After decades spent in shelters, Mary Millett, 67, has a permanent roof over her head, a bed with a mattress and a door she can lock. Her new digs are thanks to Plymouth Housing Group, a non profit, which recently opened a 92-unit apartment building in downtown Seattle for older homeless adults.Mike Siegel / The Seattle Times
At last, a place of her own
By Marsha King, Seattle Times staff reporter
SEATTLE, Washington (The Seattle Times), February 19, 2008:
For the first time in years, Mary Millett, 67, has a permanent roof over her head, a bathroom of her own and a door she can lock.
But after a decade spent in homeless shelters, she is finding her first weeks in a studio apartment both exhilarating and unsettling.
Millett's new digs are in a recently opened apartment building in downtown Seattle for those 55 and older who've been living in shelters, cars or on the streets.
What she's finding is that leaving a long-familiar way of life — even if it's homelessness — can be disorienting, as if something's suddenly missing.
"It's a new experience," Millett explains. "Getting your emotions in tow is the problem."
The $26 million apartment project reflects heightened concerns about the aging of the area's homeless population. Shelter and medical-clinic staffs say they are seeing more older adults with no place to go and with complex health needs that are difficult to meet.
A fifth of the more than 4,300 people using shelters or transitional housing are 55 or older, with unknown numbers of others living on the streets, according to new King County data.
"As baby boomers are aging, so is the homeless population," said Paul Lambros, executive director of the nonprofit Plymouth Housing Group.
Plymouth built and now operates the new Langdon and Anne Simons Senior Apartments, at 2119 Third Avenue, where Millett has moved. Opened in mid-January, it was built with grant money and $12 million in private donations. It has 92 units, with about 20 set aside for homeless veterans. Residents pay 30 percent of their income toward rent. For most, monthly income ranges between $300 and $600. The project has a nurse, as well as case managers with expertise in geriatrics, mental health, chemical- dependence recovery and veterans issues.
"It's hard; it's not easy"
Mary Millett chats with a fellow resident, Andrew Meehan, in a common room that comes complete with a fireplace.Homelessness often devastates people's health, aging them faster and making them vulnerable to conditions such as diabetes, heart disease, and skin and teeth problems. "Believe me. It's hard. It is not easy," said Andrew Meehan, 56, who receives kidney dialysis three days a week and also just moved into the Simons apartments. When he was homeless, he camped out near Green Lake, stayed in shelters or slept in doorways, unless he happened to have the money for a hotel room.
"More and more, we're seeing people with really significant medical problems," said Dr. Nancy Sugg, medical director of Harborview Medical Center's Pioneer Square Clinic.
Shelters are struggling to manage, she said, but sometimes don't have the staff to help an older incontinent person change clothes or take medications correctly.
Public Health — Seattle & King County rents space in a shelter for a respite program that offers 22 beds to homeless people who need a place to recuperate after an acute illness. Some 43 percent of those beds are filled with people over 50.
But the program offers only medical oversight during the day, so many older people with serious needs — such as IV therapy or dressings that need to be changed frequently — go unserved. Even simple needs — taking a shower, washing clothes or finding a bathroom — can be more daunting for a homeless senior, as can the ordinary memory lapses that come with aging.
"If you lock your keys in the car and that's where you live, then that's a different thing," explained another new resident. The question becomes: "Can I trust myself to get through the day?"
Fresh start
The greatest difficulty for an older person may be keeping up hope. After years in shelters, some come to accept as permanent what they once saw as temporary.
Mary Millett tells of growing up in Seattle, where she and her brother lived with their parents until their house burned down about 10 years ago.
After both parents passed away, Millett, who'd done office work, sold herbs and taught a little music, began staying with one friend and then another. Eventually, she slipped into the shelter life.
Now she's starting anew.
"I've had to learn to reclaim my own space," she said. While she likes having the freedom to wake up when she wants and room to set out her numerous books and favorite decorative objects, she misses the camaraderie of chatting at dinner and sleeping in "the dorm," as she calls the shelter.
"There's one thing you have in your own place," she said. "You have this thing called loneliness."
A couple of times, she's toyed with moving back to the shelter. Recently, she returned to have dinner but it just didn't feel like a good fit anymore. The food was sort of greasy and the people seemed stuck "in a sea of turmoil."
That experience helped cement her commitment to independence.
She's signed up for a private telephone, her first in years. And a longtime friend is coming by to help her learn to cook for herself again.
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Company
