How it all sarted...

In August of 2013 I made a life decision. You see I was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder at the age of 15. Now at 29, I was ready to stop treatment and allow my body to destroy itself. However something inside me snapped. I was tired of being sick, I was tired of my life being directed by how I felt. The place I was living at wasn't good for me physically,  nor mentally. That was when I sat my Mom down. I told her, if I was going to fight to live, I needed her help. And that help included getting me into my own place, and making it a home. I had an apartment in mind, the upstairs one in an apartment house she owns.  I had seen it once when I was a teen, wooden floors, large base-trim, and a claw-foot tub. She agreed.

Once little problem, there was someone else living in there. He was a friend of the family, and I was confident that if asked for me, he would gladly move. Mom asked, he agreed. Then one day the downstairs apartment called, and water was leaking. Mom had to get in upstairs fast, and since he had told her in the past that if she needed to get in to fix a leak, that she could go in. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a horrid smell.  She knew then that this wasn't going to be pretty. What she saw when she made it upstairs made her stomach roll, and her mind turn. That once beautiful apartment was destroyed. Cat feces everywhere, pop bottles, cat food, an apartment, that looked as though it was a dumpster. 

This was the cleanest room.

The Kitchen. 

Completely destroyed bathroom.

Entrance into the living room.

Other-side of the living room. You can't see it but there are wooden floors under this mess.

Corner of nothing but cat feces.

Another living room.

I was hearbroken, my mother was disgusted. This once dream home looked like it may need demolished.  The smell was horrendus. She didn't know what to do. I thought I wouldn't ever have my dream home.

She went straight to the renter, and told him, he needed to clean it, and get out. She called a constable and had him deliver papers.  

We called the insurance, and of course it didn't cover this kind of damage. To have a professional come it it would cost anywhere from 6,000, to 8,000 dollars. Money my Mother didn't have. And so we had to wait until the renter was out to see what we were left with.

In my next post you will see what the once prictene wooden floor look like, along with walls. He hadn't had electric or gas in the apartment for over 3 years.