Aimee Brodbeck is fundraising
Hygiene for the Houseless
I lost my Mother last Sunday. The sheriff called Monday night to let me know that they positively ID’d her body and to ask if I was “next of kin”. I didn’t know how to answer.
My Mom’s addiction took ahold of her when I was one. There was a rough custody battle, and my Dad fought like hell to give me the fortunate life I have today. Cindi was in and out of rehab just as much as I was in and out of her life.
When my mother was at her best, she was the softness I see staring back at me in the mirror. She loved her cutoff Calvin Klein jeans with cowboy boots. She had wild hair she never brushed. She loved unique furniture and cute tiny cars fitted with big shaggy dogs in the back. She giggled and cackled, sometimes together. This is how I choose to remember her.
But when she wasn’t at her best, she haunted me. I’d wait by the phone, she say she’d call. I’d wait after school, she’d say she would pick me up. I’d wait for hours, days, years… until I just stopped.
It’s been 20 years since I had spoken to her, but I see my Mom just a little more each day in the mirror. Every now and then I would google her on the internet and think, “This is it. This is the day I find out where she is. Will she be alive?” But I never do. Did. Whatever. And then I would wonder if she still searches for me, too.
The sheriff said that my Mom had been living on the streets for a while now. Somehow, she had made it to California. Although she had a few underlying conditions, she had ultimately contracted MRSA. The Sheriff’s words made me double over in pain, in heartbreak, in regret… Would I, could I, did I? She was so close by and I never even knew it.
According to the CDC, MRSA is a bacterial infection spread within a community through sharing personal items, contacted by an open wound. The opioid epidemic enhances the likelihood of contracting it. If gone untreated, this disease can cause sepsis and kill. But if caught early, with proper hygiene and antibiotics, it makes it less likely that MRSA can become serious.
My mother most likely didn’t have access to showers, clean clothes and antibiotics. By the time she was finally willing to get help, it was too late. She died in the hospital within 24 hours, holding the hand of a kind nurse in Monterey.
This story doesn’t have to end with sadness. I have an amazing network here that could help me help others. In honor of my Mother, I would like to raise funds that will help improve hygiene for people living on the streets all over the world.
LavaMae is a non profit that helps launch mobile hygiene trailers and pop-up care villages globally. It provides showers, on-site checkups and portable hand-washing stations to help improve quality of life for those living houseless.
If you are able to this holiday season, please consider donating so that we can help keep people safe from preventable deaths with hygiene and regular check-ins. I know my Mom would have been grateful for the help.
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