Libraries are the the refuge of the homeless. When living in Pontiac and visiting the library, I saw the same faces. The homeless would find a corner to rest their head on a table or one would be sitting in a chair with eyes closed for some peace from the outside world that could be so bitterly cruel. The cold winter months are long in a city of the forgotten.
There was a man who would venture out even on the coldest of days to go to a Church to get a hot meal. The bottom of his soles were worn out, but that did not stop him from his regular routine. Most of the individuals living at the home had clothes that were tattered and if the clothes were not already tattered, well, bleach took care of that. The man who ventured out daily, lived at the Quality AFC Home in Pontiac where I too resided. The man's eyes lit up like a child when he came home one evening, and he was so happy, grateful and proud to show me that a gentleman at the Church literally went to his home to retrieve a pair of his own shoes to give to him. Thirty four people were crammed into this home where two houses were adjoined with a common dining area. The home more often than not only had one staff person on hand in the evening. Medicines, laundry and housekeeping fell to this individual to take care of the responsibilities properly. Unbelievably, Quality AFC Home is listed as a Charitable Organization and was fully licensed by the State of Michigan. According to 2012 records, The reported income for Quality A F C Home Inc was $387,367, which makes it one of the highest income nonprofits.
There was a man who would venture out even on the coldest of days to go to a Church to get a hot meal. The bottom of his soles were worn out, but that did not stop him from his regular routine. Most of the individuals living at the home had clothes that were tattered and if the clothes were not already tattered, well, bleach took care of that. The man who ventured out daily, lived at the Quality AFC Home in Pontiac where I too resided. The man's eyes lit up like a child when he came home one evening, and he was so happy, grateful and proud to show me that a gentleman at the Church literally went to his home to retrieve a pair of his own shoes to give to him. Thirty four people were crammed into this home where two houses were adjoined with a common dining area. The home more often than not only had one staff person on hand in the evening. Medicines, laundry and housekeeping fell to this individual to take care of the responsibilities properly. Unbelievably, Quality AFC Home is listed as a Charitable Organization and was fully licensed by the State of Michigan. According to 2012 records, The reported income for Quality A F C Home Inc was $387,367, which makes it one of the highest income nonprofits.
Unbelievably, the home had a water fountain that was not operational because the switch at the fountain was broken. Dee, Conjit's husband decided rather than fix the fountain. He put a five gallon jug of water out for use. The problem; however, was the jug was often empty and getting water was a problem. Milk was rationed and the bread came from leftovers from Panerabread, but often was so hard that biting into it was a chore.
Bed bugs were an issue at the home in 2012. When I complained about the situation, I was yelled at and told it was costing $6,000.00 to have the home treated. Well, excuse me, maybe the situation should have been addressed when they were letting individuals go to drop off centers where homeless people would go for the day and crime was rampant. A man was shot and killed outside of the drop-off center where I was going at that time too, and no one seemed to give a second thought about it. He was just one more fellow who met his maker.
Drug exchanges were taking place and everybody knew to look the other way. So what, you may ask happened to me, that I wound up in such a precarious position. Well, I was living in Livingston County and trying to find a full-time job from 2009-2011. I was only able to find a slew of part-time work and this was when the stock-market crashed. I went through a divorce, and I was left to raise my son. I couldn't make ends meet and my home was foreclosed on. My son, eventually, turned eighteen and began his life journey. In the meantime, I had to find a place to stay. A friend knew I had no where to go and offered to have me sublet his apartment since he had a spare room. I literally lived in the foreclosed home for a year, which was allowed. I then moved to the apartment, but I had to say goodbye to my dog by putting him down before I could move in.
The apartment deal lasted about five months before the fellow dropped dead of a prescription addiction. Bare in mind, prior to this time, I had been married for twenty-two years and had raised two kids, was a scout leader, sub-teacher, VFW ladies auxiliary member and served on the committee that began our first Christmas parade. Oh, and I had worked as a stringer reporter and freelance writer. As for my personal married life, I am not at a point where I feel comfortable talking about that.
Livingston County had no homeless shelters. I simply lost it mentally. I could not afford to stay where I was living and things were not looking up. My brother suggested a group home, and I should not have issued the check so quickly for Quality AFC was anything but Quality. I was taking medication, but my medication were messed up at the home. I was linked with services through Community Mental Health of Oakland County. Their services were sub-standard, so arrangements were made to receive services through Easter Seals. The problem was that I reported the situation to employees at Vision's Clubhouse, but I did not feel comfortable about the situation. I also reported the problem to the Caseworker with Easter Seals, but I was not a client of hers long enough to resolve the issues. I felt overwhelmed by the situation.
There were no safety belts in the van that we road in while one of the drivers drove so fast we would be catapulted from side to side. The day after being yelled at, I was on Woodward Ave, and I asked Conjit Biteu, an owner of the home, to let me out of the van and she told the driver to stop the van and let me out. The driver point blank asked Conjit, "here." Conjit responded, "Yes," so the driver stopped the van right on Woodward and let me out. I took a bus from Pontiac to Royal Oak and then road another bus, but was only able to get as far as the Farmington Oakland Community College Campus. I called the driver who had let me off and she called her ex who picked me up and treated me to dinner. He urged me to come up with a plan. In the meantime, it was getting late, and I was finally able to get a hold of my Aunt. She could not take me home as her residence is for retirees. The man who picked me up, I told her was a preacher. He conveyed the horrible conditions of the home, and that they owned other homes, a boat, two Cadillacs and vehicles for their kids.
The next day, I went to the hospital in Pontiac where I had been treated and retrieved my hospital records before boarding a Greyhound Bus. I could not get a bus direct to Fowlerville. I took the bus to Flint and then boarded the transfer bus to Lansing. I stopped by the Lansing State Journal and spoke with the editor about the conditions of group homes, but she indicated they did not have the staffing to pursue the story. I then went to Subway and ate lunch. I wandered until I was walking on a bridge that overlooked water by a pharmaceutical company and a park that was dedicated to Union Workers. I left my hospital records with one of the onlookers.
Eventually, I walked to Delta college and spoke with the security person and asked him to call the Chief of Police in Fowlerville. I was deteriorating as the day progressed, but I was still holding my own. The Chief arranged for a local ambulance to come get me, and I was taken to Sparrow Hospital. I was briefly evaluated and then waited in the lobby for hours when a doctor finally saw me. He was young and never asked me to sit down before even looking at me. He offended me with his cockiness. I reached to slap him and he laughed, with that security was called, but they were respectful and turned their backs when I asked to get changed into a gown. An older doctor came in and made the decision to have me transferred to St. Lawrence Hospital, where I received treatment from Dr. Dominic Barberio. He was completely unaware of the full set of circumstances, which led to my being at the hospital and the fact that many nights, I was being prevented from sleeping in my supposed designated room.
Additionally, the only clothes I had were those on my back. The shooting at the Connecticut school occurred, and the staff were glued to the television. Though I wanted to work on projects in the back with the staff lady who had a tatoo that said "Imagine," and she was willing to help me, she told me she was not allowed to do this. I needed activities because there was nothing to do back in the secluded wing other than watch television, which was simply upsetting.
I certainly was not myself, and I continued to deteriorate. I was being monitored at night and one staff person took advantage of the situation and that led to my final inability to recover in that setting at all. Dr. Barberio arranged for me to be transferred to Caro.
I was finally released from Caro and sent to Burton to live in a Group Home, which though not perfect was far superior to the one I had been in while living in Pontiac. I sought services through Livingston County because I could not afford to live anywhere safe in Oakland County. Livingston County failed once again to find appropriate housing when it was evident I was capable of being on my own again, but thankfully, a Genesee social worker and doctors and nurses felt it was time to move on, and I was given a list of apartments to choose from. I am now on my own again and forging a path to get back to work. The world may write you off, but never ever write yourself off.
I still see many empty eyes behind library books, but some of the most intelligent people I know are the ones you may simply walk by. I urge you to open your eyes and pause for a moment while thinking "but there for the grace of God go I." What little thing can you do to change the circumstance of these individuals. Volunteering is a good place to start. Broken hearts, minds and bodies are healed by nurturing hands not by slandering words or askance eyes. I am reaching out, will you do the same?
*To view materials, copy and paste data into your browser. Financial numbers are drawn from the, 2012, report when I resided at Quality AFC Home Inc.
*I am not interested in suing, I just want to improve the circumstances of all, so no one faces similar circumstances. Together we can improve the lives of the disabled.
http://nonprofits.findthecompany.com/l/706060/Quality-A-F-C-Home-Inc
http://courts.mi.gov/courts/michigansupremecourt/oral-arguments/2012-2013-arguments/pages/144771,-144792.aspx
This report shows reckless regard for individuals in their care and further demonstrates that Quality AFC was negligent when I too was not of sound mind, by letting me out on Woodward Ave.
Bed bugs were an issue at the home in 2012. When I complained about the situation, I was yelled at and told it was costing $6,000.00 to have the home treated. Well, excuse me, maybe the situation should have been addressed when they were letting individuals go to drop off centers where homeless people would go for the day and crime was rampant. A man was shot and killed outside of the drop-off center where I was going at that time too, and no one seemed to give a second thought about it. He was just one more fellow who met his maker.
Drug exchanges were taking place and everybody knew to look the other way. So what, you may ask happened to me, that I wound up in such a precarious position. Well, I was living in Livingston County and trying to find a full-time job from 2009-2011. I was only able to find a slew of part-time work and this was when the stock-market crashed. I went through a divorce, and I was left to raise my son. I couldn't make ends meet and my home was foreclosed on. My son, eventually, turned eighteen and began his life journey. In the meantime, I had to find a place to stay. A friend knew I had no where to go and offered to have me sublet his apartment since he had a spare room. I literally lived in the foreclosed home for a year, which was allowed. I then moved to the apartment, but I had to say goodbye to my dog by putting him down before I could move in.
The apartment deal lasted about five months before the fellow dropped dead of a prescription addiction. Bare in mind, prior to this time, I had been married for twenty-two years and had raised two kids, was a scout leader, sub-teacher, VFW ladies auxiliary member and served on the committee that began our first Christmas parade. Oh, and I had worked as a stringer reporter and freelance writer. As for my personal married life, I am not at a point where I feel comfortable talking about that.
Livingston County had no homeless shelters. I simply lost it mentally. I could not afford to stay where I was living and things were not looking up. My brother suggested a group home, and I should not have issued the check so quickly for Quality AFC was anything but Quality. I was taking medication, but my medication were messed up at the home. I was linked with services through Community Mental Health of Oakland County. Their services were sub-standard, so arrangements were made to receive services through Easter Seals. The problem was that I reported the situation to employees at Vision's Clubhouse, but I did not feel comfortable about the situation. I also reported the problem to the Caseworker with Easter Seals, but I was not a client of hers long enough to resolve the issues. I felt overwhelmed by the situation.
There were no safety belts in the van that we road in while one of the drivers drove so fast we would be catapulted from side to side. The day after being yelled at, I was on Woodward Ave, and I asked Conjit Biteu, an owner of the home, to let me out of the van and she told the driver to stop the van and let me out. The driver point blank asked Conjit, "here." Conjit responded, "Yes," so the driver stopped the van right on Woodward and let me out. I took a bus from Pontiac to Royal Oak and then road another bus, but was only able to get as far as the Farmington Oakland Community College Campus. I called the driver who had let me off and she called her ex who picked me up and treated me to dinner. He urged me to come up with a plan. In the meantime, it was getting late, and I was finally able to get a hold of my Aunt. She could not take me home as her residence is for retirees. The man who picked me up, I told her was a preacher. He conveyed the horrible conditions of the home, and that they owned other homes, a boat, two Cadillacs and vehicles for their kids.
The next day, I went to the hospital in Pontiac where I had been treated and retrieved my hospital records before boarding a Greyhound Bus. I could not get a bus direct to Fowlerville. I took the bus to Flint and then boarded the transfer bus to Lansing. I stopped by the Lansing State Journal and spoke with the editor about the conditions of group homes, but she indicated they did not have the staffing to pursue the story. I then went to Subway and ate lunch. I wandered until I was walking on a bridge that overlooked water by a pharmaceutical company and a park that was dedicated to Union Workers. I left my hospital records with one of the onlookers.
Eventually, I walked to Delta college and spoke with the security person and asked him to call the Chief of Police in Fowlerville. I was deteriorating as the day progressed, but I was still holding my own. The Chief arranged for a local ambulance to come get me, and I was taken to Sparrow Hospital. I was briefly evaluated and then waited in the lobby for hours when a doctor finally saw me. He was young and never asked me to sit down before even looking at me. He offended me with his cockiness. I reached to slap him and he laughed, with that security was called, but they were respectful and turned their backs when I asked to get changed into a gown. An older doctor came in and made the decision to have me transferred to St. Lawrence Hospital, where I received treatment from Dr. Dominic Barberio. He was completely unaware of the full set of circumstances, which led to my being at the hospital and the fact that many nights, I was being prevented from sleeping in my supposed designated room.
Additionally, the only clothes I had were those on my back. The shooting at the Connecticut school occurred, and the staff were glued to the television. Though I wanted to work on projects in the back with the staff lady who had a tatoo that said "Imagine," and she was willing to help me, she told me she was not allowed to do this. I needed activities because there was nothing to do back in the secluded wing other than watch television, which was simply upsetting.
I certainly was not myself, and I continued to deteriorate. I was being monitored at night and one staff person took advantage of the situation and that led to my final inability to recover in that setting at all. Dr. Barberio arranged for me to be transferred to Caro.
I was finally released from Caro and sent to Burton to live in a Group Home, which though not perfect was far superior to the one I had been in while living in Pontiac. I sought services through Livingston County because I could not afford to live anywhere safe in Oakland County. Livingston County failed once again to find appropriate housing when it was evident I was capable of being on my own again, but thankfully, a Genesee social worker and doctors and nurses felt it was time to move on, and I was given a list of apartments to choose from. I am now on my own again and forging a path to get back to work. The world may write you off, but never ever write yourself off.
I still see many empty eyes behind library books, but some of the most intelligent people I know are the ones you may simply walk by. I urge you to open your eyes and pause for a moment while thinking "but there for the grace of God go I." What little thing can you do to change the circumstance of these individuals. Volunteering is a good place to start. Broken hearts, minds and bodies are healed by nurturing hands not by slandering words or askance eyes. I am reaching out, will you do the same?
*To view materials, copy and paste data into your browser. Financial numbers are drawn from the, 2012, report when I resided at Quality AFC Home Inc.
*I am not interested in suing, I just want to improve the circumstances of all, so no one faces similar circumstances. Together we can improve the lives of the disabled.
http://nonprofits.findthecompany.com/l/706060/Quality-A-F-C-Home-Inc
http://courts.mi.gov/courts/michigansupremecourt/oral-arguments/2012-2013-arguments/pages/144771,-144792.aspx
This report shows reckless regard for individuals in their care and further demonstrates that Quality AFC was negligent when I too was not of sound mind, by letting me out on Woodward Ave.
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