Help Terry & Tom Heal: Restore Safe Home for Ill Teacher

Summary

This GoFundMe page is to help my mom, who was once a beloved teacher and pillar of our community, but is now battling severe health issues due to mold exposure in our home and potential early onset dementia. Over the past five years, she has suffered from memory loss and cognitive decline, eventually being diagnosed with Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (CIRS). The mold has made her condition worse, and without financial support, we can’t afford the necessary $20,000 to both fix our home and fund the things necessary to give her a chance at recovery like doctor's appointments and medical bills. My dad, who has become her full-time caregiver, is struggling with the immense stress, both emotionally and financially. I’m asking for help from our community to give my mom and dad the peace and safety they desperately need, as they’ve always given so much to others.

My Mom

When I ask my family about my mom when she was younger, they tell me about a quiet little blonde girl who wore overalls, who wanted to own a truck and who dreamed of one day baking cookies for her kids when they came home from school. I am told how she imagined falling in love, building a family, and guiding her children as they grew. She trusted that kindness and generosity would guide her; that by caring for others, she would be taken care of in return. After all, isn't that the promise we make to our children?

I think about that little girl - and this promise - a lot these days when I sit with my mom. I think about all the dreams she had for herself, all the hopes she carried for the future, and the life she believed she would have. I think about all the moments my dad, sisters and I imagined in our future with her, too. Dreams of growing old together, sitting together for coffee as adults, calling her to get advice, and sharing the milestones of our lives with her. I also watch my peers getting to know their mothers as friends and, even though I can sit right next to her, I realize how little I will ever know about my own mom.

Terry's Impact

5 years ago, my mom was known in our community as Mrs. Dann, beloved teacher in Sacopee Valley. She had an impact on countless children’s lives. I remember walking through our local supermarket with her and seeing former students stop her to say thank you and reminisce about how much she’d meant to them. She was the teacher who gave her own money to buy supplies for kids who didn’t have enough. The teacher who quietly sent food home with students who were going without in a community who saw too much struggle. She was the teacher who always gave, even though she worried about how she was going feed her own family.

At home, my mom was the glue that held everyone together. She was always there, showing up for every event, every practice, every competition, every game. She drove my sisters and me an hour each way to a baton practice each week for over 10 years years. She even drove 5-1/2 hours to Limestone to be there for me while I got ready for Prom at boarding school. No matter how far, no matter how many hours on the road, she was there for us. And more than just attending her kids’ events, she made sure everyone knew how loved they were. She remembered every extended family member’s birthday, every special occasion, and kept us in touch with our loved ones. She was a constant presence in the lives of countless people.

Our Journey

Around 5 years ago, however, things started to change. Slowly at first, and then all at once. The teacher who taught kids to read, write, add and subtract, suddenly couldn’t even spell the word “bagel” on a shopping list. Although she was once able to easily pen progress reports for 15+ students a year, now she couldn’t even write her own name. As a result, she was asked to resign from her teaching job, with the promise that resigning would make it easier for her to get a new job once she was better. But that day never came, and she was left ineligible for unemployment assistance. Fast forward just a couple years and the person who held our family together couldn't fully understand what it meant when we told her both of her sisters passed away. My mom, who taught me to use a spoon, couldn't even operate a light switch. It wasn’t just memory loss—what made her "Terry" had slipped away, and we couldn’t figure out why. We saw doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, but no one could give us a clear answer.

The last five years have been a blur of appointments, tests, and uncertainty. My dad, Tom, has stepped up into the role of full-time caretaker, trying to keep everything afloat while also managing his job and their finances. The path has been tricky and navigating this sudden change hasn't been easy; it's his first time living this life too.

My parents, like so many others, have always struggled financially. But they worked hard in the years before all this happened to build some stability, doing everything they tell you to, only to see it slowly slip away. My dad now cares for my mom full-time, encouraging his kids to stay out in the world to pursue their passions, and pours everything into keeping her as healthy as possible while also working, supporting a team of athletes as a coach and mentor, and struggling with the effects of the stress on his health. Despite this, their financial situation has worsened. They’ve fallen behind on bills and stress each month about their ability to keep a roof over their heads. They’re stuck.

Diagnosis

Fortunately, we now know more about what is wrong with my mom. In addition to a neurologist confirming indications of early onset dementia, unknown mold in our home has been poisoning her for years. Because of a rare gene she carries, her body couldn’t fight the toxins and she has developed CIRS, which may have also triggered dementia. Despite this 5 year battle, however, we still don't have all the answers and doctors have not yet signed a document stating that she’s permanently disabled. “We need more tests” they tell us, but with slow follow through on results, high costs and appointments that are scheduled a full year away, any financial help to make it through years of these tests seems a distant dream. This has left her ineligible for disability benefits even though she can’t so much as dress herself anymore.

Where We Are Now

My mom is frail. She can’t care for herself, forgetting to eat or drink when my dad is at work. My dad is under an immense amount of pressure, a huge stress on his health, with no hope of support from the bigger systems. My mom knows this, and is desperate to, in her own words, “just be normal” again. The house she once filled with love has become the place that is slowly killing her. The mold is worsening her condition every day, and yet, we can’t afford to make the repairs, buy a new home, or pay for her treatment. Even if there were hope for her to get better, it would be impossible in their current living situation. What makes this complicated is: they cannot get financial support until they know she won't get better, but she has no hope of getting better without financial support. According to doctors, the only way she will stop getting worse is by addressing the mold in our home. But the cost is staggering—a minimum of $20,000 to remediate the house and replace furniture, and this is on top of all the day to day expenses they can no longer afford. Without this remediation, however, my mom’s health will continue to decline and their financial crisis will only get worse.

This is a woman who gave everything to her family, her students, and her community; who sacrificed so much for others. Now, she and my dad can't even get help from the systems that are supposed to be there to support the type of good, hardworking people they have dedicated their life to being. Now, I’m asking for our community's help to give her and my dad the chance to be safe and find some peace in their lives. I know everyone is struggling financially right now, but if there is any support you can provide, even just by sharing this story to people who may not know us, please do. I hope that together, we can make their home safe again so that, at the very least, the little kids they once were can have the hope of the future they dreamed of.