This doctor makes house calls

Imagine a home in your neighborhood, tidy outside, but hiding a nightmare within.

"Goat paths" of compressed garbage are the only routes between towering piles of papers, packages and bags. Clutter owns the house, overtaking floors, appliances and furniture. Surfaces are spattered by filth and feces. Vermin run unfettered.

In Coon Rapids, housing inspector Leya Drabczak has seen it all. Over five years, her position has evolved from approving permits and construction to a rare full-time post dedicated to healing some of the most dangerous houses in the city.

Using a toolbox consisting of city code, caring and persistence, she's helped about 300 people make their houses habitable, although for a few, the only resolution is a bulldozer.

Garbage houses can appear in any community; those who live in them are every age, race and socioeconomic class, research shows.

Increasingly, Drabczak has become the go-to person for cities across the state, building expertise through research and experience.

Earlier this fall, she shared some of her knowledge with dozens of housing officials at a statewide conference in Duluth. Last week, she spoke to social workers and nurses in Anoka County, and Tuesday she'll visit Minneapolis. .

In Coon Rapids this year, there have been 75 cases of garbage houses, Drabczak said; all but 11 have been resolved.

Her work is part of an effort to preserve the city's housing for future generations. Even after cleanup, the worst houses sometimes are uninhabitable because of odors, system problems or structure damage caused by the incredible weight of so much stuff. Ruined houses reflect poorly on a city's image, said Marc Nevinski, Coon Rapids community development director.

"If we want to achieve the goal of attracting more families to our community, and increasing the value of our housing stock and the wealth in the community, we need to pay attention to the maintenance and upkeep of the houses," he said.

At City Hall, officials from inspections, the fire and police departments sit close; all city workers are encouraged to collect information and share it with Drabczak and her colleagues.

Drabczak's approach

Here's Drabczak's approach: She'll knock on the door, often with a firefighter in tow, offering to install a smoke detector.

When she broaches the subject, it's all about safety. Sometimes, people yell and slam a door in her face. But she always goes back. Eventually, they let her in. Funding is limited, so she works to mobilize a team -- family, friends, church members -- to help them. Otherwise, she connects them with a professional cleanup crew. The city pays, then assesses the fee to the homeowner.

Drabczak refers homeowners to public and private resources for recycling, health care or home help. The city has recently joined with therapists at the Family Life Center in Coon Rapids.

In rare and poignant instances, the city gets a court order to have the house cleaned.

Time is still of the essence, but mainly Drabczak looks for progress.

Often, cases of extreme clutter occur when people's lives and their ability to cope have been derailed by a physical or mental illness.

The psychological factors that create hoarding syndrome are related to the brain's inability to make certain kinds of decisions, said Christiana Bratiotis, director of the Hoarding Research Project at Boston University.

People's difficulties can range from simply having too much stuff to a deep psychological and emotional attachment to the objects around them.

Purging can be a wrenching process, and Drabczak is there for the duration.

She told of a woman who resisted tossing a plastic water bottle; she had been drinking from it when she had received bad news.

"She was sitting on her couch, and she looked tiny to me," Drabczak recalled. "I said, 'Don't you feel better?' She said, 'No, I feel terrible. I felt like I was putting my child in every one of those boxes I was packing up.'"

The work can be life-changing for others. One woman first resented the city's intrusion.

"I saw her two weeks later, and she was beaming," Drabczak said.

"She said, 'I am so happy. I haven't been happy in a long time."

The relationship with Drabczak doesn't end when the house is clean.

"They call and say: 'I'm slipping. Can you come and help me?'"

And she does.

"I just come in with a smile and say, 'I'm here to help you,'" she said. "I am grateful every day that I get to come to work and possibly make a positive difference for someone."

Maria Elena Baca • 612-673-4409