I am compelled to action on behalf of my brother Tom. The blood of parents runs through us both, not only the eccentricity but the gene for blindness. Tom became blind at 20 years of age. He lives is indescribable poverty and squalor.
In the past two months several hours a day are spent counseling and reassuring him. Not in person since neither of us drive, but many calls at night, listening and practicing empathy. Not judging, being witness to his anxiety. and small successes.
I am in such a blessed position to support him as he transitions into new housing. The social worker found a safer residence in Milwaukie with meals served downstairs daily. His acquaintances from the Quaker community have helped to box up his belongs; Spam cans that hold used spice bags for instance. He is frugal to a fault. His electric bill and phone bill have never exceeded thirty dollars, as trustee I know.
Each time I suggest an improvement to his standard of living, area carpet for instance he says no. He doesn't know if his dishwasher works, he has never used it. He prefers to hang his laundry outdoors to air dry rather than spend quarters to purchase dryer heat.
If I lived on six hundred dollars a month I might feel the same way. Every dime counts!
Last night when we spoke he said he had applesauce, yogurt and tofu for dinner. He was waiting to see if he became ill. He thought it might be spoiled. Being blind has some drawbacks.
My husband contends he is mentally ill. On some level he may be. Certainly to be depressed, and a hoarder strongly suggest something is out of balance. And I realize I can't change the blindness,or hoarding. I have hopes that the depression can be addressed through medication. Oregon Health Sciences University has a support group for people who hoard.
Last night I struggled with my hopelessness. My hopelessness lies in my inaction to come to his aid. I still wish for wisdom in this matter of being a loving agent of support.
With or without his agreeing to my help, I am going out to fulfill my vision of a cheerful, safe, clean living space for him. A rug, and brightly painted table, plates and glasses that won't break, a skillet with out rust or peeling teflon and silverware. Bath towels, night lights to guide his steps and a non skid mat for his shower floor will help.
To do nothing because he discourages me will benefit no one.
I am not attached to him changing. I just can't sit by and do nothing. I understand such mall things about being blind that can soothe his ragged soul and ease his living.
The social worker says he must make changes. I asked him to think of two things he could work on. . . .
Today is moving Day