When One Door Closes, Another Door...

Can't even be nudged open a tiny crack.
I had mistakenly believed that the Ontarians with Disabilities Act meant that any building erected after a certain date had to be handicapped accessible. Sadly I'm learning that term usually means only if one has additional persons to help.

 In an attempt to be somewhat optimistic that I'd soon be able to find a home for myself and my daughter I had a good friend take me to view a few apartments. I was dropped off at the front door to avoid the painful walk through the parking lot. Being a crisp morning, I thought I'd go into the entry foyer to warm up and wait for my friend to join me.

A harsh reality hit me. The doors were just too heavy for me to budge (my increasing weakness prevents me from doing lots of things for myself these days, but having relied on automated doors at my usual haunts of hospitals and clinics I hadn't even attempted a non-automated door in quite a while). Simply not an option for accommodation if I can't get the front door open by myself.

And so the morning continued in much the same manner. Each entry door was simply too heavy for me to manage on my own. We thought we got lucky with one building that had a handicapped entry button - but it proved to be out of order (and the apartment once we got in to see it was simply disgusting. Even the agent agreed that it needed a total overhaul to make it livable). I was already looking at the top end of what I'd been counselled I might be able to afford once all the legal separation details are at long last settled, and this was unnerving to see what was on offer.

I've since learned that newer buildings meet Disability Code by having doors wide enough for a wheelchair, but that only works if you have two people with you. One to push the wheelchair, the other to hold the door open. This wasn't coming together at all in the way we had hoped and prayed for under already trying circumstances. So many apartments that had seemed like they would meet our very basic requirements for an affordable apartment in a safe neighbourhood were no longer options. 90% or more of potential housing off the list in one fell swoop - and I'm only on crutches at this point, totally out of the question when a wheelchair is required.

As you might know from previous posts, my daughter and are currently without a home. Amazing friends have rescued me from the disheartening alternative of a homeless shelter offered by social services, but "couch-surfing" in my condition is far from ideal. My daughter and I currently share a small room, and share a bathroom with others (those of you who are familiar with my susceptibility to infection will understand the concerns there) and have to deal with stairs. And lots of them. And relying on friends to feed us - and I'm surely driving them up the wall with the restricted diet I have to adhere to to avoid the dreaded Epi-Pen.

Living out of suitcases for the last four weeks is taking its toll. I end up resting in bed for most of the day in an attempt to take the pressure off my leg and hip. Talk about a serious case of cabin fever! No TV in there (I miss my Corrie!), limited internet access, a computer that shuts down from overheating after just ten minutes of use. And almost invariably I've forgotten my towel or toiletries after making the trek down the hall to the bathroom. Don't mistake me, I'm so very grateful for the friends who have given us shelter when there wasn't any other viable option - but we all recognize that this was meant to be a temporary fix to a larger problem that should have been solved long ago.

This goal of a fixed address slides further and further away. Landlords turn me down immediately for rental units, I have no income and insufficient liquid assets to assure them that I can pay out a for a full year of a lease (a good portion of my retirement savings was depleted over the last three years and most of what's left is locked into a pension fund that I can't access). And no landlord will allow me to alter a rental unit with mobility aids required to allow me to remain independant as long as possible.

Nor can I buy a small condo because the portion of the house proceeds that I'm entitled to stay in trust until legalities of my separation are worked out. Buying a condo would be the ideal scenario so that I could make alterations (for example replacing a bathtub with a shower/seat) as my illness progresses and stay as long as possible in a home of my own before moving to a nursing home or into hospice care. If you know me personally, you know how doggedly determined I am to be independent and do as much for myself as possible. That's another post altogether.

Over the last few months I check the real estate listings first thing upon waking; they will have been updated overnight. There are only a few complexes in Burlington with that precious handicapped button that even come close to my very meager budget (where it would be best  for me to stay to be close to my daughter's father for her sake, my friends, the healthcare network that's been established with social services). Apartments are listed, and disappear almost as quickly. And now that we're into summer, hardly any appear at all.

The thought of further imposing on friends deeply concerns us; my daughter and I are both anxious to find a place of our own. In two short months she heads back to university and for her own peace of mind she wants to see for herself that I've been ensconced in a safe environment and that the nurses and personal care workers are in place. And that care too is at risk right now without proof of permanent residency in Burlington.

I was reading a piece yesterday that actress Rita Wilson wrote about her dear friend Nora Ephron, who sadly passed away this week. She wrote " How many times can you say that, as adults, you lived with your friends over the course of months?" after Nora and her husband gave a home to Rita and her husband Tom Hanks after their apartment had suffered severe water damage.

Hopefully you never find a need to impose on anyone in this way, but we certainly count ourselves very blessed to have the kind of friends who would welcome us in the way they have. However it's difficult to accept that my health issues create a burden on others  - especially knowing that there's a window of independence left for me that I've not been able to take advantage of.

And c’mon builders – how much more can it cost to install automated doors on the front door of an apartment building?