Weary woman - She who dedicated life to others now seeks help

[Guest guest]

Weary woman

She who dedicated life to others now seeks help

Neighbor to Neighbor helps Salvation Army help others

By CINTHIA RITCHIE

Anchorage Daily News

(Published: December 5, 2004)

Donna Crawford built a career on helping people through the Salvation Army.

She doesn't know how she contracted hepatitis C, but she lives with it now

and, unable to work, requires help herself. Neighbor to Neighbor assists

with medication costs. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neighbor to Neighbor recipient Donna Crawford has hepatitis C and is unable

to work. She has trouble finding ways to pay for all the medication she

needs. The worst part of her disease, she says, is an agonizing itch that

nothing, even scratching, can relieve. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily

News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorothy Crawford, Donna's mother, lives across the hall and helps Donna when

she can. " The girl is sick, " Dorothy said, " and she's not covered. It's just

not right. "

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late morning arrives in Donna Crawford's Mountain View apartment. The room

is dim, the furniture worn but comfortable, the TV turned to court shows

that blend one into another: Judge Hatchett, Judge Mathis, Judge Judy. Over

by the window, plants climb across shelves, and every so often, a clock

chimes out a muffled, soft note.

Crawford, 49, sits in a green chair next to the fireplace, her hair done up

in neat braids. She's wearing a bright red T-shirt, and her slippered feet

tap against the faded carpet. From a distance, she could be any woman

lounging her way through the morning. Step closer, though, and the weariness

begins to show in the tilt of her head, the slump of her shoulders, the way

her arms hang loosely at her sides, as if she hasn't the energy to lift them

up.

Some days, she says, she hasn't.

Six years ago, Crawford was diagnosed with hepatitis C, an inflammation of

the liver. The subsequent fatigue, compounded by arthritis, bipolar disorder

and high blood pressure, often proves overwhelming. She is no longer able to

work or do many of the things she once enjoyed, such as camping and bowling;

if she manages to walk a few blocks, she considers it a good day. Most of

the time, she stays inside her apartment listening to music and watching TV.

She favors court dramas and news shows, loves watching movies. She sleeps

periodically throughout the day, catching a nap every five or six hours. It

isn't the life she imagined for herself, but still, she says, there are

always things for her to do. Except on the days she's unable to get out of

bed. Those times, she says, are hard, and what she does to get through them

is call on friends.

" I tell them, 'I'm having a really rough day. Can you come over?' Some days

I need help getting to the bathroom. That's when it's really bad. "

She recently needed more help than friends could provide when she found out

that the liver medication she needed to ease her hepatitis symptoms wasn't

covered by Chronic and Acute Medical Assistance, the state-funded program

set up to help needy Alaskans. Because CAMA only covers specific conditions,

of which hepatitis isn't included, Crawford was stuck with a prescription

that cost almost as much as her $280-a-month disability check. She ended up

asking for help at the Salvation Army, where she had worked for 11 years

before resigning because of health problems in 1999. Money provided from the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund quickly took care of her prescription needs. The

irony of finding herself at the other end of the spectrum isn't lost on

Crawford.

" It was humbling, " she said. " I felt ashamed. It was like, 'My goodness, I

have to ask them for help.' I could have grabbed Kathy (Lytle, case worker)

and kissed her. I was so desperate. "

COMING NORTH

Crawford came to Alaska from New York City in 1986 after serving a stint in

the Army Reserves. Her mother and sister had moved up a few years before,

and the first time Crawford visited, she felt as if she had found her true

home.

" It was the calmness, " she said. " Everything was quieter, slower-paced. And

the people, they were so neighborly. "

She worked a variety of odd jobs before landing a receptionist position at

the Salvation Army in 1988, moving her way up to resident coordinator,

manager and finally supervisor. She worked with the homeless, conducted

seminars on AIDS awareness and advocated everything from recovery programs

to improving life for seniors. She says she misses those times, misses her

links to the community and the way it felt to know she was helping people

through some of the toughest and messiest times of their lives.

" Even now, " she said, " people still tell me when they see me how much I've

helped them. I'm grateful and proud and happy. "

Case manager Kathy Lytle, who remembers when Crawford was her supervisor,

gives high marks for her friendly and compassionate interaction with

clients.

" Just because someone is down and out doesn't mean they can't be treated

with respect, " Lytle said, " and that was pretty much how she worked her

job. "

SHOCKING DIAGNOSIS

When Crawford found out she had hepatitis C during routine lab work, she was

stunned. She's not certain how she got it, but wonders whether a visit to an

acupuncturist six or seven years ago might have had something to do with it.

Hepatitis C is spread through direct or indirect exposure to infected blood.

It can be contracted through poorly sterilized medical instruments,

intravenous drug use, tattooing with contaminated needles, blood spills,

contaminated blood transfusions (blood supplies have been tested for the

hepatitis C virus since 1990), shared razors or toothbrushes, and sexual

activity.

Ten percent of those with the illness never find out how they got the

disease, and it can take up to 20 years for symptoms to appear. According to

the National Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 70 percent

will develop liver disease.

As Crawford's hepatitis progressed, the fatigue led her to resign from her

Salvation Army position. She tried her hand at other, less demanding jobs

only to discover that her energy levels were too low. She felt, she said,

" totally shut down " and fell into a deep depression.

" Mostly, I was angry. Why did this have to happen to me? " she said. " I have

a lot to offer. "

UNBEARABLE ITCHING

Crawford's mother, Dorothy, who lives across the hall, agrees. She leaves

her computer pinochle game and plops down in a chair for a nice long chat.

She wears a purple bathrobe, the legs of her white, satiny pajamas sticking

out the bottom. Her earrings swing back and forth as she talks about the

frustration of watching her daughter struggle with her health, struggle with

the mounting bills, struggle to acquire the medications she needs but can't

afford.

" Oh, man, we do the best we can, " Dorothy said. " If she needs meals, we

cook. If she's down, we help her out. But look at her. The girl is sick, and

she's not covered. It's just not right. "

Crawford believes that itching is the most agonizing part of hepatitis. The

cause of the intense itch associated with liver disease is still being

researched in clinical trials at Columbia University, but studies there

suggest it may be triggered when plasma substances accumulate in the blood.

Crawford describes the itching as unbearable, and lotions, ointments and

scratching fail to bring relief.

" I thought, 'If I don't get help with this, I'll be out on the street buck

naked scratching on the ground. It makes you that crazy. "

" Oh, baby, " Dorothy piped in, " that itching makes me nervous. "

Crawford says she has found relief from a drug prescribed by her doctor,

Gerry Sahagun, called Ursodiol, a naturally occurring bile salt used in the

treatment of liver cirrhosis.

Crawford holds up the squarish bottle of Ursodiol and shakes it lightly.

This is the medication paid for through the Salvation Army's Neighbor to

Neighbor funds, and it's almost gone.

" I have maybe 20 left, " she said. " I can't afford more. So when it's gone,

it's gone. "

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

What Crawford hopes is to apply for both Medicaid and Social Security

benefits so that she can begin to get on with her life. As it is now, she's

taking half-doses of medications not covered by CAMA, stretching them out to

two times a day instead of three in hopes that they'll last longer.

" I'm afraid of what happens then, " she said in a low voice.

Once her health improves, she hopes to return to advocating for those who

need help, but this time it will be for people with hepatitis C. People

don't have the right information, she says. They tend to get it mixed up

with AIDS, and when she mentions that she has it, they often step back,

afraid they might catch it. It's a blood virus, she explains, not something

you can get from sneezing or shaking hands. Still, she says, people

misunderstand, and she believes it's her job to educate them.

" Even when I'm not mobile, " she said, " I can still use the phone.

" Baby, " Dorothy suddenly interrupted. " Your plants look like they need a

good watering. "

" Mother, " Crawford said, her voice rising. Then she sighs and explains how

all of this has taught her to have more respect for her body, how she used

to take it for granted but now sees it as a small miracle, every pore and

every vein there for a reason.

While there are days when she gets depressed, there are also days when she

wonders whether this might turn out to be " a blessing in disguise. " After

all, she's been trained to rally around and help others, and maybe it's time

to learn to do the same for herself. She envisions hepatitis sufferers

banding together to encourage and cheer each other on. And, she says with a

shrug, who knows? Maybe they'll even come up with a new drug or a cure five

or six years down the road.

" Oh, baby girl, " Dorothy said. " I had me a party, 75 years of life. I want

you to do the same. "

Reporter Cinthia Ritchie can be reached at critchie@....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHANGING LIVES: The Salvation Army has been in Alaska since 1898, helping

people who are less fortunate in the community.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is it? Neighbor to Neighbor works with local social service agencies

to provide a range of goods and services for the poor when no other funding

is available. Only Alaskans benefit. The fund was created as a nonprofit in

1984 by the Daily News. It is separate from the newspaper and has raised

more than $1.4 million to date. The nine agencies from last year are

continuing this year: Catholic Social Services, Lutheran Social Services,

the Salvation Army, Valley agencies Kids are People Inc. and Alaska Family

Resource Center, Alaska Native Justice Center Inc., Alaskan AIDS Assistance

Association (Four A's), Hospice of Anchorage and Abused Women's Aid In

Crisis Inc. (AWAIC).

Where donations go: Every cent goes directly to agencies providing grants

to people and families in need. No funds go to overhead or administration at

either the Daily News or the receiving agencies.

Rules: No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions to the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund. This fund is a 501©3 organization, and

donations are tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. For information,

call Ildi Geuss, community relations coordinator, at 257-4278.

Online: Neighbor to Neighbor stories and donation forms are at

www.adn.com/neighbor. Donations also can be made online at adnstore.com.

Contributions: Use the donation form on Page E-6.

By check, mail to:

Neighbor to Neighbor Fund

Anchorage Daily News

P.O. Box 149001

Anchorage, AK 99514-9001

By credit card:

Call 257-4278, stop by our office at 1001 Northway Drive or donate online.

[Guest guest]

Weary woman

She who dedicated life to others now seeks help

Neighbor to Neighbor helps Salvation Army help others

By CINTHIA RITCHIE

Anchorage Daily News

(Published: December 5, 2004)

Donna Crawford built a career on helping people through the Salvation Army.

She doesn't know how she contracted hepatitis C, but she lives with it now

and, unable to work, requires help herself. Neighbor to Neighbor assists

with medication costs. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neighbor to Neighbor recipient Donna Crawford has hepatitis C and is unable

to work. She has trouble finding ways to pay for all the medication she

needs. The worst part of her disease, she says, is an agonizing itch that

nothing, even scratching, can relieve. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily

News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorothy Crawford, Donna's mother, lives across the hall and helps Donna when

she can. " The girl is sick, " Dorothy said, " and she's not covered. It's just

not right. "

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late morning arrives in Donna Crawford's Mountain View apartment. The room

is dim, the furniture worn but comfortable, the TV turned to court shows

that blend one into another: Judge Hatchett, Judge Mathis, Judge Judy. Over

by the window, plants climb across shelves, and every so often, a clock

chimes out a muffled, soft note.

Crawford, 49, sits in a green chair next to the fireplace, her hair done up

in neat braids. She's wearing a bright red T-shirt, and her slippered feet

tap against the faded carpet. From a distance, she could be any woman

lounging her way through the morning. Step closer, though, and the weariness

begins to show in the tilt of her head, the slump of her shoulders, the way

her arms hang loosely at her sides, as if she hasn't the energy to lift them

up.

Some days, she says, she hasn't.

Six years ago, Crawford was diagnosed with hepatitis C, an inflammation of

the liver. The subsequent fatigue, compounded by arthritis, bipolar disorder

and high blood pressure, often proves overwhelming. She is no longer able to

work or do many of the things she once enjoyed, such as camping and bowling;

if she manages to walk a few blocks, she considers it a good day. Most of

the time, she stays inside her apartment listening to music and watching TV.

She favors court dramas and news shows, loves watching movies. She sleeps

periodically throughout the day, catching a nap every five or six hours. It

isn't the life she imagined for herself, but still, she says, there are

always things for her to do. Except on the days she's unable to get out of

bed. Those times, she says, are hard, and what she does to get through them

is call on friends.

" I tell them, 'I'm having a really rough day. Can you come over?' Some days

I need help getting to the bathroom. That's when it's really bad. "

She recently needed more help than friends could provide when she found out

that the liver medication she needed to ease her hepatitis symptoms wasn't

covered by Chronic and Acute Medical Assistance, the state-funded program

set up to help needy Alaskans. Because CAMA only covers specific conditions,

of which hepatitis isn't included, Crawford was stuck with a prescription

that cost almost as much as her $280-a-month disability check. She ended up

asking for help at the Salvation Army, where she had worked for 11 years

before resigning because of health problems in 1999. Money provided from the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund quickly took care of her prescription needs. The

irony of finding herself at the other end of the spectrum isn't lost on

Crawford.

" It was humbling, " she said. " I felt ashamed. It was like, 'My goodness, I

have to ask them for help.' I could have grabbed Kathy (Lytle, case worker)

and kissed her. I was so desperate. "

COMING NORTH

Crawford came to Alaska from New York City in 1986 after serving a stint in

the Army Reserves. Her mother and sister had moved up a few years before,

and the first time Crawford visited, she felt as if she had found her true

home.

" It was the calmness, " she said. " Everything was quieter, slower-paced. And

the people, they were so neighborly. "

She worked a variety of odd jobs before landing a receptionist position at

the Salvation Army in 1988, moving her way up to resident coordinator,

manager and finally supervisor. She worked with the homeless, conducted

seminars on AIDS awareness and advocated everything from recovery programs

to improving life for seniors. She says she misses those times, misses her

links to the community and the way it felt to know she was helping people

through some of the toughest and messiest times of their lives.

" Even now, " she said, " people still tell me when they see me how much I've

helped them. I'm grateful and proud and happy. "

Case manager Kathy Lytle, who remembers when Crawford was her supervisor,

gives high marks for her friendly and compassionate interaction with

clients.

" Just because someone is down and out doesn't mean they can't be treated

with respect, " Lytle said, " and that was pretty much how she worked her

job. "

SHOCKING DIAGNOSIS

When Crawford found out she had hepatitis C during routine lab work, she was

stunned. She's not certain how she got it, but wonders whether a visit to an

acupuncturist six or seven years ago might have had something to do with it.

Hepatitis C is spread through direct or indirect exposure to infected blood.

It can be contracted through poorly sterilized medical instruments,

intravenous drug use, tattooing with contaminated needles, blood spills,

contaminated blood transfusions (blood supplies have been tested for the

hepatitis C virus since 1990), shared razors or toothbrushes, and sexual

activity.

Ten percent of those with the illness never find out how they got the

disease, and it can take up to 20 years for symptoms to appear. According to

the National Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 70 percent

will develop liver disease.

As Crawford's hepatitis progressed, the fatigue led her to resign from her

Salvation Army position. She tried her hand at other, less demanding jobs

only to discover that her energy levels were too low. She felt, she said,

" totally shut down " and fell into a deep depression.

" Mostly, I was angry. Why did this have to happen to me? " she said. " I have

a lot to offer. "

UNBEARABLE ITCHING

Crawford's mother, Dorothy, who lives across the hall, agrees. She leaves

her computer pinochle game and plops down in a chair for a nice long chat.

She wears a purple bathrobe, the legs of her white, satiny pajamas sticking

out the bottom. Her earrings swing back and forth as she talks about the

frustration of watching her daughter struggle with her health, struggle with

the mounting bills, struggle to acquire the medications she needs but can't

afford.

" Oh, man, we do the best we can, " Dorothy said. " If she needs meals, we

cook. If she's down, we help her out. But look at her. The girl is sick, and

she's not covered. It's just not right. "

Crawford believes that itching is the most agonizing part of hepatitis. The

cause of the intense itch associated with liver disease is still being

researched in clinical trials at Columbia University, but studies there

suggest it may be triggered when plasma substances accumulate in the blood.

Crawford describes the itching as unbearable, and lotions, ointments and

scratching fail to bring relief.

" I thought, 'If I don't get help with this, I'll be out on the street buck

naked scratching on the ground. It makes you that crazy. "

" Oh, baby, " Dorothy piped in, " that itching makes me nervous. "

Crawford says she has found relief from a drug prescribed by her doctor,

Gerry Sahagun, called Ursodiol, a naturally occurring bile salt used in the

treatment of liver cirrhosis.

Crawford holds up the squarish bottle of Ursodiol and shakes it lightly.

This is the medication paid for through the Salvation Army's Neighbor to

Neighbor funds, and it's almost gone.

" I have maybe 20 left, " she said. " I can't afford more. So when it's gone,

it's gone. "

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

What Crawford hopes is to apply for both Medicaid and Social Security

benefits so that she can begin to get on with her life. As it is now, she's

taking half-doses of medications not covered by CAMA, stretching them out to

two times a day instead of three in hopes that they'll last longer.

" I'm afraid of what happens then, " she said in a low voice.

Once her health improves, she hopes to return to advocating for those who

need help, but this time it will be for people with hepatitis C. People

don't have the right information, she says. They tend to get it mixed up

with AIDS, and when she mentions that she has it, they often step back,

afraid they might catch it. It's a blood virus, she explains, not something

you can get from sneezing or shaking hands. Still, she says, people

misunderstand, and she believes it's her job to educate them.

" Even when I'm not mobile, " she said, " I can still use the phone.

" Baby, " Dorothy suddenly interrupted. " Your plants look like they need a

good watering. "

" Mother, " Crawford said, her voice rising. Then she sighs and explains how

all of this has taught her to have more respect for her body, how she used

to take it for granted but now sees it as a small miracle, every pore and

every vein there for a reason.

While there are days when she gets depressed, there are also days when she

wonders whether this might turn out to be " a blessing in disguise. " After

all, she's been trained to rally around and help others, and maybe it's time

to learn to do the same for herself. She envisions hepatitis sufferers

banding together to encourage and cheer each other on. And, she says with a

shrug, who knows? Maybe they'll even come up with a new drug or a cure five

or six years down the road.

" Oh, baby girl, " Dorothy said. " I had me a party, 75 years of life. I want

you to do the same. "

Reporter Cinthia Ritchie can be reached at critchie@....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHANGING LIVES: The Salvation Army has been in Alaska since 1898, helping

people who are less fortunate in the community.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is it? Neighbor to Neighbor works with local social service agencies

to provide a range of goods and services for the poor when no other funding

is available. Only Alaskans benefit. The fund was created as a nonprofit in

1984 by the Daily News. It is separate from the newspaper and has raised

more than $1.4 million to date. The nine agencies from last year are

continuing this year: Catholic Social Services, Lutheran Social Services,

the Salvation Army, Valley agencies Kids are People Inc. and Alaska Family

Resource Center, Alaska Native Justice Center Inc., Alaskan AIDS Assistance

Association (Four A's), Hospice of Anchorage and Abused Women's Aid In

Crisis Inc. (AWAIC).

Where donations go: Every cent goes directly to agencies providing grants

to people and families in need. No funds go to overhead or administration at

either the Daily News or the receiving agencies.

Rules: No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions to the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund. This fund is a 501©3 organization, and

donations are tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. For information,

call Ildi Geuss, community relations coordinator, at 257-4278.

Online: Neighbor to Neighbor stories and donation forms are at

www.adn.com/neighbor. Donations also can be made online at adnstore.com.

Contributions: Use the donation form on Page E-6.

By check, mail to:

Neighbor to Neighbor Fund

Anchorage Daily News

P.O. Box 149001

Anchorage, AK 99514-9001

By credit card:

Call 257-4278, stop by our office at 1001 Northway Drive or donate online.

[Guest guest]

Weary woman

She who dedicated life to others now seeks help

Neighbor to Neighbor helps Salvation Army help others

By CINTHIA RITCHIE

Anchorage Daily News

(Published: December 5, 2004)

Donna Crawford built a career on helping people through the Salvation Army.

She doesn't know how she contracted hepatitis C, but she lives with it now

and, unable to work, requires help herself. Neighbor to Neighbor assists

with medication costs. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neighbor to Neighbor recipient Donna Crawford has hepatitis C and is unable

to work. She has trouble finding ways to pay for all the medication she

needs. The worst part of her disease, she says, is an agonizing itch that

nothing, even scratching, can relieve. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily

News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorothy Crawford, Donna's mother, lives across the hall and helps Donna when

she can. " The girl is sick, " Dorothy said, " and she's not covered. It's just

not right. "

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late morning arrives in Donna Crawford's Mountain View apartment. The room

is dim, the furniture worn but comfortable, the TV turned to court shows

that blend one into another: Judge Hatchett, Judge Mathis, Judge Judy. Over

by the window, plants climb across shelves, and every so often, a clock

chimes out a muffled, soft note.

Crawford, 49, sits in a green chair next to the fireplace, her hair done up

in neat braids. She's wearing a bright red T-shirt, and her slippered feet

tap against the faded carpet. From a distance, she could be any woman

lounging her way through the morning. Step closer, though, and the weariness

begins to show in the tilt of her head, the slump of her shoulders, the way

her arms hang loosely at her sides, as if she hasn't the energy to lift them

up.

Some days, she says, she hasn't.

Six years ago, Crawford was diagnosed with hepatitis C, an inflammation of

the liver. The subsequent fatigue, compounded by arthritis, bipolar disorder

and high blood pressure, often proves overwhelming. She is no longer able to

work or do many of the things she once enjoyed, such as camping and bowling;

if she manages to walk a few blocks, she considers it a good day. Most of

the time, she stays inside her apartment listening to music and watching TV.

She favors court dramas and news shows, loves watching movies. She sleeps

periodically throughout the day, catching a nap every five or six hours. It

isn't the life she imagined for herself, but still, she says, there are

always things for her to do. Except on the days she's unable to get out of

bed. Those times, she says, are hard, and what she does to get through them

is call on friends.

" I tell them, 'I'm having a really rough day. Can you come over?' Some days

I need help getting to the bathroom. That's when it's really bad. "

She recently needed more help than friends could provide when she found out

that the liver medication she needed to ease her hepatitis symptoms wasn't

covered by Chronic and Acute Medical Assistance, the state-funded program

set up to help needy Alaskans. Because CAMA only covers specific conditions,

of which hepatitis isn't included, Crawford was stuck with a prescription

that cost almost as much as her $280-a-month disability check. She ended up

asking for help at the Salvation Army, where she had worked for 11 years

before resigning because of health problems in 1999. Money provided from the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund quickly took care of her prescription needs. The

irony of finding herself at the other end of the spectrum isn't lost on

Crawford.

" It was humbling, " she said. " I felt ashamed. It was like, 'My goodness, I

have to ask them for help.' I could have grabbed Kathy (Lytle, case worker)

and kissed her. I was so desperate. "

COMING NORTH

Crawford came to Alaska from New York City in 1986 after serving a stint in

the Army Reserves. Her mother and sister had moved up a few years before,

and the first time Crawford visited, she felt as if she had found her true

home.

" It was the calmness, " she said. " Everything was quieter, slower-paced. And

the people, they were so neighborly. "

She worked a variety of odd jobs before landing a receptionist position at

the Salvation Army in 1988, moving her way up to resident coordinator,

manager and finally supervisor. She worked with the homeless, conducted

seminars on AIDS awareness and advocated everything from recovery programs

to improving life for seniors. She says she misses those times, misses her

links to the community and the way it felt to know she was helping people

through some of the toughest and messiest times of their lives.

" Even now, " she said, " people still tell me when they see me how much I've

helped them. I'm grateful and proud and happy. "

Case manager Kathy Lytle, who remembers when Crawford was her supervisor,

gives high marks for her friendly and compassionate interaction with

clients.

" Just because someone is down and out doesn't mean they can't be treated

with respect, " Lytle said, " and that was pretty much how she worked her

job. "

SHOCKING DIAGNOSIS

When Crawford found out she had hepatitis C during routine lab work, she was

stunned. She's not certain how she got it, but wonders whether a visit to an

acupuncturist six or seven years ago might have had something to do with it.

Hepatitis C is spread through direct or indirect exposure to infected blood.

It can be contracted through poorly sterilized medical instruments,

intravenous drug use, tattooing with contaminated needles, blood spills,

contaminated blood transfusions (blood supplies have been tested for the

hepatitis C virus since 1990), shared razors or toothbrushes, and sexual

activity.

Ten percent of those with the illness never find out how they got the

disease, and it can take up to 20 years for symptoms to appear. According to

the National Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 70 percent

will develop liver disease.

As Crawford's hepatitis progressed, the fatigue led her to resign from her

Salvation Army position. She tried her hand at other, less demanding jobs

only to discover that her energy levels were too low. She felt, she said,

" totally shut down " and fell into a deep depression.

" Mostly, I was angry. Why did this have to happen to me? " she said. " I have

a lot to offer. "

UNBEARABLE ITCHING

Crawford's mother, Dorothy, who lives across the hall, agrees. She leaves

her computer pinochle game and plops down in a chair for a nice long chat.

She wears a purple bathrobe, the legs of her white, satiny pajamas sticking

out the bottom. Her earrings swing back and forth as she talks about the

frustration of watching her daughter struggle with her health, struggle with

the mounting bills, struggle to acquire the medications she needs but can't

afford.

" Oh, man, we do the best we can, " Dorothy said. " If she needs meals, we

cook. If she's down, we help her out. But look at her. The girl is sick, and

she's not covered. It's just not right. "

Crawford believes that itching is the most agonizing part of hepatitis. The

cause of the intense itch associated with liver disease is still being

researched in clinical trials at Columbia University, but studies there

suggest it may be triggered when plasma substances accumulate in the blood.

Crawford describes the itching as unbearable, and lotions, ointments and

scratching fail to bring relief.

" I thought, 'If I don't get help with this, I'll be out on the street buck

naked scratching on the ground. It makes you that crazy. "

" Oh, baby, " Dorothy piped in, " that itching makes me nervous. "

Crawford says she has found relief from a drug prescribed by her doctor,

Gerry Sahagun, called Ursodiol, a naturally occurring bile salt used in the

treatment of liver cirrhosis.

Crawford holds up the squarish bottle of Ursodiol and shakes it lightly.

This is the medication paid for through the Salvation Army's Neighbor to

Neighbor funds, and it's almost gone.

" I have maybe 20 left, " she said. " I can't afford more. So when it's gone,

it's gone. "

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

What Crawford hopes is to apply for both Medicaid and Social Security

benefits so that she can begin to get on with her life. As it is now, she's

taking half-doses of medications not covered by CAMA, stretching them out to

two times a day instead of three in hopes that they'll last longer.

" I'm afraid of what happens then, " she said in a low voice.

Once her health improves, she hopes to return to advocating for those who

need help, but this time it will be for people with hepatitis C. People

don't have the right information, she says. They tend to get it mixed up

with AIDS, and when she mentions that she has it, they often step back,

afraid they might catch it. It's a blood virus, she explains, not something

you can get from sneezing or shaking hands. Still, she says, people

misunderstand, and she believes it's her job to educate them.

" Even when I'm not mobile, " she said, " I can still use the phone.

" Baby, " Dorothy suddenly interrupted. " Your plants look like they need a

good watering. "

" Mother, " Crawford said, her voice rising. Then she sighs and explains how

all of this has taught her to have more respect for her body, how she used

to take it for granted but now sees it as a small miracle, every pore and

every vein there for a reason.

While there are days when she gets depressed, there are also days when she

wonders whether this might turn out to be " a blessing in disguise. " After

all, she's been trained to rally around and help others, and maybe it's time

to learn to do the same for herself. She envisions hepatitis sufferers

banding together to encourage and cheer each other on. And, she says with a

shrug, who knows? Maybe they'll even come up with a new drug or a cure five

or six years down the road.

" Oh, baby girl, " Dorothy said. " I had me a party, 75 years of life. I want

you to do the same. "

Reporter Cinthia Ritchie can be reached at critchie@....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHANGING LIVES: The Salvation Army has been in Alaska since 1898, helping

people who are less fortunate in the community.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is it? Neighbor to Neighbor works with local social service agencies

to provide a range of goods and services for the poor when no other funding

is available. Only Alaskans benefit. The fund was created as a nonprofit in

1984 by the Daily News. It is separate from the newspaper and has raised

more than $1.4 million to date. The nine agencies from last year are

continuing this year: Catholic Social Services, Lutheran Social Services,

the Salvation Army, Valley agencies Kids are People Inc. and Alaska Family

Resource Center, Alaska Native Justice Center Inc., Alaskan AIDS Assistance

Association (Four A's), Hospice of Anchorage and Abused Women's Aid In

Crisis Inc. (AWAIC).

Where donations go: Every cent goes directly to agencies providing grants

to people and families in need. No funds go to overhead or administration at

either the Daily News or the receiving agencies.

Rules: No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions to the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund. This fund is a 501©3 organization, and

donations are tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. For information,

call Ildi Geuss, community relations coordinator, at 257-4278.

Online: Neighbor to Neighbor stories and donation forms are at

www.adn.com/neighbor. Donations also can be made online at adnstore.com.

Contributions: Use the donation form on Page E-6.

By check, mail to:

Neighbor to Neighbor Fund

Anchorage Daily News

P.O. Box 149001

Anchorage, AK 99514-9001

By credit card:

Call 257-4278, stop by our office at 1001 Northway Drive or donate online.

[Guest guest]

Weary woman

She who dedicated life to others now seeks help

Neighbor to Neighbor helps Salvation Army help others

By CINTHIA RITCHIE

Anchorage Daily News

(Published: December 5, 2004)

Donna Crawford built a career on helping people through the Salvation Army.

She doesn't know how she contracted hepatitis C, but she lives with it now

and, unable to work, requires help herself. Neighbor to Neighbor assists

with medication costs. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neighbor to Neighbor recipient Donna Crawford has hepatitis C and is unable

to work. She has trouble finding ways to pay for all the medication she

needs. The worst part of her disease, she says, is an agonizing itch that

nothing, even scratching, can relieve. (Photo by Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily

News)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorothy Crawford, Donna's mother, lives across the hall and helps Donna when

she can. " The girl is sick, " Dorothy said, " and she's not covered. It's just

not right. "

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late morning arrives in Donna Crawford's Mountain View apartment. The room

is dim, the furniture worn but comfortable, the TV turned to court shows

that blend one into another: Judge Hatchett, Judge Mathis, Judge Judy. Over

by the window, plants climb across shelves, and every so often, a clock

chimes out a muffled, soft note.

Crawford, 49, sits in a green chair next to the fireplace, her hair done up

in neat braids. She's wearing a bright red T-shirt, and her slippered feet

tap against the faded carpet. From a distance, she could be any woman

lounging her way through the morning. Step closer, though, and the weariness

begins to show in the tilt of her head, the slump of her shoulders, the way

her arms hang loosely at her sides, as if she hasn't the energy to lift them

up.

Some days, she says, she hasn't.

Six years ago, Crawford was diagnosed with hepatitis C, an inflammation of

the liver. The subsequent fatigue, compounded by arthritis, bipolar disorder

and high blood pressure, often proves overwhelming. She is no longer able to

work or do many of the things she once enjoyed, such as camping and bowling;

if she manages to walk a few blocks, she considers it a good day. Most of

the time, she stays inside her apartment listening to music and watching TV.

She favors court dramas and news shows, loves watching movies. She sleeps

periodically throughout the day, catching a nap every five or six hours. It

isn't the life she imagined for herself, but still, she says, there are

always things for her to do. Except on the days she's unable to get out of

bed. Those times, she says, are hard, and what she does to get through them

is call on friends.

" I tell them, 'I'm having a really rough day. Can you come over?' Some days

I need help getting to the bathroom. That's when it's really bad. "

She recently needed more help than friends could provide when she found out

that the liver medication she needed to ease her hepatitis symptoms wasn't

covered by Chronic and Acute Medical Assistance, the state-funded program

set up to help needy Alaskans. Because CAMA only covers specific conditions,

of which hepatitis isn't included, Crawford was stuck with a prescription

that cost almost as much as her $280-a-month disability check. She ended up

asking for help at the Salvation Army, where she had worked for 11 years

before resigning because of health problems in 1999. Money provided from the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund quickly took care of her prescription needs. The

irony of finding herself at the other end of the spectrum isn't lost on

Crawford.

" It was humbling, " she said. " I felt ashamed. It was like, 'My goodness, I

have to ask them for help.' I could have grabbed Kathy (Lytle, case worker)

and kissed her. I was so desperate. "

COMING NORTH

Crawford came to Alaska from New York City in 1986 after serving a stint in

the Army Reserves. Her mother and sister had moved up a few years before,

and the first time Crawford visited, she felt as if she had found her true

home.

" It was the calmness, " she said. " Everything was quieter, slower-paced. And

the people, they were so neighborly. "

She worked a variety of odd jobs before landing a receptionist position at

the Salvation Army in 1988, moving her way up to resident coordinator,

manager and finally supervisor. She worked with the homeless, conducted

seminars on AIDS awareness and advocated everything from recovery programs

to improving life for seniors. She says she misses those times, misses her

links to the community and the way it felt to know she was helping people

through some of the toughest and messiest times of their lives.

" Even now, " she said, " people still tell me when they see me how much I've

helped them. I'm grateful and proud and happy. "

Case manager Kathy Lytle, who remembers when Crawford was her supervisor,

gives high marks for her friendly and compassionate interaction with

clients.

" Just because someone is down and out doesn't mean they can't be treated

with respect, " Lytle said, " and that was pretty much how she worked her

job. "

SHOCKING DIAGNOSIS

When Crawford found out she had hepatitis C during routine lab work, she was

stunned. She's not certain how she got it, but wonders whether a visit to an

acupuncturist six or seven years ago might have had something to do with it.

Hepatitis C is spread through direct or indirect exposure to infected blood.

It can be contracted through poorly sterilized medical instruments,

intravenous drug use, tattooing with contaminated needles, blood spills,

contaminated blood transfusions (blood supplies have been tested for the

hepatitis C virus since 1990), shared razors or toothbrushes, and sexual

activity.

Ten percent of those with the illness never find out how they got the

disease, and it can take up to 20 years for symptoms to appear. According to

the National Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 70 percent

will develop liver disease.

As Crawford's hepatitis progressed, the fatigue led her to resign from her

Salvation Army position. She tried her hand at other, less demanding jobs

only to discover that her energy levels were too low. She felt, she said,

" totally shut down " and fell into a deep depression.

" Mostly, I was angry. Why did this have to happen to me? " she said. " I have

a lot to offer. "

UNBEARABLE ITCHING

Crawford's mother, Dorothy, who lives across the hall, agrees. She leaves

her computer pinochle game and plops down in a chair for a nice long chat.

She wears a purple bathrobe, the legs of her white, satiny pajamas sticking

out the bottom. Her earrings swing back and forth as she talks about the

frustration of watching her daughter struggle with her health, struggle with

the mounting bills, struggle to acquire the medications she needs but can't

afford.

" Oh, man, we do the best we can, " Dorothy said. " If she needs meals, we

cook. If she's down, we help her out. But look at her. The girl is sick, and

she's not covered. It's just not right. "

Crawford believes that itching is the most agonizing part of hepatitis. The

cause of the intense itch associated with liver disease is still being

researched in clinical trials at Columbia University, but studies there

suggest it may be triggered when plasma substances accumulate in the blood.

Crawford describes the itching as unbearable, and lotions, ointments and

scratching fail to bring relief.

" I thought, 'If I don't get help with this, I'll be out on the street buck

naked scratching on the ground. It makes you that crazy. "

" Oh, baby, " Dorothy piped in, " that itching makes me nervous. "

Crawford says she has found relief from a drug prescribed by her doctor,

Gerry Sahagun, called Ursodiol, a naturally occurring bile salt used in the

treatment of liver cirrhosis.

Crawford holds up the squarish bottle of Ursodiol and shakes it lightly.

This is the medication paid for through the Salvation Army's Neighbor to

Neighbor funds, and it's almost gone.

" I have maybe 20 left, " she said. " I can't afford more. So when it's gone,

it's gone. "

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

What Crawford hopes is to apply for both Medicaid and Social Security

benefits so that she can begin to get on with her life. As it is now, she's

taking half-doses of medications not covered by CAMA, stretching them out to

two times a day instead of three in hopes that they'll last longer.

" I'm afraid of what happens then, " she said in a low voice.

Once her health improves, she hopes to return to advocating for those who

need help, but this time it will be for people with hepatitis C. People

don't have the right information, she says. They tend to get it mixed up

with AIDS, and when she mentions that she has it, they often step back,

afraid they might catch it. It's a blood virus, she explains, not something

you can get from sneezing or shaking hands. Still, she says, people

misunderstand, and she believes it's her job to educate them.

" Even when I'm not mobile, " she said, " I can still use the phone.

" Baby, " Dorothy suddenly interrupted. " Your plants look like they need a

good watering. "

" Mother, " Crawford said, her voice rising. Then she sighs and explains how

all of this has taught her to have more respect for her body, how she used

to take it for granted but now sees it as a small miracle, every pore and

every vein there for a reason.

While there are days when she gets depressed, there are also days when she

wonders whether this might turn out to be " a blessing in disguise. " After

all, she's been trained to rally around and help others, and maybe it's time

to learn to do the same for herself. She envisions hepatitis sufferers

banding together to encourage and cheer each other on. And, she says with a

shrug, who knows? Maybe they'll even come up with a new drug or a cure five

or six years down the road.

" Oh, baby girl, " Dorothy said. " I had me a party, 75 years of life. I want

you to do the same. "

Reporter Cinthia Ritchie can be reached at critchie@....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHANGING LIVES: The Salvation Army has been in Alaska since 1898, helping

people who are less fortunate in the community.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is it? Neighbor to Neighbor works with local social service agencies

to provide a range of goods and services for the poor when no other funding

is available. Only Alaskans benefit. The fund was created as a nonprofit in

1984 by the Daily News. It is separate from the newspaper and has raised

more than $1.4 million to date. The nine agencies from last year are

continuing this year: Catholic Social Services, Lutheran Social Services,

the Salvation Army, Valley agencies Kids are People Inc. and Alaska Family

Resource Center, Alaska Native Justice Center Inc., Alaskan AIDS Assistance

Association (Four A's), Hospice of Anchorage and Abused Women's Aid In

Crisis Inc. (AWAIC).

Where donations go: Every cent goes directly to agencies providing grants

to people and families in need. No funds go to overhead or administration at

either the Daily News or the receiving agencies.

Rules: No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions to the

Neighbor to Neighbor fund. This fund is a 501©3 organization, and

donations are tax-deductible to the extent allowed by law. For information,

call Ildi Geuss, community relations coordinator, at 257-4278.

Online: Neighbor to Neighbor stories and donation forms are at

www.adn.com/neighbor. Donations also can be made online at adnstore.com.

Contributions: Use the donation form on Page E-6.

By check, mail to:

Neighbor to Neighbor Fund

Anchorage Daily News

P.O. Box 149001

Anchorage, AK 99514-9001

By credit card:

Call 257-4278, stop by our office at 1001 Northway Drive or donate online.