My mother and I have never had a wonderful relationship. I am the only child of an unhappy marriage. After the divorce, mom ended up with me, mostly because back in the day, fathers never got custody of children. When I was almost 12, rather than dealing with me directly, mom changed the locks on the house to tell me that it was time for me to go. In my teenage years, she and I would go for years without speaking. Since the divorce, she has lived alone, but very often with dozens of animals. No kidding, dozens. My mother is a very smart lady. She was one of the first women to graduate from Purdue with a degree in Economics. From there, she had some pretty high profile positions at a time when most women were housewives. She is very verbal and smart as a whip, even into her 70s. The last time I was actually in her house was around the year 2000 for Thanksgiving. Things looked OK then. But slowly, news of this and that would filter to me. One time, I got her to admit to me that she had more than 35 cats and 6 dogs. Another time, she admitted to me that she was taking the carpet out of her house strip by strip, so that she was living on a naked concrete slab. When she was bringing over all of her laundry, and it consisted mostly of stinking-filthy blankets, towels, sheets, and comforters, she then admitted to me that her washing machine was broken. When she broke my washing machine, I wanted to buy her one with my money, but she refused, telling me that she would dis-inherit me if I persisted. About 10 years ago, she told me that her HVAC was broken. When I wanted to hire somebody with my money to fix the unit, she downright refused, again telling me that if I were to bring in somebody she would dis-inherit me. She insisted that she was fine using space heaters and fans. We live in the suburbs of a large city in the southeast United States, and it gets both hot and humid here. Regular daytime temperatures during the summer often exceed 100F. But she insisted that she was fine with the arrangement and would threaten to stop talking to me if I violated her wishes. Her neighbors were not too happy with the arrangement, let me tell you. As you can imagine, her cats were all over the neighborhood, crapping and peeing in the neighbors’ yards. She was a member of an animal rescue organization, so there were always animals coming through. She often adopted animals out, but would keep the sickest and the most feral for herself. Her neighbors would regularly call in a combination of Animal Control or Code Enforcement, and this would lead her to stash cats in their carriers at other peoples’ houses for a week or two. But mostly, and I say this to underscore her verbal persuasive abilities, she was able to talk her way out of any ticket, summons, or clean-up order. One neighbor took to trapping her cats and taking them to the pound. The other neighbor was shooting her cats with a rifle.
One time about 15 years ago, I was listening to the news on the way to work in the morning, and I heard that a lady near my house was busted for having 130 cats in her house, most of them dead. I said a silent prayer, asking that it not be my mother. This was a big fear of mine, but I would make light of the situation, telling her that one day, I would get a call from the authorities telling me that she had been found dead and mostly eaten by cats. She would chuckle. I would never go to her house, rather we would meet out for dinner about once a month. But each time, she would smell like a cat litter box, or worse. My son started calling her “stinky grandma.” I would let her know that maybe her nose wasn’t working well, or that she had become used to the smell, but that her smell was disturbing to other people. A couple of years back, she was diagnosed with cancer. It was treatable, and she had a chemo port put in and went to treatments daily. One day, she called me and after some prompting, she admitted that she had fallen and couldn’t get up. So, I drove over, and while I had my suspicions, I was not prepared for what I found. Her door was unlocked, but would only open about a foot because of stuff piled up on the floor. The stench of urine and feces and ammonia was unbelievable. There were no lights on, just light filtering through the filthy windows, so I knew that I was stepping on something, but I wasn’t sure what. Then, I realized that I was slipping as I walked, slipping on inches of animal excrement. As my eyes adjusted, I realized what must have happened is that after she took the carpeting up, she put down a layer of paper with the idea of taking it up and replacing it when it became soiled. Well, eventually, she stopped taking it up and simply put down a new layer of paper, which then got covered with excrement, and another layer of paper. It was, quite literally, a shit lasagna. Add to that mess, soiled bedding, towels, blankets, and clothing. I then knew how the stuff that she broke both her washing machine and my washing machine with was soiled so badly. There was even hay (??) strewn here and there. At the ceiling level, I noticed dark curtains and thought that was weird, but as I got closer, I realized that this was years of black gossamer cobwebs dotted with dark gems of glimmering trapped insects. These cobwebs were draped from every wall-to-ceiling joint, and because my mother is a couple of inches shorter than I am, these were brushing up against my hair. Every piece of furniture was covered in excrement, either piled on top or dripping down the sides. In what was the master bedroom, there was her box spring on the bed frame, but no mattress (??). On top of the box spring, there were small, distinct piles of turds, about 20 in all. At one point, I remembered that this was a light blue mattress set, but it was now stained khaki and brown. I found mom naked on the floor, lying with dirty blankets and excrement. She explained that she had been walking to the shower and slipped. I could imagine that to be true, because I was slipping with each step. It took me about 45 minutes to get her back into bed. She had only two dogs at this point, but they were both grossly overweight and virtually without hair on their fat bodies, with just a bit of hair on their legs and heads. Over in the corner of the bedroom, up against the wall, was a 4-foot-tall pile of used paper towels, I presume with excrement. She asked me to sit in the excrement-covered chair next to the bed, but I said no thanks. Her bed had no sheets and was also stained a deep brown in places. I told her then that this situation was not sustainable: this simply could not go on. I left quickly. I have no memory of driving home. We have a mutual friend who is a former social worker (MSW), so I called her to explain what I saw and ask for advice. She has known both mom and I for over 20 years, and when as I was explaining what I had seen, she was non-committal as if she didn’t quite believe what I was saying. Going forward, I found this to be the case: unless they could actually see and experience the dirty hoard and deplorable conditions, they couldn’t quite get their minds around what I was trying to tell them. Multiple times, mom insisted that she would stop talking to me, dis-inherit me if I even attempted to replace her washing machine or fix her HVAC. What more could she do to me if I dropped a dime on her? In the end, I called my county’s Adult Protective Services to submit a Self Neglect report. The caseworker was quite nice, and listened to me and my descriptions, but in the end, she told me that “if your mother wants to live like an animal, she is allowed to do that.” I pointed out to her that Animal Control wouldn’t allow the animals to live in this filth, but a person is OK? She said yes. As part of her investigation, she also called mom, and I’m sure that she came away thinking that there was nothing wrong with mom’s living situation, that I was being the crazy one. After the APS call, mom called me, and not knowing that I had reported her, she tried to formulate a plan with me to get her out of this mess, like she had previously by stashing cats, etc. I fessed up – I told her that I was the one who turned her in, and that I was willing to help her clean the house. I told her then that her house was killing her and that I would bring in a Hazmat team to clean. She refused, and then she refused to speak to me for two years. And I have to admit, it was almost blissful not to have to worry about her. Fast forward a couple of years, I get a call and she has checked herself into the hospital because she was having a hard time breathing. She admits to me the following: (1) lightning has struck her house, so now her house has no electricity whatsoever, (2) the green PVC water main coming into the house from the street has ruptured, so now the house has no water, (3) her gas stove has had pipes deteriorate and has had a couple of fires, so the gas company has now shut off her service altogether. Add this to the pre-existing (4) HVAC doesn’t work, and the (5) washer/dryer don’t work. So, essentially, she is camping in her own home. During the recent cold snap, the temperatures in her house were down around 30F. She is diagnosed with COPD, and she tells the hospital staff that she may have “mold issues” in her house. While she is in the hospital, she has talked another kind-hearted cat lady into going into her house to feed the animals. God help her. This cat lady has also dealt with her mother’s mold problem, so she had a contact that specialized in mold and biohazard remediation. She brings this guy in to take a look and formulate a proposal. He does the walk-thru and speaks to mom. Afterwards, I get his phone number and give him a call to get the story before it goes thru the mom-filter. Long story short, the house needs to be scraped out, the furniture thrown away, the cabinets thrown away, and potentially the wall board torn out 3 feet up from the bottom of the wall. He says that this is the filthiest hoard that he’s seen, and it is worse than a dead body cleanup because a body is centralized, whereas this is spread out and complicated. The cost is estimated to be $10K, but could go higher if they discover anything else during the cleanout. She asks him what would happen if she doesn’t clean it out, and he tells her that the county will eventually find out and will bulldoze the house. She asks how much she could get for it if she sold it without cleaning it out, and he says maybe $20K, but that he’s not a real estate guy. When I speak to her, she tells me that the guy had offered her $20k for the house, and that he plans on cleaning it out himself and selling it for vast profit. She won’t even consider hiring this guy, anyway, because she has no money. From the hospital, she is admitted to a rehab place to recuperate and use her oxygen machine. From the rehab place, she moves to a local assisted-living, and from there to a long-term apartment. All of these places are wicked-expensive (especially for somebody who has spent every last dime on vet care for feral animals). I investigate sliding-scale elderly apartments (there are some), and the waiting list is 14+ months. I am urging her to put her name on their list, but she says that she wants a small house in the metro area so that she can have animals… but on the cheap because she has no money. Yeah, wouldn’t we all like that?
She says that she will clean out the house and sell it. One of her cat lady friends has a real estate license, and I’m betting that this lady hasn’t been in her house, because she is telling mom that “most real estate investors will take houses with furniture in them.” I suggest to mom that she scrape out the excrement and remove the furniture for a top dollar price. Mom is now insisting that mold is her problem, not excrement. I just hope that she figures this out before the county catches up with her. What have I learned: 1. I have learned that hoarding is an obsessive-compulsive way of dealing with emotions that otherwise wouldn’t be dealt with. 2. Hoarding will rob a person of everything they hold dear, be it money, family, animals, or material possessions.
3. Feral cats are just that – feral cats – and no amount of love will keep them from destroying your property. 4. People who haven’t seen such a dirty hoard will not believe it until they see it for themselves. Even professionals who have been trained to deal with this. They will think that you are exaggerating, attention-seeking, or using the system to punish a family member. 5. Depending upon the state, governmental agencies who were designed to help the elderly will not help. This was a big surprise to me, because after speaking to our mutual MSW friend, I thought for sure they could offer some help. But no, my MSW friend was from New York State, where they would actually do something. We currently live in a red state, and they will not get involved with something like this, especially if the elderly person sounds even somewhat coherent. 6. I have learned the protocols of HazMat cleanup. And I must say, these guys really earn their money. 7. I have learned that a “wet hoard” will literally destroy everything in the house. The moisture seeps up sheetrock and wooden studs and carries bacteria and mold that will rot out the structure like a rotten log. If there is ammonia (urine) in the hoard, that will eat through metal items such as refrigerators, stoves, and natural gas and water lines. 8. A wet-hoard house can be dangerous in many ways: bacteria, mold, caustic chemicals, structurally, leaks, and explosions. A person cannot live in an environment like this for very long without becoming seriously ill.
And so what now? I am still working with her to get her house cleaned out, but she just recently told one of my friends who I sent over there to help that she would have him arrested if we bring in a large trash-skip. Later, my friend and I spoke and I told him that he didn't have to go back there. The neighbors have called the county health department on her now, and the gig is almost up. But, we'll have to see. I have spoken to our MSW friend, and she says to let things happen as they will because these are the natural consequences of her actions. God help us all.
Submitted July 10, 2016 at 02:15AM by what_the_sam_hill http://ift.tt/29zbkQ9 hoarding
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