|
5.13.2001
Another
generation caught in a sad cycle
By
PETER B. LORD
Journal Environment Writer
PROVIDENCE
-- Shonnell Jordan bursts into the examination room, rushes by the doctor
and nurse, and grabs at toys, stethoscopes, tongue depressors -- anything
he can get his tiny hands on. He's small for a 3-year-old, but he's like
a miniature storm.
A nurse hands him raisins and they spill to the floor. He dives after them
and pops each one into his mouth. When she won't give him any more, he tries
to bite her.
Dr. James "Jeff" Brown, who has headed this clinic in Providence for 30
years, struggles to hold Shonnell with one hand, but he wriggles away. Finally
Dr. Brown sits down, pins Shonnell between his knees, quickly puts his stethoscope
to Shonnell's back and chest, and peers into his ears and mouth.
Shonnell seems healthy, but he won't stop moving. It is late July, a time
when many Rhode Island families are at the beach. But Shonnell visits doctors.
He was even hospitalized for three days, along with his sister.
He is lead poisoned.
So is his sister, Maurianna, now 2, and to a lesser extent, his brother,
Mark, now 3. So was their mother, Burnadette Jordan, when she was a child.
SHONNELL , WHO IS now 4, Maurianna and Mark are among nearly
3,000 Rhode Island children under the age of 6 who were diagnosed with lead
poisoning last year. They are also among the hundreds who were considered
significantly lead poisoned -- triggering mandatory state inspections of
their homes in a search for the cause.
Because state law requires that every child under 6 be tested annually for
lead, officials know that lead is harming children in nearly every Rhode
Island city and town. In 2000, the most recent period for which data is
available, lead-poisoned children were found in every community except New
Shoreham.
Lead poisoning is primarily caused by paint dust and flakes in houses coated
with lead-based paint, and that could be any house built before 1978, when
lead paint was banned, or about half of the state's 415,000 housing units.
Though average lead levels in children have dropped dramatically during
the last few decades -- coinciding with the phaseout of leaded gasoline
in the 1970s, and the phasing out of lead in cans and plumbing -- lead poisoning
continues to be a major problem in Rhode Island where there are a lot of
old, poorly maintained houses.
The rate of lead-poisoned children is 21/2 times higher in Rhode Island
than in the rest of the country. In Providence, the rate is four times higher
than the rest of the country.
This is a burden not equally
shared. Lead problems fall more heavily on members of minority groups living
in the cities. While 8 percent of the white children tested in 1999 were
lead poisoned, the figures soared to 16 percent for Hispanic children and
24 percent for black and Southeast Asian children. (Those percentages are
not yet available for 2000.)
In Pawtucket, 270 children were lead poisoned last year. In Woonsocket,
224 children were affected, and in Providence, the total was 1,227, or more
than 1 out of every 6 children tested.
Within 1,000 feet of the apartment in Providence where Shonnell and his
brother and sister lived, state Health Department records show that 55 other
children were lead poisoned in the last seven years.
Landlords deny it. The middle class ignores it. You can't see it. It's difficult
to describe.
But lead is a severe toxin, and lead poisoning is very real. The only way
to determine whether a child is lead poisoned is through a blood test. Lead
is particularly harmful to fetuses and babies, altering both the cell structures
and chemistry of their brains.
It lowers intelligence, can lead to kidney failure, and causes learning
problems. It poses the greatest threat to toddlers, because they are the
most apt to put things into their mouths and because their young brains
are still developing, and lead blocks that process.
| |
 |
| |
|
LEAD
(led) n. 1. Symbol Pb
A dense metallic element used in solder, radiation shields,
paints, and antiknock compounds.
|
|
| |
 |
Many environmental and health experts rank lead poisoning as the state's
number-one environmental threat. Atty. Gen. Sheldon Whitehouse calls the
poisonings "a public health crisis."
MOST EXPERTS also agree that lead poisoning remains one of Rhode
Island's least noticed public health problems.
Unlike West Nile virus, which captured headlines and dominated news reports
last year though not a single person in Rhode Island was stricken, lead
poisoning has not drawn the public's attention. The General Assembly has
for the last several years rejected most bills aimed at mandating landlords
to clean up their properties.
That is not to say nothing is being done.
Tens of millions of tax dollars have been spent trying to solve the lead
problem in Rhode Island, and a dozen federal, state, and local agencies
are working on it.
So why do the poisonings continue?
"We have the oldest housing stock and one of the weakest laws in the country
(to protect people from lead poisoning)," says Richard H. Godfrey Jr.,
executive director of the Rhode Island Housing and Mortgage Finance Corporation.
He predicts it will cost billions of dollars to solve the state's lead
problems.
Another cause for the continued poisonings is "structural racism," according
to Liana Cassar, director of the HELP Lead Safe Center, which was formed
two years ago by a coalition of local hospitals and educational institutions
to combat lead poisoning.
"If we had a boarded house on Thayer Street, neighbors would be up in
arms and have the political power to do something . . . which you can't
do on Pine Street. It's acceptable to have lower standards in this community,"
she says of the neighborhood surrounding her offices in Elmwood.
"Lead is probably one of the most potent toxins in the world and it's
still out there in our neighborhoods," says U.S. Sen. Jack Reed. "It's
just so frustrating because this is simple stuff. You keep children away
from lead poisoning and you improve their chances for an education, for
a good life, to be a good citizen."
FOR BURNADETTE Jordan, lead poisoning is anything but simple.
For her it has been countless trips to doctors. Painful legs. Hurtful
remarks. Trouble learning. And last summer, after she moved to her own
apartment, it swept up her children and promised to bring the misery to
another generation.
It was a summer she'd just as soon forget, but she talked about it last
fall, after she had moved to the security of a relative's house in Silver
Lake.
Her mother came by to watch the kids, as she does every day to give Jordan
a break. The living room is neat, but dark. The curtains are drawn, blocking
views of a street with more boarded windows than trees or shrubs. The
only light comes from a large-screen television showing quiz shows that
no one watches.
Jordan is well-spoken, and it's clear her children are her life.
She says she is looking forward to this new year, when she hopes to enroll
her children in a Head Start program and go back to school herself to
earn her high school equivalency diploma.
Her dream, she says, is to learn how to work on computers. And she wants
a cottage -- with a big back yard where the soil is free of lead so the
kids can play outdoors.
She had similar dreams when she moved out of her mother's house. She had
recently given birth to Maurianna, and she wanted to live on her own.
So she found a two-bedroom apartment at 5 Gordon Ave., next door to her
grandmother. Between the two houses was a cement sidewalk. On both sides,
the grass had been worn away, leaving packed dirt where the kids rode
their bikes and drove their trucks and tractors.
It didn't look like much, but at least she would be on her own.
As soon as they moved in, the gas man disconnected the stove because it
was burning "like a bonfire," Jordan recalls. That was just the start
of her problems.
"It was going to be my own experience," she says. "But it was a bad one."
When the sink broke, she fixed it.
When the bathroom pipes burst, she showered at her grandmother's house.
When the heat came on, paint on the walls cracked.
Then came the visit to the doctor. It was supposed to be routine. But
the doctor discovered that Maurianna was lead poisoned.
Ten micrograms of lead per deciliter of blood, or 10 ug/dl, indicates
a child has been exposed to enough lead to be considered poisoned; 20
ug/dl means a child is significantly poisoned, prompting an automatic
inspection of the child's home by the state Health Department. Levels
at or above 45 require urgent medical attention.
Maurianna had a level of 54. The doctor suggested that Jordan bring the
boys in. Shonnell was at 68 and Mark was at 23.
Shonnell and Maurianna were quickly admitted to Hasbro Children's Hospital.
They were subjected to chelation treatment -- in which drugs bind to the
lead molecules in the blood and soft tissues and allow the molecules to
be excreted when a patient urinates. Chelation doesn't reach lead stored
in bones, so often lead levels rebound somewhat after treatment as lead
from the bones flows back into the blood and soft tissues. Nevertheless,
chelation is the weapon of choice for patients who are severely poisoned.
Maurianna was so thin doctors had to attach the intravenous needle to
her leg. A splint was taped to her calf to keep the needle secure. When
she tried to play, she dragged her leg around as though it were broken.
Shonnell was so wild, the staff secured him to his bed. He squirmed and
twisted and moaned. But when nurses let him free, he was so frantic he
nearly pulled the needle out.
"It was hell on them," Jordan recalls. The kids were scared of the hospital.
And the treatment hurt.
It was hell on Jordan, too. She has no car, so she counted on family members
to drive her to the hospital. The children cried each time she left them.
Jordan said an inspector for the state Health Department examined her
apartment last summer, found high lead levels everywhere, and recommended
that she not return after the children were discharged from the hospital.
She asked the landlord, Reynaldo Maldonado, to clean up the lead problems.
But she said he just "slapped up a few patches."
Then she called the city's Code Enforcement Division. But, officials there
believe it's the state's job to inspect for lead, not the city's. Nevertheless,
an inspector came and condemned the apartment, citing faulty wiring.
The inspector also cited Maldonado for garbage in the yard and basement,
missing flooring in the kitchen and bedroom, a missing closet door, a
broken oven door, missing and torn wallpaper throughout the apartment,
a burned electrical outlet, plumbing leaking into the basement and rodents
in Jordan's first-floor apartment.
The file for the house is currently missing from the Providence Code Enforcement
Division. A computer printout says Maldonado fixed some of the problems,
but he didn't take care of the rodents or the deteriorated woodwork or
floors.
The investigation by the state Health Department remains open, so the
department, citing confidentiality rules, won't talk about it. A spokesman
reported that the case has not been referred for prosecution, and suggested
it may still be open because the landlord has applied for federal money
to fix up the apartment.
Maldonado could not be reached for comment for this story.
THE JORDAN family moved on.
After their three-day hospital stay, Shonnell, Maurianna, Mark, and Burnadette
Jordan became the first family to move into a new, lead-free apartment
on Broad Street, provided by Health and Education Leadership for Providence.
Along with three small apartments that offer temporary shelter to families
with lead poisoning, HELP's Lead Safe Center provides a clinic and counseling
services for the affected families, and assists landlords in making their
houses safe.
As soon as Jordan moved into the temporary shelter, she began looking
for another place to live. She found there weren't many choices -- there
is a shortage of inexpensive apartments in Providence, particularly for
families with children.
She says she offered one landlord every penny she could raise, $750, as
security and first month's rent for a second-floor apartment on Harrison
Street.
She said the landlord promised to turn on the electricity and water. But
he never did. And he wouldn't give back her money. She sought reimbursement
in District Court, but sheriffs were unable to serve the landlord at the
address Jordan supplied, so the case went nowhere. The house remains empty
and the utilities disconnected, according to the city's Code Enforcement
Division.
So Jordan is stuck.
"Basically, everybody is giving me the runaround," she observed during
the interview last fall.
Every now and then, one of her children wanders in from another room.
Maurianna cuddles, or climbs into a nearby cabinet, she's so tiny. Once
Shonnell races into the room, dives onto a visitor's lap, and rips his
glasses off. It takes some effort to pry them away from his grip.
At his worst, Shonnell put his fist through the glass of his grandmother's
aquarium.
He kicked his mother in the face so hard she looked like she had stuffed
her cheek with candy.
He used to read his books, says his mother. After he was lead poisoned,
he was throwing them across the room.
In early January, Jordan had some good news at last. Shonnell's blood-lead
level was down to 30 and Maurianna's was down to 24.
After several efforts to find a medication and dosage that would calm
Shonnell down, Dr. Brown finally settled on one that seems to work.
But some problems continue.
Jordan hasn't been able to find her own apartment. She got on a list for
subsidized housing in Cumberland. Her place on the list was 88.
"Basically, I'm just sitting here, waiting," Jordan says.
Two weeks ago, she took Shonnell to a Little League tryout. He likes to
play and he has lots of energy, she says.
But as they were waiting to sign him up, Shonnell tried to bite his mother.
The coaches saw it and decided not to let him play. They told her they
didn't want to risk having him with other children.
So she takes him to parks to play instead.
And she keeps looking for an apartment.
Jordan has spent eight months at her grandfather's house, in Silver Lake.
She remains on the waiting list for subsidized housing in Cumberland,
a town she sought out because the housing prospects seem better. She also
keeps searching in Providence for an apartment.
Jordan hopes to go back to school one day so she can get a good job. But
first, she has to get her children into school.
Shonnell was admitted into Head Start earlier this month. She hopes to
enroll the other two into Head Start in the fall, too.
She really wants a home of her own.
But she has nowhere to go.
"I hate it," she says.
CLICK
HERE FOR PRINTER FRIENDLY VERSION
|
