OK, so the hospital releases me to Social Services (DSS). The first place they send me to is run by the Family Service League, and is called TLC.
So, just FYI, there are a lot of damaged people here. Some physically, some emotionally, some both.
You sleep dorm style – the beds fold up, roll them to the dorm and sack out. In the morning everything gets folded up & put away.
It’s not that noisy, except for the defective ‘kid’ that snores. Sounds like a truck with a Jake brake! Oh, yeah. Well, wake up is at 630 am, gotta leave for DSS at 745. Spend all day there, well til 3pm, and get a ride back to the shelter. Now I’m not supposed to carry anything heavier than 10 pounds /4.53 kg until cleared by my doctor. This woman -a girl, actually tells me I can’t come back in til after 4 pm. I ask her if I can put my property in a locker. She says I’m not even supposed to be on the property. I have to sit outside until 4:30… Thank God for bureaucrats, eh? This is on Thursday. On Monday I go back to DSS. I state that my medical/ nutritional needs are not being met. I’m supposed to be on a low salt, low carb diet due to my cardiac/diabetic issues.
They send me to this place run by Community Housing Innovations. ( http://chigrants.org/crisis-housing-services/emergencytransitional-housing/ ) The first meeting with the woman that runs the place, a Mrs. Deirdra Wright, she makes a point of stating she is a professional, and runs a “professional house”. Umm… Not.
The other ‘clients’ are… alcoholics, drug addicts, felons, so I’d imagine her view of humanity is coloured by her interaction with these people. (That being said, I’ve done more prescription drugs in the past three months than all my past combined.) Still, it’s not professional to accuse someone of gambling with no evidence whatsoever, much less with video evidence to the contrary. She told one of her other clients that she thinks I drink. The last drink I had was two beers, Thanksgiving 2013.
She actually made the statement, ” With as many people coming to pick you up, why can’t you stay with them?” The only two people that have picked me up are my brother and his friend, April. Well, I’m getting ahead of myself.
We’re supposed to do chores… The doc says not to lift, carry, push or pull more than 10 pounds. Everything I do causes my chest to hurt. The nurse tells me not to clean anything. Mrs. Wright says no excuses, no exceptions. *sigh* So I was between a rock and a hard place, there.
We’re supposed to meet twice a week -why, I don’t know – it usually winds up with neither one of us being happy. I have no answers for her, she refuses to give me any. Case in point: we’re supposed to call up various local agencies for ‘permanent’ housing and write down the results. No agency is taking applications. They have a backlog of apps dating back to 2003! DSS gives
me $309 a month for housing. I ask where I’m supposed to find these places. She tells me to look around. I have no idea where to look, I tell her. That’s not my problem, she says.
I actually have walked away. Just walked out of her office, or away from her. She can have her butt on her shoulders, at times.
The last straw with her was my roommate was sanctioned for not going to some appointment or another. He left me the locks and keys for the cupboard and fridge.
She wanted the keys and locks. I gave them to her. Locked the locks first so I could get everything out, because she’s too lazy to carry them downstairs to her office.
So she’s in her office with another client. I get a delivery from the pharmacy. She comes running up the stairs, and out to the ‘dining room’ where I’m opening up my paper bag full of meds she asks who are those for. I look at her and say,”Me. Would you like the receipt?”
“You know I do.
That’s it, you’re out of here.”
I ask her what I did or didn’t do. She says you know what you did. I tell her its obvious that I don’t, as I have asked the question.
So I’m placed elsewhere.
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