Family's Woes Began With an Itch

When Lou and Mary Glass bought their new home five years ago in a suburb of a major Southwestern U.S. city, it seemed the American Dream was within reach. Three months later, Mary gave birth to a baby boy.

Like many other working parents, Mary was anxious to get back to her job in the medical profession. But problems soon beset the family. Mary noticed the house was always dusty, no matter how many hours she spent cleaning. The dust glimmered in the light, like glass. Mary noticed she could not wear her contact lenses in the house, it was too irritating.

Mary's skin itched. Her constant scratching turned irritations into open sores and lesions requiring medical attention. This was particularly vexing, because Mary never even had acne as a teen; her skin was unblemished. The extreme itching made Mary feel like feeling bugs were crawling on her. But the family dog had no fleas. The veterinarian examined some of the pinkish tufts of dust Mary brought in with a powerful microscope. They were not insect cocoons, he said, they looked more like glass shards.

When Mary went to doctors, they could find no reason for her itching. They suspected she harbored some feeling of inner dirtiness; perhaps related to giving birth. The dermatologists sent Mary to a psychiatrist, who promptly put her on Prozac, an anti-depressant, as well as tranquilizers to stop her from scratching so vigorously.

Being heavily medicated was a new and unpleasant experience for Mary. Soon after, she wound up at the local hospital emergency room with the first of many panic attacks. The doctors never really considered a physical cause for Mary's ailments, despite anything she might have said.

"The doctors just totally ignored me," she said. "They just patted me on the head and said 'You just need to keep taking your Prozac.'"

Doctors- including the surgeon for whom she worked-figured Mary's hormones were out of balance. Her employer needed someone steady and reliable, not what Mary had become, so he fired her.

"I was a lunatic. I admit it," she said. "I felt like I had bugs crawling on me for five years of my life."

When Mary was out of the house, she felt better. Convinced something was wrong with the house, Mary spent nearly every waking hour cleaning, making phone calls and looking for the answer. She was seeing three different skin doctors, as well as a therapist who had taken her off the Prozac. But she was still subject to the panic attacks which left her, literally, breathless.

"The more I would panic in the house," she remembered, "the more I was breathing in."

Her phone calls; to the EPA, to the county health department, to anybody who might be able to help, became more urgent. She contacted the company which built their subdivision. Ultimately, she invited the vice president and his family to spend the night in the house, an offer which was declined.

Professional home inspectors and exterminators blamed the bewildering maladies on itch mites and even scabies. Lou, who was not home all day furiously cleaning like Mary, experienced skin rashes and was treated for scabies (which he did not have).

"We had people out here who couldn't figure out what was wrong, but none of them could stay in the house more than a half an hour," said Mary. "They would stand there and say, "Something's wrong here, but we don't know what it is."

The symptoms became markedly worse during the long, hot summer, when the air conditioning ran frequently.

"You turned the air conditioner on, I felt like I was getting sandblasted," Mary said.

Meanwhile doctors, therapists and prescriptions were draining their bank account. Also, Mary needed a constant supply of new clothes, because they became itchy after one wearing. The Glass' spent their last $1,000 of savings for a remediation company to clean the house. After shampooing the carpets, Mary said, the two workers had to leave because they stirred up so much dust.

The family, who had almost grasped into the American Dream, now just dreamed of a "normal" life. When the newborn son starting having rashes just like mom, Mary realized stronger action was critical.

Mary knew the house's persistent dustiness was the key to the problem. She stuck clear tape over the plates covering the air conditioning ducts, which soon were covered with a fibrous substance. She swept a few samples of dust into a jar. A friend suggested the substance was fiberglass insulation, and a helpful clerk at the local Home Depot store agreed.

The Glass' home, one of many in the tract, was built with a forced air heating/cooling system immersed in an attic full of blown-in fiberglass insulation. Mary found a hole the size of a hammer head in the air duct near the filter. Whomever had accidentally stuck their hammer through the duct had covered it up with a piece of scrap plywood.

Lou went into the attic to look around. He discovered one of the "Y" sections branching off the main duct was split open maybe a foot over the loose glass insulation. He taped that up. Also, the vent from the clothes dryer had come apart in the attic, further stirring up the microscopic glass shards.

Mary's anxiety attacks were replaced by the anger she felt upon researching fiberglass and its binding agents, resins of phenol and formaldehyde. She became an expert on cleaning up fiberglass dust, using silk cloths, old pantyhose and carpenter's tack paper. She began wearing silk clothes all of the time; it was the only fabric that could be washed free of the maddening microscopic fibers.

The Glass' homeowners' insurance policy was of no use whatsoever.

"They basically told us to sue (the builder) because this isn't something they cover and they weren't responsible," said Mary.

The home builder, fortunately, became interested in the Glass' plight upon finding out fiberglass was the likely cause of their problems. The builder hired an independent insurance adjuster to investigate, who seemed to agree with the diagnosis.

The builder also contacted the insulation manufacturer, whose representative found evidence of fiberglass contamination at the home. But according to Lou and Mary, he minimized the consequences of their exposure, telling them there was "no scientific evidence" of harm to humans, the body simply absorbs fiberglass.

Even so, the builder agreed to pay for an apartment while the Glasses moved out of their house. The builder also paid for an entirely new duct system to be installed, and for the carpeting, drapes, cloth furniture and clothing to be replaced. All of this was done without the Glasses even having to file a lawsuit.

"They wanted us to be quiet about it, that was very clear to us." said Mary.

Unfortunately, the builder's money was not enough to pay for the removal and replacement of the blown-in fiberglass insulation. The Glasses were broke, so the insulation remains.

"(The attic) door is nailed shut, and it's staying that way," remarked Mary.

Yet the goal of a "normal" life is still elusive. Mary is extremely chemically sensitive, becoming very uncomfortable in department stores, traffic jams, and anywhere else where there are high levels of formaldehyde. Last Christmas she was rushed to the emergency room in agonizing pain. She was diagnosed with kidney stones. With the help of some morphine, those were passed, but Mary was back in the hospital in a week with stones in her right kidney.

(Researchers John and David Goldsmith have tentatively linked kidney disease to high levels of silica in the body. Fiberglass is approximately 60 percent silica.)

Lou Glass called Victims of Fiberglass after reading about VOF in This Old House. He was looking for information, as well as knowledgeable doctors and lawyers. The doctors they have seen so far know almost nothing about fiberglass-related injuries, he said.

The Glass are worried about the threat of cancer, particularly for their young son. Lou says he won't be able to live with himself if his son develops cancer in 25 years and no action was taken.