My apartment building caught on fire over two weeks ago. It still doesn't seem real.
I was sitting at home on the phone with my friend when I smelled smoke. Heard the fire trucks. I thought it was coming from my kitchen. Never mind that it didn't make any sense as I wasn't cooking. I still checked. Then I opened the balcony door and looked out. To my right were clouds of billowing black smoke. I told Wendy, "I think my apartment building is on fire." I was right.
I ran back inside, yelling for my cats as I threw the phone on the bed, threw some clothes on, my work shirt (one-half of a pair of scrubs), and some workout leggings. I pulled the cat carrier into the living room, now frantically screaming the names of my cats. I grabbed one and tried to stuff her in. She wasn't having it. She clawed at me, drew blood. I screamed out the names of the others as the smell of smoke worsened, and began to grow heavy in the air. I struggled with Katerina who had a heavily inflamed third eyelid and was on three different medications, and had just spent time in that same cat carrier the other day on the way to the vet.
But I succeeded. She was in. She yowled and cried as I walked away, crying for the others. I couldn't find them. I couldn't find them. I searched under the bed, in the bathtub, in the closet. I went back and checked on a suddenly quiet Katerina. In my haste, I hadn't fully zipped the carrier, and she had escaped. There was more smoke, the smell was stronger, and I had none of my furbabies in this damn cat carrier that I had bought to contain them all, as crowded as they would be.
There was a banging on the door. I cried out: "I know! I need to get my cats!" I put my phone in my purse on the chair, easily accessible, and ran back into my bedroom, desperately searching for them, now screaming their names. I couldn't find them. I just could not. Another banging, a ringing of the doorbell. This time I ran to it and opened it. Dark smoke filled the air, debris falling, and firemen, three, four, I don't remember how many. They wanted me to come out. I wouldn't. I told them that I had to get my cats. I went back inside, they followed me, and bodily pulled me out. I asked them to get my purse, one did, thankfully. But my cats were left behind.
I was taken out. No shoes. No cats. Water was running in the parking lot and I turned to see half the building's roof ablaze. Someone was kind enough to give me an extra pair of shoes they had. I called my sister, my father. My boss. My stepsister came over. Five hours later the firemen finally stopped spraying water. They let me go in to try and get my cats. I couldn't find them. It was pitch dark and the voices of the others kept them hidden. Boards were put over my door and they were behind, but I got in alone two days later and I found them, alive, safe, although Katerina's eye was so much worse. $450.00 later at the vet, more medication and tests showed, it was still just a truly terrible inflammation, likely exacerbated by the smoke and missed doses. But they were all alive and safe.
My apartment didn't catch fire. It just suffered smoke damage. Everything reeks of smoke. The apartment building's power box was destroyed. The apartment I've called home for over 10 years is unlivable. I have a new apartment in the complex but moving into it has been and will be a nightmare. I'm still wraggling with the complex to get reports to get insurance started. I need to get the salvageable non-smoke-damaged furniture moved but in some storage unit until I can move into my place and cleaned. I need to get some new furniture--mattress, sofa, chairs. Some clothes, my goodness, how everything reeks of smoke.
I know that it could have been so much worse. I know that there are others in the apartment building who had it so much worse. I know that, but I just want to curl up into a ball and cry. I'm staying in a small bedroom in my dad and stepmom's home. Me and my cats. My family has been wonderful. I'm so grateful, but I'm tired. So tired. I can't sleep. I'm stressed, I don't know how I'm going to pay for moving, for furniture, for setting all of this up once everything settles down. My insurance claim can't even be processed without certain things and those things aren't available yet and my move date is less than a week away.
My friend, the one I was on the phone with, set up a gofundme, and I have paypal. It's been a little over two weeks and my life has been thoroughly disrupted. I don't know whether I'm coming or going. I just want this all to be over and to be on the other side of it, but it doesn't work that way. I have to get through it first. I have to. Any little bit, words of encouragement, experiences, would be helpful.
After the Fire: Help Rebuild Jennifer’s Life (GoFundMe)
Paypal: araybian at gmail dot com
