A&E's Hoarders visits Canyon, Tx

A&E's hit show Hoarders filmed an episode here in Canyon, Tx in February of 2012.  In it they told the story of a local woman named Jan, her daughter and the hoarding that is causing so much trouble in their lives.  Below is a link to the episode as well as a text description and transcript.  Caution-  Some of the imagery in this video is disturbing:

http://fullepisode.info/hoarders-season-5-episode-8-deejan/

Description & Transcript

We see a shotgun shack nestled up against the rail line’s fence as a train rumbles past; we’re south of Amarillo in a small town with few resources. Jan lives here. She has pretty nails and a sad face as she tells us that she makes jewelry and plays on the Internet.

She doesn’t leave her bedroom much. As the camera pulls out, we see why. It’s a tiny place, maybe less than 800 square feet, and every room is caked with feces and garbage. “I’m not very good at taking care of myself.” The front of the stove is unrecognizable due to the amount of feces and cat spray that is caked on the appliance. A long-haired Tuxedo cat perches on the edge of a counter, darting away as the camera comes near.

“My kitchen is the worst room. It’s just a mountain of cat crap.” Jan’s lip trembles as she tells the camera about her house. She’s clearly ashamed and seems to have tunneled into herself for years in order to just survive the day-to-day of living in squalor. She doesn’t want to talk about her bathroom.

Jan has no running water, yet she continues to use the commode. When the camera panned across the small space, I had to pause the screen, trying to figure out what I was seeing. Rising out of the toilet is a huge, black, bulbous…thing. It’s a foot and change higher than the toilet seat. Jan is still defecating in the toilet. This was the first time I had to stop and walk away. Not just because I’m disgusted by it, but… How sick and broken does a person have to be to walk into a room with their eyes closed and use the toilet, pretending that they’re not doing what they’re doing? (This is how Jan has managed to continue this behavior.)

I know people want to be grossed out and entertained by this show, believe me. But how can you see this, see the woman who looks as fragile as spun glass and not realize that something is wrong with her? How can we shovel popcorn in our mouths and just wait for the next freak show? That’s not what this show is about – it’s about recognizing that many people just can’t do for themselves, that they need others to step in and help. How they got there, and how they can change their behaviors.

But those people need to have the tools to help, of course.

Georgia is Jan’s quiet daughter. Pam, Jan’s sister, finally explained to her that she was raising “the stinky kid.” Georgia would leave the house and douse herself in perfume and air freshener, hoping that no one would realize what she was living in. Finally able to leave, she has been in college for some time.

Jan is staying with her now, as the city was called and her home was deemed uninhabitable. And this is when we realize that her home isn’t the building we’ve seen from the outside, but that it’s a duplex. I would imagine that the other side isn’t currently being rented out. How could it be?

Jan, while never a shining example of housekeeping, did function normally until her father died in the early 90s. She took steps to get counseling and medication for her depression, and as soon as she started making positive strides, her husband informed her that he’d impregnated another woman, was in love, and would be divorcing Jan immediately in order to marry the other woman. She had a nervous breakdown, during which her mother suffered a stroke and died.

When Georgia was able to leave the small house (where up to 20 cats lived at one point, we’re told) this seemed to push Jan even further. She gave up. She felt she had no worth, and so why bother? Georgia still feels guilt for leaving her mother in that mess, but what choice did she have as a child?

Jan can barely speak as her face crumbles, her voice breaks, and she tells us how ashamed of herself she is.

Dr. Zasio arrives with a smile and a hand on her arm. When they open the home, however, Dr. Zasio says slowly, “Oh…dear,” as she sees the caked feces everywhere. She immediately puts on a face mask. (Ammonia is incredibly unhealthy, not to mention the danger of fecal matter.)

Jan shakes and says quietly, “When I realized I was going to be alone for the rest of my life I just thought, ‘Well, what the fuck?’ You know?”

Dr. Zasio asks her if she doesn’t believe she deserves anything better than this? “I suppose,” she mumbles.

“This feels like punishment to me, Jan!” She holds Jan’s shoulder, bending down to look her in the eye and try and communicate with her, but Jan realizes that the next step is to show the doctor the bathroom and she just can’t bring herself to do it.

Dr. Zasio goes on her own, and later she tells the camera, “This is one of the most horrific images I’ve seen in my life.” She gently guides Jan to the doorway, needing her to see it, to stop pretending it’s not there. “You’re punishing yourself. This is some kind of torture.” Jan can’t bring herself to open her eyes.

Before they clean up, the doctor insists that Pam and Georgia see how bad things have gotten – no one can turn a blind eye to this anymore; it would be unconscionable. Dorothy Breininger is on site at this point and guides the family in.

Pam, her soft-spoken older sister, says, “I never dreamed it was this bad. I’m sorry.” She cries, trying to reach out to Jan, who is curling in on herself in her shame. “I’m so sorry I didn’t help more.” But…what could Pam have done? This is a situation where professionals were clearly needed. And if Jan wasn’t willing to accept help, Pam could bring all the doctors and so forth in that she wanted; it wouldn’t have done any good.

Georgia starts sobbing, holding her mom. This was her home. It was never great, but it was never this.

The Get Junk crews start carting things out: soaked and damaged card tables, boxes that have been chewed on. Jan stands outside saying, “Good-bye!” with glee. Her sister and daughter are inside, however, working. She’s not participating. Dorothy acts on that quickly, telling her that she needs to participate, regardless of how ashamed she is; she must deal with things.

Dr. Zasio adds, “It’s your responsibility to take care of this situation, okay? Go back in.”

Jan, eyes wide, murmurs, “Okay.”

The biohazard team arrives to dispose of the toilet. They suit up, tape off, and put on their rebreathers. They have to chop away at the black mountain in the toilet before they’re able to break it down, bag it, tape that, and cart it out of the house.

The family is called outside so they can be addressed by a member of the team. Something has just gone wrong. [Here's your warning from me.] “While we were doing our clean out, we noticed there was [sic] cats hiding in the bathroom. One of them was hiding behind the toilet. And it ran out, came over here–” He points to the sidewalk outside. “–laid down and died.”

The women all move to where he pointed as Jan sighs sadly, “Oh, Randy!” And my beef with the editorial staff is that they showed the poor cat lying in the street. And also as Jan held it, cradling him. For several minutes. I have a hard time enduring images where innocent victims (animals, children, the infirm, the mentally challenged) are helpless or hurt. Or in this case, still warm after dying. Maybe I’m just too sensitive. I had to leave the room to pull myself together, I’ll tell you that much.

Dorothy stands behind them wiping away tears as well. She and the biohazard team try and explain that years of ammonia and filth led to this, not the ammonia released as the toilet was removed, as Jan is trying to tell herself. She has to take responsibility for this. She stands still, holding her deceased cat, stroking his head as they try and explain this to her. It’s a lot to take in.

The Got Junk crew picks up the pace, essentially pulling everything out of the house. Nothing is staying, nothing. They find more cats hiding, corral them into a box, and call the SPCA, who immediately come out and rescue them, sending them off for health care.

The less chaotic the interior of the house is, the more Georgia seems to find her voice. She angrily tells her mom, “You made me feel like this was my fault because I didn’t clean the litter box [for my cat],” when there were other animals in the house. Georgia felt like the mess was her fault for years.

Jan blinks, shocked by this. “I didn’t mean to make you feel responsible for all of them…”

“But you did!” Georgia shouts. “You did!”

Jan is being bombarded with truth and the realization that her actions affected others, but it’s actually sinking in. She apologizes profusely to her daughter, who takes it at face value. They’re sweet, quiet women and I get the impression that they just want to find some sort of happiness. It’s nice to see people willing to work for it. Jan knows she’s made it rough on her daughter. “I’m sorry, darling. It’s been a lot to ask.”

Everyone notes that Jan is now “wildly committed” to the process. After getting most of the rooms shoveled free, Dr. Zasio loads her up in a van and takes her off to an undisclosed location while Dorothy engineers some magic back at the house. Dorothy has a crew come in behind the Got Junk crew to do a biohazard scrub down – ceiling to floor, everything sanitized – with a second team behind them to repaint and decorate the house.

All in all, five tons of garbage are toted out of this tiny little building. Five tons. I’m telling you, that apartment couldn’t have been larger than 800 square feet. It’s like a clown car of garbage, I don’t know how there could have been that much inside.

Jan, meanwhile, is at a salon getting her hair properly cleaned, cut, and styled. Dr. Zasio wants her to remember that she has worth, that she’s worthy of something as simple as being clean. With freshly done makeup and a new hairdo, they drive her back to the house where she’s shocked to see new (albeit simple) furniture, curtains, and a few rugs. The bathroom has a new toilet, pretty candles and tchotchkes. She’s overcome, crying harder the farther into her house she goes, completely grateful and humbled by the effort put into “little ol’ me.”

She openly weeps, saying “It’s so pretty!” She’s finally decided that she’s worthy of something decent. “I can live again, I can be a person again.”

Aftercare: She is working with both an organizer and a therapist. Some of the cats that were taken from her home have been adopted out to forever homes.