Pathology and house cleaning

Today we started the task we've been dreading for years. We started cleaning out the house where Debbie's sister B lives, where she's always lived. The house is sold and we're trying to salvage whatever we can before it's too late. We got there around 8:15 in the morning and worked until after 4pm. We also had 3 incredible friends come by and help. They were amazing. I can't thank them enough, and they're all eager to come back and help more! Trust me, we all wore hats, dust masks and gloves and probably should have worn respirators.

The woman is 45 and has never lived away from home. Ever. She never moved out, fucked up, and moved back like many of us have. She's simply always lived there. To be fair, there is a great deal of psychiatric pathology going on. It's undiagnosed and untreated, but there's no denying it, ok, so she does, but that's part of the disease. She's always had problems, probably why her parents enabled her so much - they just tried to take care of their sick daughter. Didn't do her any favors, but I can sorta understand it. My goal for her is to have her hospitalized, diagnosed and treated, and once she has the proper diagnosis, to get her into the disability system. She may be able to function better with treatment, but I honestly think there's some major cognitive issues as well. She just doesn't process information normally. If she were in the system, she could have insurance, health care, a steady income, someone to make sure she took care of herself...etc.

Anyway, back to the house...when their parents died, Debbie and B got it. We let B live there with the understanding that she would take care of the bills and taxes. We foolishly expected that she would keep it reasonably livable. We were wrong. The house was never very clean, but at least you knew it was a house and people could live there without fear of it collapsing or otherwise killing you. If a health inspector walked in, he'd instantly condemn it and throw a lock on the door.

There is no running water. There hasn't been in over 2 years, maybe 3. She's been buying or somehow getting gallon jugs of water for herself and the dog. FYI...we rented a port-a-john for the cleaning up process.

I cleaned up/threw out a dozen bags of used cat litter, along with a full-to-the-brim litter box that was in the hallway. The cats died 2 years ago.

There was mouse and rat shit throughout the entire kitchen, on nearly every surface. There were hundreds of plastic shopping bags around the house that had been made into mouse/rat living quarters.

Every inch of the ceiling and every surface in the livingroom was obscured and covered by dust-laden cobwebs. We're talking an inch or more of dust.

There was a layer of papers, unopened mail, magazines, books and godknowswhat that was about a foot deep throughout the entire livingroom. I slipped and fell twice.

To give you a rough idea: We threw out around 50 contractor bags of garbage, and that was just for the kitchen and creating a pathway in the livingroom. We're not even 1/8 of the way done. Why not a dumpster you might ask? Because the way the parking area is set up, no, no driveway, the driver would have to maneuver around a subaru wagon that hasn't moved in 4 years. The parking area/bank that it would be on might not support it, either. It probably would, but I'm sure the company doesn't want to risk it. At least for now, a few thousand more bags should do it.

Obviously both Debbie and B are having a hard time with this. B is feeling and acting like a trapped animal, lashing out and being exceptionally nasty. She is losing the only home she's ever known, feeling like she's being evicted, and she's losing the cocoon of insanity she's lived in/created for herself. She's rightfully terrified. Debbie is finally seeing the depth of B's illness, but she's still trying to make sense out of insanity and expecting her to take part in the process. I'm just hanging in there, bringing friends to help and being as supportive as I can. It's all I can do right now.

I could go on, but words don't do it justice. I also promised Debbie I wouldn't post pictures, but if you want, and I know you, I can send them. Just ask.

Too tired to keep writing.