The VA in Houston still hasn't recovered from last years hurricane

The Houston Chronicle writes about it

From the window of the bedroom he shares with another homeless veteran at Houston’s VA hospital, James Brooks can see the gutter alongside Almeda Road where his life almost ended five months ago.

The 53-year-old Navy veteran had been swilling a bottle of gin at an abandoned building on Thanksgiving Day when his chest seized in agony. He staggered to a bus stop and boarded the No. 11 to the Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center, but the pain became unbearable and he begged the driver to let him off early. “I didn’t want to die on the bus,” Brooks said.

He collapsed by the edge of the road, where a hospital worker found him praying. After an emergency angioplasty unblocked the flow of blood in Brooks’ heart, his case worker suggested he apply for a bed at the VA’s domiciliary, a short-term residential rehabilitation program for veterans suffering from psychiatric problems and substance abuse. Brooks has been clean and sober ever since, one of 30 homeless veterans temporarily living in a ward of the VA hospital after Hurricane Ike wrecked the original domiciliary — a newly renovated apartment complex at 7329 Fannin — within weeks of the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Nearly eight months after the storm, the facility still isn’t habitable.

“We prepare for the worst possible situation, but we can’t control Mother Nature,” said Luis Paulino, director of the VA’s Homeless Veterans Program.

Paulino hopes the repaired domiciliary will reopen by mid-June. The VA, which leases the facility from Riverside General Hospital for $374,000 a year, has halted payments until it’s safe for veterans to move back in.
‘A negative connotation’

Meanwhile, Paulino said, circumstances at the hospital are less than ideal for a program that focuses on recovery rather than illness.

The domiciliary was designed to mimic a home environment so residents could practice the everyday skills needed to live and work in the community. The facility on Fannin had 14 apartments with kitchenettes, a dining room, group meeting room, laundry facilities and a courtyard with palm trees and picnic tables.

“It’s a better treatment setting for the veterans,” Paulino said. “I mean, who wants to live in a hospital?”

Domiciliary staff have tried to limit traffic through the homeless veterans’ living quarters at the hospital by circulating memos and posting signs at entrances warning that all visitors must sign in at the front desk.

“It’s not easy to have to come back into the hospital, which for some of our veterans has a very negative connotation,” said Jeri Gates, the domiciliary’s acting director. “They don’t want to be in the VA. They don’t want to be in the hospital. They want to be independent.”

But aside from the bland cafeteria food, you won’t hear Brooks complaining about the inconvenience.

“This was the last stop in the road, and I just thank God I got another chance,” he said. “I’ve been to worse places, you know what I’m saying? This is not bad at all. This is what you make it.”
‘A reason to live’

For Brooks and his fellow homeless veterans, the fluorescent-lit hallways of Ward 4C are a haven, but also a proving ground.

They keep track of their own medications, doctors appointments and therapy sessions, do their own laundry and clean their own bedrooms and bathrooms, just as they would at the domiciliary. Many have jobs elsewhere in the hospital, part of the VA’s Transitional Work Experience program to teach vocational skills. Brooks works in the gift shop.

“I don’t like to see sick people. Sometimes it depresses me,” the Illinois native said. “But it gives me hope to see all walks of life, especially on Sunday, when families come here to see the patients. You can feel their pain and say, ‘Boy, what am I doing with my life? I’ve got nobody here to see me.’ ”

The realization drove Brooks to re-establish his relationship with his two children, ages 8 and 10, who live in the Houston area.

“You know the movie, Leaving Las Vegas? That was me. I was just determined to destroy my life through alcohol and drugs,” Brooks said. “I’ve finally got the fog out of my eyes. I feel like I have a reason to live.”

Darrell Marsh, a 49-year-old Army veteran from Colorado, admits that making the hospital his home wasn’t easy, especially since his father died there.

Marsh, who has bipolar disorder, found himself without a place to live late last year after completing a residential substance abuse treatment program. He’s battled addiction since he was a young man, and drug felonies on his record make it hard for him to find a job, even though he’s been clean for 14 months. About 45 percent of homeless veterans suffer from mental illness and slightly more than 70 percent from alcohol or drug abuse problems. “It makes you give up before you even try, sometimes,” Marsh said.

But he’s learned an important lesson from living among ailing and disabled veterans at the hospital.

“You see how other people are struggling in life but keep on going,” he said. “When I see a person in a wheelchair, I push ’em down a hallway, or talk to them, and I feel a little bit better about myself.”

Bootstrapping

Here's a homeless guy who's being proactive in trying to get himself off the street. And the "activist" types don't like it.