Disaboom whiskeyman1130 Blog

Why Can't The Disabled Be Homeless?

whiskeyman1130 — Sun, 04 May 2008 21:15:00 GMT

Being that my sister asked me to find an alternate means of housing; I came to terms with the fact that I would have to go into a nursing home until I can get back up on my feet (no pun intended). At the same time, I believe that I am following in the steps of the Lord. Therefore, here is a simple summary of how I have tried to hold onto as much of my pride and dignity possible, while surrendering myself to the state of Virginia: Thursday, May 1, was my given date to evacuate the premises and so, this was my mission and focus. Throughout my disability, I have lived with the mind set of a survivalist and so I left here with no intentions whatsoever of returning. I asked for all of the critical medical supplies that I would need to start my new life wherever I ended up at the day's end. I went to Social Services and surrendered all of my freedoms. When I was at the help desk, I was firm and direct about the fact that I was now homeless. However, this left the help desk worker a little puzzled, but she directed me where to go and wait for my name to be called. The system is not setup and designed for homeless citizens with disabilities that require assistance. I started with one worker who specialized with the homeless and she offered to put me up in a hotel, until I reminded her of my personal needs that I require assistance with. Now realizing this, I was sent up stairs to Adult Protective Services. I was adamant with this worker as well that I was homeless. I honestly believe that I was the first quadriplegic ever to present this dilemma to these people. Behind the scenes, this seemed to be a group discussion on what to do with me. All that I am sure of is I was working the system for shelter and they were confused as to how I could be helped. If you do not know how to fight for your rights, dignity, livelihood, etc., than I doubt you understand why I crashed the doors and planned an unexpected assault on these social workers. If I had not gone to such extreme measures, I would only be placed on a long waiting list and every thing that I need help with would be drawn out over a very long, lengthy time. I am not stupid and this is not my first dance. I have played by the rules of the system and time after time my needs went unmet and I have fallen through the cracks only to be forgotten. When it comes to a nursing home, I am not doing this. I refuse to fall through the cracks and I also refuse to my forgotten. I do not want to become a distant memory, nor do I want to suffer the neglect and abuse in a nursing home that you hear about all the time on the news. Due to my extreme measures, the system was being worked and in things was in motion. My worker presented me with several options. She informed that a shelter was not an option for me, because they are not set up to assist people with personal needs. I informed her that this is a case of discriminating against the disabled by not having any accommodations to meet our personal needs. To which she replied, “Shelters are provided and run by private groups or organizations.” I could only respond by saying, “Touché,” because that was check mate! Non-profit groups or organizations are exempted from the A.D.A and Civil Rights laws. Although I was looking for better alternatives, I had already told them I would accept placement in a nursing home, because I knew all of my needs could be met in one of these institutions. The next problem that I was presented was in order to get Long-Term Care placement, I would have to go through a formal screening and see if my needs qualify me for placement in a nursing home. Can you see how this has come full circled? In order to get shelter I need to go into a nursing home, but in order to do so I need to prove this is what I physically need and so on. In order to be screened and receive shelter however, I would have to be placed on a waiting list and this was presently longer than a month. I remind you my situation is need of immediate actions just like everyone else that walks in from off the streets, but my circumstances do not allow me the same prompt and courteous results. However, the worker felt that she and her supervisor could get this screening process expedited and shortened to two weeks based on my situation. She then asked if there was any chance my family would take me back in on a short time bases. I might be down on my luck, but I refused to compromise my character. I was honest in my answer and informed her that my sister told me that if it came down to a shelter, for me to come back here. The worker asked me who should call and make these arrangements. I was not willing to surrender and given in on what I had started, so I refused to make this call. I was not willing to ask my sister for more time or shelter in a place where I already know that I am not wanted. I just knew that I would regret surrendering the information about what my sister said about shelters. However, it was now too late and the worker already knew she had the prerogative to make this call. In addition, I knew as well as this worker, if my sister agreed to my return that this would be letting the state off the hook. This would free them from being responsible for my well being and place it back on my family. At the same time, I had to go speak to a Medicaid worker about my existing medical bills and what would happen to them after my placement. Once I am placed in a home by law I must surrender all of my Social Security check to the state, minus forty dollars that is meant for my living expenses. Regardless of the fact that I have outstanding bills and will be forfeiting my check to the state, I learned that I will still be responsible for my debts and I cannot get any help from the state in paying them. This lead me to the where I am now at the point of laughing uncontrollably. Nothing that I have heard all day long has made a bit of sense and this pushed me over the edge. I told the Medicaid worker that I wished so badly to have a film crew documenting my day’s experiences. I reminded this lady, that Social Services already offered me money for a hotel, but I could not believe that they could not help me with my bills Despite every response or rebuttal I made to what I heard on this day, the workers could only say that they were sorry that I was sorry. They said that I was chosen to continue splitting hairs on every attempt that they were offering through helping me. I am sorry, but was I supposed to be happy knowing that none of my basic needs for shelter was receiving the same help afforded to everyone else. The only thing that separated me from every other homeless person is that I need assistance with my personal needs. Why are the disabled not allowed to be homeless? If only society, the taxpayers, were really aware of how their money is or is not being used. If only they were really aware which group of people or populations needs is being ignored? Time and time again in my twenty four years of being disabled, I have been told by taxpayers that they would rather see proof that their taxes were helping the disabled instead of those who make a living off of welfare. If you place your focus strictly on my attempt to receive shelter on this day, you will conclude that I lost my battle to receive the same benefits as the rest of society. However, I know that this is only because I have physical needs and not based on my efforts. The plain and simple fact is that system is not designed for the well being of the disabled who may become homeless. I believe that Americans are too proud of a people to believe that this is even a possibility in our country. However, this is real and instead of recognizing the fact that even the disabled can face hard times and find themselves homeless, the government would rather place us in institution instead of creating and establishing the means to see that even the disabled homeless can get all of their needs met. This was a very long and draining day for me. I was very unhappy and tired, so I accepted being placed in check mate, my defeat, and surrendered my king. I come from a proud people, yet I recognized that I was defeated. At each point along the way, I showed them my respect and looked the Social workers in the eye and thanked them for their help or lack of it. I then exited the building with my head held up and went outside to reflect on my day, my defeat. However, I returned to my sister’s house only to be verbally abused and insulted. I received even more validation that I am not wanted here and that I really screwed up by mentioning her last words to me after I had her pack my bags. I lost this opportunity to escape all the hatred that I left behind and failed to receive the much needed help that Social Services provides to able bodied people on a daily basis.

Could You Use A Big Belly Busting Laugh?

whiskeyman1130 — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 22:55:00 GMT

I just had to write and ask you, "Did you happen to watch My Name Is Earl last night?" In my time of need, I laughed my ass off! The theme focused around people in wheelchairs. There was wheelchair fighting, where the guy lifts his leg using his arm and use the foot to stomp the hell out of his advisary! My God, it was hilarious. Here is the link to last nights episode titled "Murderball": http://www.nbc.com/My_Name_Is_Earl/video/episodes.shtml?apl=true

Rob

a.k.a. whiskeyman1130

Is This Disabled Housing Fair & Equal Treatment For All Who Have A Disability?

whiskeyman1130 — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 13:17:00 GMT

Well, bless the hearts of all who sit on council. And, this home is supposed to help who? How does a mentally disabled person get $2,000.00 a month for rent? Why do people with physical injuries have to go into nursing homes for the elderly? Do we not deserve housing like this? After all we have a better chance of employment that pays higher wages, therefore making rental payments more likely.

Virginia Beach council approves home for disabled

Posted to: News Virginia Beach

Questions or comments about this ad? Please click here!

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By Deirdre Fernandes
The Virginian-Pilot
© April 23, 2008

VIRGINIA BEACH

Despite neighborhood opposition, the City Council on Tuesday night approved the city's first privately funded home for mentally disabled adults.

The council, with little discussion, approved plans for Assisi House Inc. to build a home for eight adults on property next to Church of the Ascension off Princess Anne Road. The Catholic Diocese of Richmond donated the land.

Councilwoman Reba McClanan was the only dissenting vote. McClanan said that she supported the intent of the project but wished that the Assisi House board had done more to ease neighborhood concerns about the size and location of the building.

Advocates for the project argued that the Assisi House would fill a need in a city where 270 mentally disabled people are on a waiting list for federal and state money for housing.

The Assisi House would not rely on public money. Residents will have to pay an initial $6,000 fee and about $2,000 a month in rent to offset the cost of services such as 24-hour supervision and transportation.

Terry Jenkins, the retired former director of Virginia Beach's human services division, said elderly parents aren't always able to take care of their disabled children and need a place like the Assisi House.

"Adult children with mental retardation living with elderly parents in the city are living on proverbial thin ice," Jenkins said.

The project has also gained the support of former City Councilman Peter Schmidt, who has a daughter with Down syndrome, and Councilman Harry Diezel's wife, Ginny.

Some Kempsville residents asked Diezel to recuse himself from the vote even though it isn't legally a conflict of interest. The state's laws deal solely with whether an official has a financial interest in an issue.

"If it's a conflict, it's in your mind and I'm sorry," Diezel told opponents before voting on the project. He noted that the board had made improvements to the building plan, including additional landscaping.

While sympathetic to the group's goal, people who live next to the proposed site said the Assisi House will be twice the size of their homes and won't fit into the neighborhood. They had urged the group's board to build two homes or move the building closer to the church.

They also expressed frustration with the noise and traffic generated by some events at the church's hall.

"This request is another step to degrade our existing neighborhood," resident William Bailey said.

Deirdre Fernandes, (757) 222-5121, deirdre.fernandes@pilotonline.com

Unfortunately I’d have to agree

Submitted by William Bailey on Wed, 04/23/2008 at 7:29 am.

He basically called the residents liars when he brushed aside the noise, underage drinking, sexual activity and crime taking place at the Catholic Church parking lot calling it “unsubstantiated”. I can’t support him and I will not.

The residents were run over by the media, wealthy developers and liberal tree huggers in political effort to build a $200,000 a year income for the local church. I’m leaning toward throw the bums out and I know the Rosecroft Street folks are not going to support the current city council member’s run for re-election. I expected it to pass but I never expected the residents to be called bigots and liars by the council members, the media and church members. Why would you want to put your handicapped child (some in the 50’s) in a neighborhood with us when you say we are those things?

Disabled House

Submitted by budnbarb57 on Wed, 04/23/2008 at 7:14 am.

The bums on city council ignored the peoples desires. I think we should ignore them. "VOTE THE BUMS OUT" Who knows, someone may be better. What do we have to lose? Diezel agrees with everything across the council table....he is not the Fire Chief anymore.

Congratulations

Submitted by William Bailey on Wed, 04/23/2008 at 6:38 am.

Congratulations to the political machine that pushed this through over the objections of the residents. The council has spoken... I wish you luck. I think you'll need it.

THIS SUCKS!

whiskeyman1130 — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 22:40:00 GMT

Hi. Recently, I placed a blog post titled, "Stop The Ride.... I Want To Get Off." This was very therapuetic and cleared my head. I really thought the Lord and I were seeing eye to eye or on the same page. However, it must of been a hallucination because my life is spiraling farther and farther out of my control. Apparently my time has expired. Last night, I was officially informed that I need to seek new shelter. My sister said that she can no longer help me. She is instead trying to get custody of and raise her grand daughter. I am going to see if I can get help from the state and go into the rehabilitation center in Fishersville, VA. I don't know what awaits me up the road. I swore to myself that I would never live in a nursing home, but now it looks like I might have to. I'm not going without a fight though. This shit sucks!

Help me, Father, please!,

Rob

Looking For Advice About Colostomies

whiskeyman1130 — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 18:28:00 GMT

Recently I elected to receive a colostomy. I had some bad pressure soars on my buttocks and the doctors said that by having the colostomy, it would help the wounds heal and help preventing these wounds from breaking back down. At the sametime, I am a quadriplegic that had been dependent upon a bowel program for twenty-four years. The ostomy nurse had said that it would be a mistery as to how my colostomy would ffunction Now, I am a mess, mentally. Due to insurance, I went through my stay at the hospital and nursing home like a drive-thru window at Taco Bell. The type of colostomy that I received is a descending colostomy, which leaves me passing semi to formed stool. At least, this is what's supposed to happen. My doctor / surgeon has me taking peri-colace in the morning and Dulcolax (by mouth) tablets the night before my bowel is suppose to empty. This is one heck of a combination. My guts feel like someone is twisting them. I experience much abdominal discomfort right before the stool comes out. And, when it does come out it's basically all liquid or pasty, due to the effects of the laxatives. My family members have questioned me about my pain complaints and all that I can tell them is to try imagine pushing a baseball bat through a key hole and this is how I feel. Now, I've brought all my complaints to my doctor, but he says that we have to experiment until we find the best solution for how my colostomy will function. Plus, there is the change to my diet that is a problem. No one told me that I would have (particular) food restrictions before the surgery. Now, I can't even figure out what vegetables to eat. If you have a colostomy, you know what I'm saying. To wrap this up, I didn't get all the education about this that I needed before I was kicked out of the hospital. I have read many different websites on colostomies, but they are getting me even more confused. The different information tends to be condradicting. Did I mention that I'm a mess? I need help figuring out the best way to prepare for emptying my colostomy and how to establish the right type of diet that I can eat without causing complications. Anyone..... has anyone got any experience with my problems or suggestions.... Anyone?

STOP THIS RIDE..... I WANT TO GET OFF!!!

whiskeyman1130 — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 17:28:00 GMT

When old friends ask, “How have you been?” I have to think before I speak. My first thought is, “You want the truth, huh?” Then, I go with this approach, “Well, I've have had my ups and downs, as usual.” The truth is, clinically speaking; I am suffering from depression as a result of all the stuff that I have been through since October, 2006. All of these problems that I speak of caused me to make the hardest decision of my life. In the name of health or because I would now require help, I had to give up my independent life of twenty years. I decided to give up my apartment and move in with family. Now, throughout these twenty years and despite the odds due to my level of paralysis, I worked hard and had earned this privilege of living on my own. I had achieved independence over my disability and was living in high cotton. In hind site, I was truly happy back then, although financially I barely could make ends meet. However, my life as I knew it is done or erased, and all of my belongings was boxed up and thrown into a storage bin. Would you believe that I have only been living outside of a hospital or nursing home for seven months, since back in 2006? Now, all of my problems started with a cellulitis infection in my right elbow. Due to this infection, I had to undergo four surgeries to remove the infected tissue and permanently close it up. However, would you believe that I contracted the MRSA virus, between the third and fourth surgery? I sure did and this caused me to undergo a six week course of intravenous antibiotic therapy. I was laid up in a private hospital in Norfolk, which is referred to as an extended recovery hospital. I had no problem with this at the time. Hell, if I could be cared for, I’d stay at the Holiday Inn just to avoid being placed in a nursing home (even if it is temporary). When I received the co-payment bill from this private hospital for over $6,000.00 after Medicare paid their part, my jaw simply dropped to the floor. And so, my problems would continue. All of this time in the hospital and being bed bound softened up the tissue on my buttocks. At least, this was the next lesson that I had learned the hard way. I had just regained use of my arm and wanted so much for my life to once again be in my control. Unfortunately, I had totally disregarded the lessons that I had learned on skin maintenance long ago, when I was in the rehabilitation center after my accident. As a result of my selfishness in May, 2007, I had developed three decubitus ulcers on my butt. What in the world? Please God, tell me this is a joke, I beg of you! No, I really had three, stage four holes in the butt. Once again, I returned for another month long hospital stay. Due to the severity of my sores however, this time I had no choice but to be placed in a nursing home. I entered at the end of June and did not leave until the beginning of November. The reason I left is because I simply could not afford to be there. Well, I could if I turned over my entire Social Security income, minus forty dollars, as mandated by the state. Forty dollars is what a nursing home resident is allowed to keep for personal expenses. I had already made a commitment with my family to pay rent for the room and boarding at there house, but the state of Virginia did not care. I am a man of my word and even though my wounds were not healed I had to leave the nursing home, because forty dollars did not cover my rent. My family was not concerned with the money, but I had my pride to consider. I was now receiving nursing care in the home, until my next scare. In December, my wound specialist ordered me to have a MRI and the results of this test revealed that I had a possible bone infection. And, once again I returned back to the hospital in the beginning of January. However, during this stay I had two other forms of testing that determined my bone was not infected. Wow, this time I really got lucky. Throughout my disabled years however, I have seen people lose their limbs (even worst) and it all started with a decubitus ulcer. Yes, I was spared this time, but not promised to be as lucky should there be a next time. Therefore, I had to cowboy up and make another life altering change. To this day, I cannot believe that I made this choice and the decision has left me with even more psychological effects. I remind you that my pressure soars have had me confined to bed since last June, 2006. However, because of my close scare with the bone infection, I elected to get a colostomy. Prior to my decision and surgery, I had fought tooth and nail against having a colostomy with anyone and everyone that has ever suggested it. The reason that I chose to do this now was to help my soars stay clean, free of infections, and to heal. In other words, I chose to do this in the name of my health and figured that I would wrestle with the mental aspects of this procedure later. I barely had recovered from the surgery and off for another nursing home stay I would go. Now, the only reason that I chose to go back into a home was to learn how to manage and be educated on the colostomy. However, I was kicked out of both of them before this could be done, because I lack insurance. Neither the hospital, nor the nursing home, had substantial evidence or knowledge that the colostomy was properly working before they released me. To this day in order for the colostomy to function, I have to take laxatives to move my bowels. In addition, all that I was taught is how to clean the ostomy site and change the bag. Ever since my surgery, I have had consistent abdominal discomfort and spasms, which has left me taking pain medicine nightly. This was considered to be normal in the minds of my doctors’. At the same time, this has been a major blow to my self esteem or psyche which I had expected it to be. When it comes to relationships and romance, my disability has already been a proven repellent with all, but a handful of women that I have met throughout the years. I know that this is not because of my personality. I have received compliments and praise from the majority of people that I have come in contact with. Now, I have to pray that I will meet a woman that will not only see beyond my paralysis, but also my colostomy. I cannot see my future, but I surely do fear that this now means that I will never find a woman who will love me and in return accept my love. I'm afraid that this last operation was the end of my possible love life and chance to be intimate again. Spiritually I cannot understand why the Lord cast all these trials on me throughout my short life. I want to understand why and be a good servant unto Him, but when I have my doubts I know that I am being disobedient to His word. I realize that there are people in this world that would gladly trade their problems with me and so I should be thankful. However, the human part of me wants to complain and understand exactly what it was that I did in order to deserve all the pain, heartache, and affliction that I have been through. I am by no means trying to make a sermon out of these thoughts. However, I do want to stay true to my love for Him. I have simply been dealing with more stress and problems than I really want. I do not like hiding all these depressing thoughts and feelings that I have inside of me. During this last nursing home stay, the one positive was, I was able to discuss some of my feelings and problems with a shrink. I had three sessions and this was very therapeutic. I had forgotten exactly how good it felt to feel good about myself. I cannot wait until I am able to go to her office for regular visits. Thanks be to God, the soars have closed up and soon I will get back to sitting in my wheelchair and living some type of normal life. However, I have no idea what normal means anymore. Although I am living with family, I am living in a nuthouse. This is not my lifestyle, as I know or remember it. I don't really know who I am or have become. I am thankful that they took me in, but I'm not happy living here. Because my sister is helping me and this is her house, she actually believes that she has the right to talk down to me, to cuss me, and treats me like a child. My therapist at the nursing home reassured me that this is wrong. She even validated my feelings on several other issues where my sister and I disagree. The greatest advice she gave me to practice while living here was to use the “Serenity” prayer [God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference]. By living here, I am forced to hear a bunch of screaming and yelling, on a daily basis. This and being physical is not an acceptable form of discipline for me. I hate it! I had to wait eighteen years to be free of that life when I was old enough to leave my dad’s house. While I lived on my own, I was the only one that could raise the roof and disturb me. In addition, none of my family members ever knew “all” of the specific details about my life and the work that it took to function on a daily basis. This is especially true when it came to the routine demands of the bowel program or unexpected bowel accident. In fact, prior to my colostomy surgery, my sister was the one who preached the loudest for me to have this done. She would screams as loud as she could that this would make my life easier. Sadly, my sister believes screaming to be an effective tool in communicating. And, being the great wise one who knows everything, she said that I was refusing to do so because I didn't want to be more independent. She believed that this would make my life so much easier. Well, the truth has finally smacked her in the face. Because I am a quadriplegic, I do not have the finger dexterity to perform the maintenance and change my bag when it gets full of stool. Therefore, I have required her help and she has finally admitted that this is a task that is difficult for her to handle, but not in those kind words. Instead, as she yelled at me the other day, she stated that she can no longer handle helping me with the colostomy bags routine maintenance. In addition, she can no longer handle getting up and helping me turn at night either. It is necessary for me to be turned and this was not an issue when my niece lived here and was doing the majority of this duty. Once my skin toughens up, then I should not have to burden anyone with turning help. However, this was just one more thing about my needs, due to my disability, for her to make me feel guilty about. A couple nights ago as I pondered on her words I realize something, I was a simply amazing quadriplegic of a man when I lived on my own, because I never complained or thought even once about quitting when things became more difficult beyond the normal routine. My family has been there and cleaned me up when I had bowel accidents or wet the bed on numerous occasions, more so than I can even count. However, this pride that I just spoke of is for all of the occasions when they were not there in my time of need, yet I survived. My sister has every right to get frustrated when the going gets tuff, but dog gone it I am a human being and not a machine. I have feelings and she has to learn how to respect me, whether this is her house or not. I am tired of living under her thumb and fearing to speak my mind for what I might say. Before I was released from this last stay at the nursing home, I tried to explain my feelings to her. However, her response was, “When you come home, you are going to respect my (her) house!” Slowly I ingested these words and calmly asked, “And, how have I ever disrespected your (her) household?” To which the best thing she could say was, “You will allow me to vacuum and dust your room!” Can you say “what,” because that is what I was left thinking the rest of that night. I love my sister very much and I assure you that I am not writing this to shame her name. However, to simplify things, my sister is a control freak that has obsessive compulsive disorder. When it comes to this household, she must be the one who controls and dictates everyone's life in this house. Two of my nieces left out of here, because they could no longer handle being here. Now, I have found myself at my wits end! I have decided that when I am healthy enough, I am going to look into seeing if I can get help. If my wish will be granted, I want to get financial funding to be admitted into a rehabilitation center. Therapy will best benefit me to restore my body and mind, due to all the things that I have mentioned going through since 2006. If this does not work, then I hate to think this, but I guess I'll have to consider find a nursing home or something. I am simply tired of this emotional rollercoaster ride that I have been on. I never asked for this ride, but I sure as hell no that I would like to get off of it. So friend, this is what has become of me and exactly how I have been. Are you glad that you asked?

HARD TIMES

whiskeyman1130 — Sat, 22 Dec 2007 17:32:00 GMT

I've been paralyzed for 24 years. I already went through the rebellious stage many years ago. Therefore, I have no problems with my disability. The problem that I'm trying to cope with is living with family! I lived independently, on my own for 20 years. Last year, I got a bad infection in my elbow and required 4 different surgeries. While spending a great deal of time in the hospital, my family packed up all my belongings and memories and put them in storage. I didn't get one word in, regarding what I choosed to have boxed up or not. Heck, I don't really know what worldly possessions I still own. Then, I got some serious pressure sores on my butt and back in the hospital I went. I accept the fact that I'm getting old and can use a helping hand, but this living with family is ruff. I rarely get to make any of my own decisions. My sister is constantly doing so. And, if and when I should speak out for myself and disagree, then all hell breaks lose. Either, I get told I'm being impossible and feeling sorry for myself or I am expected to explain how or why my decision is more beneficial or not to my life and disability. Why does life have to be so difficult? My family knows my brain works right and that I spoke for myself all these years gone by. Now, it feels so smothering as if I'm suffocating. Don't get me wrong, I love my family. It is the having to give up my independence and living with them that's driving me freaking nuts! The big problem is that they don't think from the mind set of adisabled person. I know perfectly well what fits my wants and desires. As I've previously said, when I point this stuff out either I get occused of being impossible or feeling sorry for myself (because of my disability). These are hard times! Anyone have any answers or suggestions?