John Stephens, a Marine serving near Fallujah, Iraq, was exercising in camp when a mortar landed about 125 feet from him. The blast threw him to the ground but he immediately got back up, thinking he was fine.

But he wasn’t.

He remained on active duty for two more years, even though he began to notice symptoms of fatigue, memory and concentration problems and other emotional and psychological changes just a few weeks after the mortar blast.

Eventually he was told he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, was given counseling and some anti-depressants, and was told to “get over it.”

But he didn’t.

He returned home a changed man; someone who had been social and active in his church was now someone who isolated himself, spoke very little and flew into fits of uncontrollable rage.

The force from the mortar’s impact had left him with a traumatic brain injury, but it took him years to find that out. And though many of his symptoms were like those of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the treatment he needed was far different.

An estimated 75,000 veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan suffer from varying degrees of brain injury, but many are misdiagnosed with PTSD and return home with little or no follow-up treatment.  Between 5,000 and 6,000 of them have brain injuries that are classified as moderate to severe.

 A group of veterans and their families recently participated in the first “Survive and Thrive Veterans and Families Camp” at the Alisal Guest Ranch in Solvang. The event was sponsored by Casa Colina Centers for Rehabilitation in Pomona.

Stephens and his family — wife Nikki and their children, Luna, 9, Noah, 7, and Seylah, 3 — were among those attending the five-day camp.

 People with traumatic brain injury have been a special focus of Casa Colina’s continuum of care, which has been developed for the general public for more than

30 years.

Its new Survive and Thrive Veterans and Families Camp helps returning service members and families readjust to each other and society.

Thirteen families from all over the country participated in educational and therapeutic sessions at the local camp, learning about brain injuries and how these injuries affect them in their daily lives. They also learned new ways of coping with their injuries, increased their family support skills, and developed new ways to communicate and thrive at home.

Meanwhile, they also enjoyed the outdoors and camaraderie, gaining new insight and life skills under the guidance of Casa Colina’s physicians, neuropsychologists and therapists who led exercises and discussions designed to help learning, adapting and looking at the future with a new view.

“So often a person suffering from brain injury ends up on the street. Families are broken, children grow up without fathers or mothers, lives are shattered,” said Fred Aronow, director of Casa Colina Foundation. “The programs at Casa Colina give people the tools they need to help themselves heal. We can’t do it for them — they have to do it themselves. But we are there for them, ready to support them through the healing process.”

Stephens’ case is an illuminating example of one brain-injured veteran’s confusing, harrowing journey back to health — and he’s not all the way back yet.

Upon discharge he returned home and his symptoms began to severely worsen, resulting in bouts of anger, rage, depression, anxiety, isolation, lack of motivation and hyper-alertness.

“You begin to feel like you are crazy and very alone,” he said.

He was hospitalized in the Loma Linda VA hospital, which he said gave him “no help at all.”

“Because the MRI didn’t show any recent injury they kept telling me I was fine. They again diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress syndrome and sent me on my way, with basically the same anti-depressants I had been taking before, but they offered me no real help,” Stephens said.

His wife, Nikki, said the man who came home was different from the man who went to fight in Iraq. There were dramatic personality changes that got more severe as time passed.

“He would sometimes only say 15 to 20 words a day to me — that was a typical day’s worth of conversation, and that went on for a long time. He would sit in his bedroom all day long. He had no friends — actually he couldn’t stand people, he didn’t like people. This was a man who used to be very involved in his church, someone who loved life and his family and friends.”

They moved to Temecula, thinking a change would do them good, but making new friends is not easy for someone with a serious brain injury.

“Socializing was not an easy thing to do in our family, not with my husband in this condition,” she said. “Even going to Target was not fun. Anything could trigger his anger and he would explode instantly. You just never knew when it was coming or what would trigger it.”

“Sometimes I could feel the anger coming on,” Stephens said, “and other times it was just an instantaneous explosion. I thought I was going crazy.”

In July, his anger erupted into an uncontrollable fit of rage. Again he was hospitalized at the VA Hospital in Loma Linda and diagnosed with PTSD.

Not satisfied, he went to the VA hospital in La Jolla, where he was diagnosed with traumatic brain injury and put on medication. He also was told about Casa Colina at the San Marcos Veterans Center, called them, did an interview over the phone, and within two weeks was accepted into their program.

He feels he is now on the road to recovery — he now understands what traumatic brain injury is all about and feels he has the resources to make improvements.

“The program at Casa Colina has most definitely helped me tremendously. I don’t feel as isolated as before,” said Stephens. “I feel extremely relieved. It’s comforting to realize that I’m not crazy. I now know this injury is not only physical, it’s organic, it’s chemical, it’s cognitive.

“I understand that I’ve seen the darkest side of life, and coping with that can be very difficult on your own. I learned more about myself the first day I was there than I have in the last five years. I’ve learned about my injury right down to the molecular level.

“We are in the hands of the very best doctors there. They have the top experts in the field and the meetings are great, exciting, relieving — it gives me hope that there is a life for me at the end of the tunnel. I still don’t feel it, but I see it’s there,” Stephens said.

Inspired and excited at finally finding the right diagnosis, Stephens now wants to be an example to other veterans, to let them know it’s OK to get help.

“As Marines, we are led to believe that, no matter what, we are OK, that we don’t need help. I want other vets to know that it’s OK to get help, it’s OK to let your guard down and let people help you.

“When you’re in this condition you feel like you can’t trust anyone,” said Stephens. “But you can’t deal with something like this on your own. Help is out there, and it’s OK to ask for it.”

Nikki Stephens has noticed great changes in her husband, and she credits Casa Colina and its program with providing the help the family needed.

“This week together has made a huge difference for us,” she said at the end of the camp in Solvang. “The children could play freely, go swimming, ride horses, and we had time just to be together in this beautiful place.”

“This week has been just terrific,” he husband added. “Where else can you spend a day with doctors who can answer your questions? It’s liberating and empowering to be proactive with your own health.

“Ask questions,” he advises others. “Don’t let the doctors tell you you’re fine when you know you’re not and then ship you out the door with no answers, and no real help,” he said. “I am very grateful for Casa Colina. They have offered me a new chance at life.”

For more information on Casa Colina, call (909) 596-7733 or (800) 926-5462, Ext. 4100.