I've been living here 3 months now and I can say for sure that it sucks. I knew it wasn't going to be ideal and I knew the living situation I was going into wasn't going to be ideal great but I didn't expect what I got.
I love the bedroom and the acre of land, the chickens, and the fact that it gets really warm.
My roommates are not warm though. They are a couple who clearly do not want a roommate. They want the money but that's about it.
I asked about water damage and mold and was told no mold nor water damage/leaks. In fact, they own the house and one of them rebuilt it so I thought I was safe.
I'm not. As I was going down the stairs last week I could smell mold. The laundry room reeks of mold. The dishwasher smells like mold as does the kitchen sink.
And there's that dripping sound in the wall when I use the hot water. As I'm living here I can see how much the owners have neglected things that can result in water leaks.
Ever since moving here I've been trying to find a doctor and a psychiatrist. I was able to get a doctor's appointment for today. I had waited 2 months for this appointment. I did all the usual preparation.
I anticipated some skepticism regarding "cfs" but I didn't expect the hostility I was met with once I told him my diagnosis.
He hassled me on every single friggin medication I was on except for the gabapentin. He refused to fill my medications saying there is nothing wrong with me.
He said the reason my heart beats fast (POTS) is because I'm too thin. Ha! I told him I was diagnosed when I was 40-50 pounds heavier (I'm 5'8 and weigh 119).
He proceeded to tell me that what I needed was a psychiatrist. I said great! He said but none of the psychiatrists in our system take Medicare so "here's the number to community clinics" see ya.
I told him that in all my years of being sick that I had never been hassled about my medications and illness like I was today (well the optometrist was also bad and weird about cfs) and then I did the ugly cry in spite of trying not to. I'm not on any narcotics. He was upset that I'm on clonopin, flexeril, antibiotics, and antivirals. He said it was inappropriate and dangerous.
I told him I'm having severe back pain with sciatica going down my left leg and that I'd had back surgery in 2006 and that epidurals help. He refused to refer me for an epidural, refused to prescribe NSAIDS (told me to take Advil which I can't do for long because I have GASTRITIS).
I told him about toxic mold. He didn't believe me.
When I said I'm bedbound without the medications he sneered and said it wasn't because of any REAL illness.
I've been so isolated since moving. I thought living with people would ease that but its actually made it worse. Being pointedly avoided wears on a person's spirit.
I can't get any help in this shitty town.
So I'm bailing. I found someone who will buy my car. He said he needs to wait one more month which would have been fine but I need to leave sooner than later. A second guy is interested so I'm going to contact him on Thursday.
It's time to move on and it might be time to do something radical-like get a cargo van and convert it or an old U-haul and convert that and live a mobile lifestyle.
All I know is I can't tolerate much more of this. I have to do something differently.
Oh, the local paper had a series of articles on the higher than average rate of depression and suicides in this area along with reports of toxins in the environment.