Living in limbo: Cape woman still staying with sister after March basement flood

Judy Patterson's FEMA check arrived Wednesday: $1,024.

"I'm not happy about it. It's not going to cover everything," the 59-year-old said.

Until March 22, Patterson, who is hearing-impaired, lived a fairly independent life, caring for her two cats, playing card games on her computer and chatting with friends over the Internet. She used her late father's car to run errands.

Then the basement flooded after the March 18 rain. For the next two days, floating possessions bumping into each other were inaudible to Patterson. She didn't see the mess. Arthritis and degenerative disc disease prevent her from using the stairs.

A part-time health aide discovered the flood when she arrived to help with laundry and housekeeping. That's when Sharon Wickham's phone rang.

Wickham, 61, is Patterson's only sibling, a widow with six cats living near her two grown daughters and two granddaughters. She and her sister have always been close, Wickham said. She remembers helping Judy with her speech therapy, teaching her how to read lips. They have been sharing Wickham's Lisa Street home in Cape Girardeau since March 22.

After the flooded basement was discovered, Patterson hesitated to leave her home at 937 Hawthorne Road on Cape Girardeau's west side.

"She stayed here for a week after this happened. Finally we said, 'You have to get out,'" Wickham said.

They make periodic trips to Patterson's house. In the beginning, Wickham, who has a knee injury that requires surgery, hauled what she could up the stairs. Family friends Al and Joan Mason helped them try to vacuum the remaining standing water.

After her flood, Patterson drove down to the closest FEMA disaster recovery center, in Advance, Mo.

"They told her they couldn't help her because the Cape Girardeau center hadn't opened yet," Wickham said. The sisters were among the first to visit the FEMA center that opened April 8 in Jackson.

Patterson did not have flood insurance. She said her agent, Bo Shantz, brought a Teen Challenge group out to help empty her basement. He lent her a dehumidifier and a fan for drying out the basement.

He estimated she lost nearly $3,000 in possessions; finishing the cleanup could cost from $500 to $1,500, he said, depending on whether she can find people to help her finish gutting the basement.

He said furnaces often survive floods, but water heaters do not. They are the two appliances FEMA will pay to replace -- if the homeowner has flood insurance.

In any case, Patterson worries over repair costs. She's afraid to use the FEMA check, which arrived with a note saying not to use it until a FEMA letter arrived with instructions.

Jack Heesch, a FEMA spokesman, said it's unusual that Patterson received her check before the instruction letter.

He said nothing is stopping her from spending the money, but it must be used to make her home livable again. People who don't spend the check for its intended purpose face having to repay the money, he said.

The question about when and how to spend the FEMA check is far from Patterson's biggest obstacle. After moving into Wickham's home, Patterson tried to use the stairs. She fell, breaking two bones in her left wrist and bruising her chin.

"She's on Medicaid," Wickham said. "No orthopedist in town would see her. No one in St. Louis would accept her, so I'm having to take her to Hayti, an hour-and-20-minute drive, every time. It's sad the doctors around here won't take Medicaid."

If it hadn't been for two aunts, Patterson may never have lived independently.

She stayed with her parents until her mom went into a nursing home and her father required kidney dialysis. That's when the aunts got involved, taking in Patterson and her dad. He died in 1997. The aunts died in 2001.

So Patterson learned to live on her own, with some part-time hired home health workers and visits from her sister, a retired licensed practical nurse who works part time at Wal-Mart.

"She can do a daily routine, but if anything goes wrong, she doesn't know how to handle it," Wickham said.

On Thursday, Patterson and Wickham visited the Hawthorne Road house. The basement shower is still caked with mud; mold is visible along seams in the remaining paneling. Upstairs, the basement's dank smell is invading rooms where furniture is accented with colorful afghans, the walls bear Thomas Kincade reproductions and the floors are covered in tile or white carpet.

Sitting at her dining room table -- with the patio door open to allow fresh air in -- Patterson pays more than $200 in utilities with her monthly $637 Social Security check. She hesitates to disconnect services, knowing there will be a reconnection fee if she ever gets back home.

"She's in limbo. She doesn't know what she's going to do, if she has to move out or what," Wickham said. For now, Patterson and Wickham live with a gentle ebb and flow of hope.

"I probably won't change my mind because there's going to be so much different, so much that has to be done that I won't be able to afford," Patterson said, defeat welling up in her voice. "So I'll probably go ahead and sell out anyway."

Her sister reaches a hand halfway across the table.

"I know, but maybe not," Wickham said. "We'll see."

pmcnichol@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 127