Health

At Home with the Homeless: The State of the Homeless Address

For the past month, our shelter has been undergoing an epidemic of “shelter cough:” no fever, nausea, or symptoms other than nasal congestion and loud coughing with the expulsion of phlegm. When mentioned to staff and/or medical authorities on-site, the response is, “Oh, yeah, it’s going around.” (No surprise, given such close sleeping quarters.) The complainant is usually given cough syrup and antibiotics and told to report back if symptoms abate or continue. No talk of quarantine. Why? Because there are so many COVID cases, any on/off-site quarantining would be quickly overwhelmed. So, hit whatever it is with pills and syrup. No testing, no lung X-rays, no sputum cultures to find out what bug(s) is/are responsible. But if it were COVID –well, then you’d see some action.

What with the “shelter cough,” plus the viral trifecta of COVID, RSV, and influenza on the rampage, and the lights on 24/7 “for your protection,” it’s not a joy-joy existence for your own correspondent and his fellow shelter denizens. Proving that 24-hour lighting is cruel and unusual punishment under the Eighth Amendment has enough obstacles if you’re dealing with a prison environment; it’s never been case-tested in a voluntary environment like a shelter, probably because the response would be “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” So you’re given Hobson’s Choice between sleeping outdoors in dicey conditions at best or sleeping in an environment where the lights are never off, raising Hell with everyone’s circadian rhythms, and doing God knows what to people’s mental equilibrium. Life as a guinea pig. What prizes do we have for our vectors, Johnny?

In the usual spirit of giving credit where it’s due, this needs to be said. When the COVID epidemic hit, the CA Department of Social Services quickly recognized that homeless shelters were going to become primary transmission sites for the virus unless decisive action was taken immediately. So in March 2020, they began Project Roomkey, described in a press release “as part of the state response to the COVID-19 pandemic…to provide non-congregate shelter options, such as hotels and motels, for people experiencing homelessness, to protect human life, and to minimize strain on health care system capacity.”

Later that year, Project Roomkey was expanded and renamed Project Roomkey and Rehousing Strategy. Again, quoting from the press release: “This new phase of the program built on existing emergency shelter efforts while also supporting permanent transitions to safe and stable housing to ensure homelessness is non-recurring.” It sounds like a prudent and timely response to keeping unhoused persons as safe and healthy as possible during a global pandemic while also transitioning them to more permanent housing.

So why hasn’t your own correspon- dent mentioned this program before? For the simple reason that until he did a Google search on transitional housing in Orange County on January 1, 2024–as part of research for this column–he had no idea the program existed- ed. No housing navigator had mentioned it. No social services worker had vouchsafed its existence.

That’s one of the biggest frustrations of being homeless: there are programs out there that can be a big help, but unless you talk to the right person at the right time in the right office or you get lucky on a Google search, you probably won’t ever learn that they exist. Yours truly may not be the fastest gun on the prairie, but he does eventually get the information. It mainly requires persistence, persistence, and persistence. Also, a working phone and strong WiFi. But mostly persistence.

As anyone with a debilitating physical or mental illness will tell you, time and energy are not resources we have in abundance. This makes reliance on navigators and case managers all the more critical since we must hope that their working knowledge of the social services maze is greater than ours. If it isn’t, much of our limited energies can be wasted in wild goose chases for programs that a) no longer exist, b) exist but are closed to new subscribers, or c) never existed. It is no exaggeration to say that looking for housing, like looking for work, is a full-time job. The irony would be amusing if it weren’t literally sickening.

So, what is the status of Project Roomkey and (Re) Housing Strategy?

The Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority terminated the program in LA on September 30, 2022, leaving more than 10,000 unhoused persons without housing. LAHSA announced in November 2022 that “Project Roomkey led to more than 4,800 permanent housing placements since the program began in 2020.” Project participant Daniel Dickerson summed it up like this: “I can’t live anywhere… What audacity, too, think(ing) I should be allowed to live somewhere. I guess I should just go die somewhere. That’s what they want.”

Statewide, the California Department of Social Service announced that “Project Roomkey is in the process of determining the appropriate ramp-down schedule. The dates for site closures will vary based on local needs and are made in consultation with local emergency managers and public health departments.”

So, basically, the program is dead. Someone forgot to tell the COVID virus.


Discover more from Fullerton Observer

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.