Eviction/Cleaning Update

The inspector came when my ten days were up and since he saw signs of progress being made, gave me an extension.  

 

According to him, the information I received from the police about the reasons why the place was condemned was inaccurate.  He saw a small amount of clean kitty litter on the floor, and a small amount of newspapers on the bed, not the months and months of knee-high junk that the cop was ranting at me about.   

 

The inspector's version was that he was primarily concerned about the things in the walkway that would impede my exit in case of fire: boxes and bags of groceries in the main hallway (some of which were placed there by the person who called the cops, because she didn't want to carry them all the way to the kitchen), piles of laundry near the back door (because she had blocked my access to the closet and dresser with boxes that I couldn't move), and in the bedroom hallway, a box with a shelf which her husband had agreed to assemble, and never did.  I didn't feel well enough to assemble it, or to carry it to the basement, so I pushed it toward the guest bedroom to get it out of the dining room.  Boxes that she and other cleaners had stacked in the guest room blocked getting out the windows in case of fire; I had asked that the boxes be moved and they never were.  I've been cleaning a lot of things that I had specifically asked her to deal with last summer when she had promised to thoroughly clean the house in exchange for free room and board.  Sooooo, her claims that she's completely innocent, had nothing to do with the current condition of the house are wrong -- she contributed substantially to the reasons why the inspector had issues with the house.  

 

At any rate, the inspector noted a few new items on his last visit: the crockpot, which hadn't fit in the last load of dishes I did before I was evicted, took up a large area of the kitchen countertop.  Countertops, by law, must be cleared off so they are usable for food preparation. 

 

I keep a number of items on the counters, by doctor's orders, so that I don't have to reach above shoulder level to put them in and out of the cupboard.  He didn't care about doctor's orders: rules are rules, and those things have to go back into the cupboards where the law says they belong.   Similarly, I keep the canned goods on the kitchen floor so I don't have to reach up into the cupboards for them.  That was also unacceptable to the inspector. 

 

Putting everything away to appease him so that I can pass inspection to move back into the house has resulted in repeated dislocations of my bad shoulder and a lecture from the doctor that "you know better".  I do, but the inspector doesn't, and at this point,  I need to play by his rules.  

 

In trying to get the house clean, without help from the maid who said she wanted the job and then didn't show up, I have totally exhausted myself and had to spend half of this week in bed instead of making progress with the cleaning.   

 

A Real Friend would've been over here cleaning with me, and worrying about me making myself sick enough to land in the hospital with the overexertion; instead, I'm supposed to accept "oops, my bad" as enough to make things right between us and not expect any help or concern about the turmoil she created. 

 

Once again, it becomes apparent that I have been screwed by someone I extended generosity to.  Some thanks for 2 1/2 months of free room and board!  And this time from someone who prides herself on being a good Christian and claims to have love for me.  Funny, how that "love" ends as soon as she's asked to reciprocate the huge favor I did her last year.

Following instructions to put things where the inspector wants them, instead of where my own health requires them to be, I ended up dislocating a shoulder.  Which is precisely why I keep things within easy reach on the counters and floor instead of in the cupboard where I have to reach up to get them.  However, the inspector's lecture was "rules are rules" and those rules require the countertops and floor to be clear, not used for storage. 
Doctor's orders that I should not reach overhead for any reason, or stand on chairs/ladders for any reason, don't matter. Only the "rules" that say that normal, healthy people store things up in the cupboards and either reach up or stand on a chair to get them.

Announcing our new website, CFSFacts.org!

Design talent and server donated by Minuet.

Update

To answer those who are wondering, no, the cleaning is not going well.  I have been testifying under oath for years that I can manage 4-6 square feet a day (that's about half a square meter), and no one believes me.  Well, here's the proof: I have been cleaning every day for over a week, and I still have not managed to finish even one room.  Not because the room is that big a disaster, but because I really cannot manage more than 4-6 square feet of cleaning before I'm wiped out and in pain.  There have been some days this week that, because I haven't wanted to take a day off, I've gotten to the house from the motel, and accomplished even less because I started the day so exhausted.

A friend who used to be a social worker and therefore knew the right questions to ask called Social Services and got the same answers that I did: I'm not eligible for a government-paid housekeeper because there's always some criteria that I can't meet.  No one has yet declared me officially disabled seems to be the big stumbling block.

Another friend contacted several churches, but not a one of these fine Christian organizations was interested in doing an act of charity for someone who's not a member.  She was kinda surprised; I was not.  Again, the same response I got whenever I tried to get either some charity or even offered to hire some church member who needed a little extra cash.

Contrary to popular belief, I *have* occasionally pulled together the cash to get agency cleaners in, and they've generally made the situation worse, by putting a box of stuff that I need to sort where it blocks a door or drawer.  Not only can I not carry it from there over to the couch, but now I can't use the storage behind it.  Then there was the gal who spent four hours puttering in an already clean kitchen, and I don't know what she did, only that she did NOT clean the oven which I had paid extra for.  The last one spent three or four hours cleaning the fridge.  She assured me that she had taken everything out and only put back the good stuff, which I don't believe, since the next day I pulled out a package of dinner rolls that were totally green.  Again, since I am physically unable to stand over someone for four hours, I have to trust them that they are actually working hard, and not goofing off. 

And let's not even talk about the hidden costs of the independent cleaner who couldn't tell the difference between an unpaid bill and an old newspaper.  The cleaning was fairly inexpensive, it was the hundreds of dollars of late fees on bills that apparently went in the trash that was the problem.

I've finally gotten my financial situation on an even keel to where I *can* afford a cleaner once a month, maybe twice, but most of the cleaners I've contacted, when they hear that *I* intend to do the light dusting, I'm looking to hire someone to do the heavy work that I can't manage, they're not interested.  The only one who was willing to do what I needed, was not available on the day before trash day; her only available day was the day *after* trash day, when any food she'd clean out of the fridge would have a whole week to attract vermin.  That wasn't acceptable to me.

Evicted for Being Sick

Article posted online by Lara about my current problems:

 

'CFS sufferer evicted from her own home for being too ill to do housework'.

Karen C, a sufferer of the debilitating neurological illness: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome(CFS) has been forced to leave her home to stay in a motel at her own expense while the local authorities arrange for her house to be cleaned.

CFS (also known as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis or ME) causes a range of symptoms including physical and mental exhaustion, flu like symptoms, post-exertional muscle fatigue, migraines, insomnia and gastro-intestinal disturbances. Although not fully understood it is thought it could be caused by viral or chemical exposure.   In Karen's case, it began with a severe virus and 105 degree fever in 1987; it is thought to have become chronic because because, as a diligent and responsible employee, she forced herself back to work before she was fully recovered in order to deal with work she knew was piling up on her desk..  In early 2000, she was again dragging herself to work sick, and was eventually fired due to inability to do the work to her employer's satisfaction.

Karen lives on her own and is so severely affected by her illness that she is physically unable to carry out more than a few minutes household activities each day. What energy she does have she uses for basic survival e.g. feeding herself and personal care. Even so, the state will not grant her disability status or payments and as such she cannot afford to employ a cleaner or other home help.

Police were called to Karen's house on Friday morning after a friend panicked when she could not contact her. In fact Karen was attending a doctor's appointment, but when police could not get an answer at the property they called a fireman who broke a window to gain access.

That morning, before Karen had left to go to the doctor her cat had chosen an inopportune time to be sick in the house. She was running late and did not have time to clean up before leaving. Her cats have also found the new trick of tipping their litter box while she is out.  Although most of the kitty litter was clearly new and unused, there were some feces which spilled on the floor, leading the casual viewer to the conclusion that she regularly allows feces to remain on the floor for long periods of time, despite the vacuum cleaner's position nearby indicating that it had recently been used to clean just that spot.  On seeing the mess, the Police called in the Board of Health, who subsequently posted the property as unfit for human habitation.

When Karen was finally allowed into the house to gather up a few belongings and her medications, she noticed that the police and firemen trooping through the house had knocked newly-washed laundry off a chair and tromped it through the cat's vomit, requiring her to waste her precious limited energies to rewash the laundry.  They had also knocked a book out of a box, and gotten that into the mess as well, requiring the book to be thrown away.

It was also commented on that there were flies around her outdoor trash bin.  Despite the fact that Karen had hygenically disposed of food scraps in the outdoor bin rather than luring the flies indoors to the kitchen bin, she was criticized for having bugs on the trash, leaving her utterly puzzled as to how they would recommend she dispose of spoiled food in an old-fashioned kitchen without an in-sink disposal.

Rather than being provided with alternative housing and assistance in obtaining much needed housekeeping services she has been begging for over the past five years, Karen has yet again been forced to fend for herself. She is now faced with the Hobson's Choice of whether to land in hospital by pushing beyond her physical limits to try to clean as much as possible herself, or to allow the city to send a bill she cannot pay, for a cleaning crew which might not differentiate between her critical legal papers and junk mail. 

The friend whose unwarranted phone call to police (just moments after her first failed attempt to reach Karen) set the unfortunate chain of events into motion inexplicably denies any wrongdoing and refuses to help at all with either the cleaning or the massive expenses Karen is incurring, saying that Karen alone -- and not all the people who have been asked for help and refused -- is responsible for both the condition the house is in and returning it to good order.Karen has for now had to check into a motel while the house is cleaned and she won't be allowed to return until she has the property re-inspected. This will not be before Tuesday at the earliest due to the Labor Day Weekend, and she expects the cost of her stay at the motel to run to some $300.

That a disabled person could be placed in this situation may seem unbelievable however, as a CFS sufferer, Karen is far from unique. CFS is a condition, which often affects sufferers so severely that life becomes a battle for survival. As the disease, does not show up on routine blood tests and is difficult to diagnose it is often dismissed by doctors as simply 'all in the patient's head'. Without supporting medical evidence it then becomes very difficult for sufferers to obtain disability or private insurance payments, leaving them fully dependent on friends and family for financial and social support.

In fact, earlier this year, Karen had a result the doctor's office called "off the charts" on a C Reactive Protein test -- CRP indicates infection, inflammation and heart disease -- yet a few months later, her application for disability benefits was again denied despite objective proof that something is very very wrong physically. As it stands, until government and disability departments get their houses in order as far as CFS goes, Karen can be sure that hers will remain in a mess.