for the opportunity, there still is the heart tug of being away from home for so long,' he says. Still, to all appearances at least, Wilmore and Williams quickly fit into the ISS life cycle—at least if NASA livestreams of the pair at work both inside the station and during spacewalks were any indication. 'Suni has just oozed such joy for the past eight months,' says retired astronaut Marsha Ivins, a veteran of five space shuttle missions and a friend of both Wilmore and Williams. 'It's infectious to watch her.' 'We came up prepared to stay long, even though we plan to stay short,' Wilmore said in a recent air-to-ground press conference. 'That's what we do in human space flight.' 'All career astronauts know the risks involved in human spaceflight, long or short duration, and they accept those risks when they strap into the rocket for launch,' says Ivins. 'A large part of our training is to learn to deal with the unexpected, the off-nominal, the contingency scenarios, and still get the job done.' Coming home will present different challenges. 'The toughest thing about returning to Earth after many months in space is adapting to gravity,' says retired astronaut Terri Virts, a veteran of two space flights, including one long-duration stay as ISS commander. 'The grueling rehab program NASA put me through was key to my quick adaptation back to my planet. The first few days weren't fun, but I was religious about doing my daily workouts and I was back to driving and normal daily life much more quickly than I expected.' The mental part—as Apollo 15 Commander Scott experienced—is critical too. 'It's important to get back in 'Earth mode' from a psychological perspective,' says Virts. 'For me, it was like a light switch: one day I was living in space, and as soon as I got back to Houston, I was just back to my normal life. It's really important to have goals and things to look forward to down here, as you may or may not get another chance to fly in space.' It's way too early to say if Wilmore or Williams will fly again or whether their extended stay aboard the ISS will be their last trip off the Earth. Astronaut Peggy Whitson holds the U.S. record for most cumulative days in space, at 675. Williams is now in the number two spot at 608 days, and Wilmore has logged a very considerable 464. That might be more than enough for any mortal—astronaut or not. If Wilmore and Williams indeed step away from space, they will do so having distinguished themselves in, as Ivins puts it, the most off-nominal of missions. 'Suni and Butch accepted the unexpected extension to their mission with such grace and humor,' she says. 'Their demonstration of flexibility, adaptability, and optimistic versatility in folding seamlessly into the on-board crew is exactly what one should hope for from a career astronaut and makes me even more proud to call them my friends.' Write to Jeffrey Kluger at
Yahoo
24-02-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
Child psychologist from RI is honored as US Navy Civilian of the Year. Here's why.
Bristol resident Dr. Matthew Picerno, assigned to the U.S. Naval Hospital in Sigonella, Sicily, was recently selected as U.S. Navy 2024 Civilian of the Year for that command. Picerno is a clinical and child psychologist who also served on active duty in the Navy for eight years. "Dr. Picerno is a cornerstone of the Sigonella community," said Lt. Cmdr. Meagan Chauvin, director of medical services. "As the sole child psychologist here, he has supported countless families and developed … resources and systems for children and teens in need. He is an exceptional leader and clinician, and we are so lucky to have him." Picerno was born and raised in New Britain, Connecticut. However, his paternal grandparents lived in Cranston. 'Many of my special memories from childhood are of the weekend visits … to 'Lil' Rhody' to visit them,' he said in an email from Italy. He fell in love with the Rhode Island coast as a boy, 'Yes, I was a 'Rocky Point' and 'Aunt Carrie's' kid! It simply wasn't summer until it included several slightly greasy bags of clam cakes and a couple of stuffies from a weather-beaten shack on the end of a dock.' Picerno is a 1991 graduate of New Britain High School. While there, his first summer job was working in the surgical department of the local hospital. This was his introduction to a medical setting, which gave him an appreciation for the 'human aspects of health care that often get eclipsed by an over-focus on administrative elements." Picerno received his bachelor of arts degree in psychology in 1995 from Trenton State College in New Jersey. He went on to graduate from George Mason University in Virginia, where he earned a master's degree in 1997 and his Ph.D. in clinical psychology in 2001. The training director of the clinical psychology graduate program at George Mason suggested he consider the internship training opportunities provided by the military service branches. 'The more I learned about them, the more I became interested in pursuing them as a career option,' wrote Picerno. 'I saw the Armed Forces as a way to practice psychology in a manner completely different from the usual settings. I would have an opportunity to reach a population experiencing entirely different life circumstances and stressors than is typically the norm.' Most important to Picerno, his patients would be service members and families investing their time and energy in the defense of this nation. He felt they were especially deserving of mental health support and wellness. 'From that point forward, I knew that's what I wanted to do,' he concluded. Harking back to his love of the ocean, service in the Navy appealed to him the most. He was commissioned as a naval lieutenant in 2000 upon admission to the clinical psychology internship program at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland. The training included an assignment aboard the USS Wasp, an amphibious assault ship. This was his first exposure to deployed sailors and Marines. He then served as a clinical psychologist at the New London submarine base from 2001 to 2004. This posting included underway experiences aboard two fast-attack submarines, the USS Seawolf and the USS Dallas. The stresses submariners face are totally different from other branches of the Navy, he said, adding, 'They provided entirely new insights for treating the mental health needs of sea-deployed service members.' During this time, he met Dr. Debra Ann Tucker, a pediatric physician who had worked in Bridgewater, Massachusetts, before she also became a Navy medical officer. The stars aligned, and Matthew and Debra were married in 2005. Although they had entered active duty service several years apart, both underwent initial officer training at the Newport Naval Station. 'We independently solidified our love for the Ocean State,' he added. 'When we married in 2005, we held the ceremony at Oceancliff Hotel in Newport, overlooking Castle Hill Cove." In 'hopeful anticipation' of obtaining that final duty assignment at the Newport Naval Station, they 'preemptively purchased a home in The Highlands neighborhood of Bristol shortly after the wedding, planning to set our family roots there.' He also completed a post-doctoral fellowship in pediatric psychology at Boston Children's Hospital in 2005. During that specialized training, he stayed current in the Navy, embarking on the USS Harry S. Truman during a training cruise. 'This was an ideal preparation for my upcoming assignment as the Ship's Psychologist for the USS Kitty Hawk – an aircraft carrier forward-deployed to Yokosuka, Japan. 'Directly observing the overwhelming toll the intense rhythm of operational settings can take on service members' mental well-being underscored for me the need for immediately-present health care of the highest caliber, along with effective systems that promoted and encouraged its use.' Following promotion to lieutenant commander in 2007, he served as the child psychologist for the the Naval Hospital in Yokosuka. He then deployed to Iraq with the Marines, where he served as the staff psychologist at the Al-Taqaddum Base. 'I was responsible for providing comprehensive psychological services to active-duty military members serving in a combat theater, treating psychiatric conditions greatly intensified by hazardous duty and imminent danger.' He hit the family jackpot with his final active duty tour: an assignment to the Naval Health Clinic in Newport. He was discharged from the Navy in 2008 and entered private practice with Feil & Oppenheimer Psychological Services in Barrington. There, he provided a wide range of outpatient mental health services for all age levels, along with community consultation and treatment. Picerno remained in that practice for almost 11 years, until an opportunity arose that reignited his passion for caring for military and military-connected families. In 2019 he applied for a position at the Naval Hospital/Naval Medical Readiness and Training Command in Sigonella, Italy. 'Here, I am the sole subject matter expert for pediatric mental health, serving the base community while supervising a staff of pediatric specialty clinicians, educators, and administrators – a group of exceptionally dedicated professionals with whom I'm blessed to work.' Naval Hospital Sigonella is on the island of Sicily. Its staff of 387 serves approximately 8,500 active duty service personnel, family members, NATO members, retirees and other beneficiaries. Sigonella also manages a local satellite clinic and two branch health clinics located in Bahrain and Souda Bay on the island of Crete. The Picerno family, by then including daughter Sophia, was able to live in that same Bristol home 'until we embarked on our current life adventure.' Sophia is now a 14-year-old clarinetist attending ninth grade at the Sigonella Middle/High School. 'Eventually, when the time is right, we'll hopefully be making our way back to the state we love,' he said. This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Dr. Matthew Picerno honored as US Navy Civilian of the Year
USA Today
29-01-2025
- Health
- USA Today
'Just crushed': Former Fayetteville VA employee testifies to Congress about son's death
'Just crushed': Former Fayetteville VA employee testifies to Congress about son's death The Raeford mother of a Navy veteran who took his own life while waiting for mental health care from Veteran's Affairs testified before Congress last week about how she thinks the VA failed her son. Logan F. Willis served in the United States Navy from August 2017 until December 2018, his mother, Lori Locklear, told the House Veterans Affairs Committee on Wednesday during an oversight hearing on veterans' community healthcare. Locklear, a former 12-year employee of the VA, said her son's father was an Army veteran, and her son spent his summers volunteering at the VA. After Willis graduated from high school in 2014 and the University of North Carolina at Pembroke in 2016, he enlisted in the Navy to further his education, his mother said. Locklear said her son's first duty station was in Sasebo, Japan aboard the USS Wasp. 'It was during that time that Logan's mental health began to decline,' she told the committee. Suicide Willis attempted suicide several times while in Japan and later in San Diego until he received an honorable discharge on Dec. 31, 2018, Locklear said. She said she didn't understand why the military didn't provide mental health assistance immediately after his discharge. During the next few years, Locklear said, she saw her son struggle and distrust the VA. In the fall of 2019, he worked through his depression and anxiety to attend a master's degree program at Wake Forest University, she said. But he became more isolated during the COVID-19 pandemic when his classes shifted online, she said. In May 2022, Willis earned his master's degree in divinity and moved back home but was unable to find a job. 'As his mother, I encouraged him to seek the services he was eligible for, but once again he was skeptical,' Locklear said. Locklear, who worked in the Fayetteville VA's pharmacy, was concerned that her son's healthcare provider was overprescribing him medications, and in September 2022, she encouraged him to talk to the VA's pharmacist. Locklear said that after Logan spoke to the pharmacist, she told him to check in with the VA and request a mental health provider. But the soonest appointment was five months out. By then it would be too late. On Nov. 4, 2022, Willis killed himself in his family home. It had been 63 days since he'd scheduled the appointment with Veteran's Affairs. He was 27 years old. Would community care access have made a difference? During Wednesday's hearing, committee chairman, Rep. Mike Bost, R-Illinois, asked Locklear if she thought access to community care would have made a difference for her son. The VA provides care to veterans through community providers when it cannot provide the care needed. Locklear said that after his death, she found bank statements that showed he paid more than $800 in two months for private mental health care. She said he also spent $288 for his mental health medications. 'My son was going into a hole trying to take care of his mental health,' she said. Rep. Abraham Hamadeh, R-Arizona, an Army veteran, said that the bipartisan Mission Act signed into law by President Donald Trump in 2018 puts veterans in charge of their healthcare decisions. 'Yet, today, we're seeing bureaucratic roadblocks that prevent veterans from accessing timely care … The VA system should work for the veteran not the other way around,' Hamadeh said. He asked Locklear if veterans should have the right to immediately seek mental health care from any qualified provider and also asked if Willis' outcome might have been different if he had that same access. Locklear agreed that veterans should have immediate access, but said that in her son's case, he attempted to find a private provider because he didn't trust the VA. 'Unfortunately for Logan, I think he got a provider that just continued to prescribe him medications and he was so desperate to get better, to honestly get better, and so I think she was over-medicating him,' she said. Locklear said that by the time the VA approved Willis for community care, it was two days before his death, and no one called him in time to let him know he had that option. Locklear said she didn't know why it took 60 days for someone to look at her son's medical charts to realize his prior suicide attempts and depression. Mother blames VA in Fayetteville veteran's death: 'Look at what they've done to Logan' Are waits continuing? Congressman Mark Harris, Locklear's representative, was recognized to speak at Wednesday's hearing and said that he hopes Locklear's testimony prevents future veterans and their families from experiencing the same thing. Harris said that while Logan was given a five-month wait between his initial request for a mental health appointment and a date, the law says the wait should be no longer than 20 days before a referral is made for community care. Harris said that in his review Tuesday of the Fayetteville VA Medical Center's waitlist, he learned there is a 60-day wait time for new patients to get access to individual mental health care. 'I'm concerned about what you went through, and I just want you to have an opportunity to really help us understand how this experience has affected you mentally and what this had led to in your own life,' Harris told Locklear. How mother's own mental health has suffered Locklear said that she believed in the VA system and loves veterans, but to see her veteran son fall through the cracks has taken a toll on her. She said that the week before Willis died, she thought he was doing better. 'Then that Friday when we found him, I was just crushed,' she said. Locklear said she received support from the pharmacy department, but she knew she needed to report the suicide. She said a VA official she first spoke to seemed interested in wanting to know what happened and how to fix things until they learned the veteran was her son. She said she felt like she was treated like a whistleblower. 'I kept waiting for someone to call me and say, 'Can we talk to you? How can we fix this? What happened?' All the while, I was trying to work and still trying to figure out – I didn't understand what was going on,' Locklear said. 'I knew my child was gone.' Locklear said that she finally contacted the Fayetteville VA director who told her she was unaware of Logan's death and told Locklear she would follow up. Locklear said she didn't hear back, and her work performance continued to fail. 'I felt like the VA had caused my child's death, and it made me feel like I contributed because I was part of the VA,' she said. Locklear said that after exhausting her paid time off, she had to take an early retirement. 'When my child died I went in and just said, 'Can you help me? Just explain to me what happened to him.' And they acted like they didn't see me,' she said. 'Now I feel like I'm disabled. I still don't function well.' Staff writer Rachael Riley can be reached at rriley@ or 910-486-3528.
