I am being murdered by the Governor’s cuts to disabled seniors. I do not get enough Social Security to afford rent now that I’ve lost my home. (See ‘State Budget Cuts’ in this issue of the Street Sheet.)

As a native of this area, I was told to leave California, as there was no money for people like me. I am 68, and confined to a wheelchair. I have spinal problems that cause severe pain, and a pacemaker due to life-threatening cardiac problems.

San Francisco General threw me out of the hospital and into the rain at 2:00 a.m. because—even though they knew I couldn’t survive on the street—there is no penalty for their endangering a person’s life. They told me to leave town.

I got to my car with help, but was unable to drive anywhere. The Homeless Outreach Team saved me, but sent me to a shelter. I am not allowed in shelters, as I have too many medical problems.

I can live a productive life if I have a hospital bed to raise me, but when I have to be pulled up it compresses my discs, and causes continuous overwhelming pain. This is well documented. I couldn’t get up to eat, nor go to the bathroom as shelter staff were forbidden to help me. I paid people to pull me up to go to the bathroom, and occasionally eat. It was excruciating.

The HOT Team transferred me to the Civic Center Hotel, as my health was seriously declining in the shelter, and by law I wasn’t allowed to stay due to my medical problems.

The Hotel people are nice, but it’s a nightmare. Bedbugs eat you alive. The two heavy doors to the elevator stop me from using it. The door to my room won’t let my wheelchair through. The bathrooms are too far, and the shower can’t accommodate me even when it’s not in use. There is yelling and arguing both night and day.

The HOT Team refused to let me have a hospital bed, and then finally agreed, but I couldn’t rent one as MediCare said the three month break in service showed I didn’t need it!

I tried to get the Independent Living Center to help, but was unable to make the phone calls myself, as I was totally overwhelmed with pain. The worker who I had asked to help me just smiled and said he was going home. (He’s comfortable.)

It took me a week to be able to write this letter. I am constantly attacked by the people who are supposed to help me, and told I’ll be out on the street if I don’t like my situation.

Everyone on the HOT Team is aware that I had blood clots ten years ago, and will die if I get any again now, as I am severely allergic to the medicines that clear them up. They know my lying in bed will bring the clots on (as verified by a doctor who was sent to my room due to my inability to move). I live each day in agony, and now fear, as I don’t know how long I have until clots form.

laurajeannehawk

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