First John Lamenzo got sick. Then he got angry.
There are no computer-generated geckos doing the robot at 21 Fairly Road. No exasperated water fowl quacking about supplemental insurance. And no soothing advertising catchphrases to suggest we're in the good hands of, like, a good neighbor.
If this place has a slogan it's, "Private Property: Official business only; Dogs on premises." Catchy, but it doesn't exactly conjure the warm and fuzzies. Beyond a barbedwire fence and a large, locked turquoise gate, two signs inscribed with that salutation flank a gravel driveway.
Past those warning signs, down the winding driveway, shrouded by trees, is the home of the National Guaranty Insurance Company. The building John Lamenzo says made him sick. The company he says did nothing about it.
Lamenzo began work as the company's corporate controller and treasurer on February 8 of this year. He soon noticed the roof was leaking.
The repercussions of the winter's heavy snowfall were creeping out of the building's nooks and crannies. There was a fuzzy discoloration on the kitchen ceiling. A dark growth on the beams.
Lamenzo expressed concern about the burgeoning biology experiment but says his boss, NGIC President Fred Carroll, insisted the problem was under control. Within two weeks, Lamenzo began feeling ill. Fatigue. Cough. Labored breathing.
"I thought it was the flu," Lamenzo says. "But then the flu didn't go away."
The symptoms continued unabated until Lamenzo consulted on March 22 with Clinical Nutritional Specialist Laurent Bannock at the Santa Fe Integrative Medicine Clinic. A blood test purportedly revealed an unwelcome house guest lazing around Lamenzo's internal swimming pool.
Toxic mold.
Lamenzo, that same day, typed a memo to Carroll that read, in part, "I cannot stress how dangerous this situation is, not only to the health of all the employees, but to your own financial well-being. We need to take action on the health and environmental front immediately."
Lamenzo says the memo was met with indignation. He filed a claim with the New Mexico Worker's Compensation Administration the following day. By March 25, he had vacated the building under the orders of Dr. Michael Gregory at Santa Fe Family Health Care.
Lamenzo did not return. His health improved through treatments prescribed by Bannock, Gregory and Jade Easton, an acupuncturist and allergy elimination specialist, at the Easton Grey Clinic. Every trace of mold was eliminated from 21 Fairly Road, Lamenzo's worker's comp claim was accepted and he returned to the employ of National Guaranty Insurance healthy and happy. The end.
If only it was that simple.
Lamenzo's health did improve with treatment and by avoiding his workplace but his battle to be compensated for medical expenses and lost pay-which has been raging for months-continues. On June 22 Lamenzo is scheduled to attempt to mediate a settlement under the supervision of the WCA. His initial claim was denied after New Mexico Mutual Casualty-NGIC's insurance provider-determined he could not prove his ailments were caused by mold in the NGIC building.
Environmental reports by an independent assessor and the state's Occupational Health and Safety Bureau support that decision. But a toxic mold specialist contacted by SFR finds fault in the testing methods. Moreover, the OHSB admits that a lack of standards regulating mold exposure has left the government virtually helpless to enforce violations. Meanwhile, contentious debate within the medical and scientific communities has left individuals at the mercy of insurance companies as the mold issue literally continues to grow.
Lamenzo's claim has crowbarred open a veritable Pandora's box. But it isn't just hospital bills and bypassed paychecks at stake. Billions of dollars potentially hang in the balance. The ramifications of this case-and others like it- could ripple throughout the legal, insurance, medical and government worlds.
Carroll insists there is no health threat in his building. He has described Lamenzo as a "loose cannon" with questionable motives and dubious medical proof. Lamenzo, who says his condition will affect him for life, characterizes his struggle as a fight against a willfully negligent and woefully corrupt system with the lives of average folks pinned beneath its thumb.
"There is a lot of denial about this kind of illness," Lamenzo says. "They schluff it off as somebody with an overactive imagination. They're trying to blame me. Well, they're tangling with the wrong person."
Lamenzo was precisely the right person.
A seemingly ideal host of
tissue and blood cells for mold toxins to kick up their feet and sit a spell in.
Toxic mold is a discerning invader. It will bypass numerous potential hosts in pursuit of just the right climate to settle down and raise a family.
You could be the next horticultural homestead. That chronic cough welling inside your chest may have a name. And it isn't Nicotine. The debilitating fatigue dragging you into the ground could have an identity. And it isn't Sleep Deprivation. It's possible that nebulous crud crushing your lungs has its own scientific moniker. And it isn't Oxygen.
Stachybotrys
meet everybody. Everybody,
Stachybotrys.
Call him Black Mold for short. Everybody else does. Granted, it's something of a misnomer since this particularly nasty species of fungi can come in different shapes, sizes, colors and textures. But the nickname nonetheless denotes its potentially sinister implications.
We're not talking about that furry growth on the pepper jack in the back of the fridge either.
Stachybotrys
is the Keith Richards of mold. It can't be killed by conventional weapons. Hang around it long enough and you could find yourself laying on a hospital gurney while a doctor interrogates you about the kind of toxins you've been ingesting.
For your sake, you better hope that it's just an excessive dose of China White coursing through your veins. That's because, according to a report issued by Immunosciences Laboratory (a clinical research facility in California), "The spores from
Stachybotrys
, a mold capable of producing some of the most toxic substances known to mankind, can survive temperatures of up to 500 degrees Fahrenheit, as well as acid, caustics, and bleach without being destroyed." Which is a technical way of saying, "Your firearms are useless against it."
This is the mold that has allegedly infected Lamenzo's lungs. But
Stachybotrys
is hardly alone in the realm of molds that can produce mycotoxins hazardous to human and beast alike.
Multiple strains of
Aspergillus
, for instance, can land a serious sucker-punch.
Just ask Mick Nickel, a Santa Fe environmental biologist, who developed symptoms attributable to
Aspergillus
while working at-of all places-the Environmental Department building of the Tesuque Pueblo.
"From an environmental health standpoint, it's a nightmare to humans," Nickel says. "It's not fun at all. I had open-heart surgery 14 years ago and I was way sicker with that mold than I was with a blocked vessel in my heart."
While Lamenzo and Nickel's cases aren't exactly a dime a dozen, individuals suffering from toxic mold exposure are increasingly common. But because scientific and medical knowledge of mold-based illnesses lags far behind the caseload, definitive proof of a causal link remains elusive.
"When I got sick, I realized this was a whole field of medicine that wasn't being addressed adequately," says Santa Fe physician Dr. Erica Elliott.
Elliott contracted formaldehyde and pesticide poisoning while working at a local clinic as a family practitioner. When she found knowledge of her condition wanton, Elliott made it her expertise by becoming certified as a specialist in environmental science. She soon discovered toxic mold was an inflammatory subject within the medical community-rife with misinformation, skepticism and conjecture.
"There is a lack of training and general ignorance regarding the effects of toxic mold," Elliott says. "There are a lot of studies that show the validity of mycotoxinrelated illnesses, but there is no one test that we can perform that will prove that the patient suffers from this illness. And so the patient is often misdiagnosed and inadequately treated."
Lamenzo sought out Dr. Elliott's expertise to bolster his case. He also searched earnestly for academic studies on the effects of toxic mold. His research efforts unearthed a comprehensive study released in September 2004 by the University of Connecticut Health Center in conjunction with the Environmental Protection Agency.
The lengthy report suggests there is ample anecdotal and empirical evidence provided by case studies, medical literature and media reports to substantiate a link between mold exposure and its various health effects. The UConn study, however, also recognizes a lack of scientific and medical unanimity has made uncertainty the only certainty.
"It should be noted that there is no consensus regarding the relationship of indoor growth of mold to irritative upper respiratory symptoms," the UConn report cautions. "We recognize that the medical community has not agreed on what conditions and even what types of diseases could be classified as 'mold-related illnesses.'"
Many skeptics attribute the dramatic rise of mold-related cases in the last decade to a hypersensitive populace in a lawsuit-happy society. Hypochondriacs and opportunists of the world unite. But the sudden proliferation of fungal illnesses does raise reasonable questions.
"We were living with mold in caves since the beginning of life on this planet so why are we having problems now?" Dr. Elliott asks. "I think there are several factors. We're using a lot of cheap building material…that's like food for mold. Our houses are more airtight so there's not as much circulation. And I think people's immune systems aren't as robust anymore. We're seeing that in industrialized nations all over the world. You see more and more reactions to things that were previously thought to be benign."
Scientists and doctors agree on at least one point. Individuals with weak immune systems-chemotherapy patients for example-have a much higher risk of contracting illness or infection through toxic mold exposure. But it's the seemingly arbitrary nature of the attacks that poses perhaps the most significant hurdle to mold being accepted as a legitimate threat.
"It all depends on individual biochemistry," Elliott says. "If you have 10 people in the same environment, you're going to have 10 different reactions…that makes it difficult to make broad declarations about toxogenic mold when it has different effects on different people."
Dan Stih is well aware of the subjective nature of fungi. The former aerospace engineer operates the Santa Fe company Healthy Living Spaces that specializes in toxic mold inspections and solutions. He points out that only a small percentage of exposed persons will initially exhibit symptoms.
"It's been very hard in the past to prove the relationship between cause and effect when it comes to mold and these illnesses," Stih says. "It's hard to prove anything that has to do with environmental circumstances because there are so many confounding factors. It's easy for them to blame your health problems on something else."
Smoking. Drinking. Poor diet. Medical history. Pre-existing allergies.
The high school you went to. The summer you worked for your uncle's construction company. The girl you brought back from that bar in Cancun. You name it and an argument can be made that something-anything-other than mold is responsible for your condition.
"They say I must have had a pre-existing condition, that I must have gotten this from somewhere else," Lamenzo says. "Bullshit. There was nothing wrong with me before this. I'm a very healthy person. I'm not a smoker. I'm not an alcoholic. I eat organic food. I'm a guy who has completed eight marathons. I've never had an allergy in my life. Never. I was a clean slate for these microbes to feast on. The fact that I've really taken care of myself is what kept me from really getting knocked down."
Lamenzo strikes a portrait of self-wellness. His wiry frame looks younger than its 60 years, a result, he says, of being a scholar of "natural healing" for decades. But his preferred medicine is a problematic pill for his opponents to swallow. Lamenzo is a devotee of alternative medicine. He believes in spiritual cleansing. He rarely takes even an aspirin. Hang around him long enough and he'll give you a business card from his second career. It reads: "John Lamenzo: Healer-Seer."
But a prophet surely knows that clairvoyance doesn't exactly cut the cake in a legal battle. Which is why Lamenzo knew he would need more ammunition than his nutritionist vouching for his toxic mold exposure. While a letter dated April 12 written from Bannock to Dr. Gregory corroborates Lamenzo's assertions ("I can confirm that Mr. Lamenzo was in excellent health until he started working in his present environment," Bannock wrote) Lamenzo needed mainstream opinions to support his claim if he had any hope of winning.
Lamenzo sought second, third, fourth and fifth opinions from Dr. Gregory, Dr. Elliott, Dr. Tim Taylor of Concentra Medical Clinic in Santa Fe and Dr. Maria Petrick, an allergist at Los Alamos Medical Care Clinic. But-like the medical community at large-the doctors were hardly unanimous in their evaluations.
In a March 25 notation of Lamenzo's visit, Dr. Gregory wrote, "In my medical opinion, John's exposure to black mold infestation is causing pulmonary and systematic symptoms including debilitating fatigue and chronic cough. He should not return to work until environment is spore-free."
Doctors Taylor and Petrick dissented. After what Lamenzo says was a cursory examination, Taylor concluded Lamenzo's condition was viral and not fungal. Petrick evaluated Lamenzo but acknowledged she couldn't provide a definitive diagnosis without an established mold exposure protocol and speculated that Lamenzo's New England roots made him more susceptible to mold.
Dr. Elliott says Lamenzo contacted her for her expertise in the field but also because Lamenzo knew he needed a "conventional" doctor to add legitimacy to his claim.
And while Gregory and Taylor were among the first responders to Lamenzo's ailments, Bannock and Easton have handled a majority of his treatment. The primary reason, Lamenzo says, alternative practitioners have handled the bulk of his recovery is because conventional medicine is largely unequipped to treat mold-related illnesses.
"The problem with this kind of infection is that once it's in there, there's no 'mainstream' protocol to get it out," Lamenzo says. "When you talk to mainstream medical people, they are in total denial of this. There are no protocols. The medical establishment is not willing to take a stand on it. This is a huge can of worms that they don't want to open."
Lack of understanding on the subject could be as much to blame as doctors treading tepidly on a social and political bed of hot coals. Nickel also was sent to Concentra for treatment. It was, he says, a front-row seat to the general ignorance of toxic mold in conventional medicine.
"These people are trained to basically do nothing," Nickel says. "Their idea of diagnosing mold contamination is to look at your heartbeat, check your blood pressure, look up your nose and whack you in the knee with a little rubber hammer. They don't do pulmonary tests. They don't put your blood under a microscope. They basically don't do anything they should to check for mold contamination."
Dr. Elliott says once a patient finds a doctor who understands the condition, a course of treatment can be relatively simple. "Treatment is not the problem," Elliott says. "It's getting acknowledgement that's hard."
You know that scene in Fight Club? No, not when Meatloaf gets his head blown off.
And not when Brad Pitt slips porn into a cartoon reel. We're talking about when Edward
Norton's character-a recall coordinator for a major car company-explains his formula for corporate economics while examining the burnt-out husk of a fourdoor.
"The car crashes and burns with everyone trapped inside," Norton says. "Now, should we initiate a recall? Take the number of vehicles in the field (A), multiple it by the probable rate of failure (B), then multiply the result by the average out-of-court settlement (C): A times B times C equals X. If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don't do one."
That kind of arithmetic is exactly how some believe the insurance industry appraises clients with ailments attributable to mold. The companies stand to lose billions of dollars by acknowledging mold exposure as a legitimate health threat. Better to quietly appease the obstinate few than open the liability floodgates to every man, woman and child in America.
"I think they are hedging their bets, these [insurance] companies that are not paying out," Stih says. "It's more cost-effective for them to deny claims and then cut their losses in court."
Lawsuits and worker's compensation claims have risen dramatically as the understanding of mold and its effects has evolved. Most are thrown out, however, because of the lack of regulatory standards and scientific and medical consensus. In a response written in advance of the June 22 mediation, David Skinner-the attorney hired by National Guaranty Insurance and New Mexico Mutual Casualty-delineates why Lamenzo's claim should remain denied. He was not hurt on the job, he is not disabled and, most importantly, "a causal link between disability and accident has not been shown to a reasonable medical probability."
It's not a new argument. The City's downtown library was shut for eight months starting in August 2001 because of mold contamination that reportedly affected several employees. According to Barbara Boltrek, claims administrator for the City's Risk Management Office, three claims were filed and denied and one was litigated further and settled for a "nominal" amount.
Likewise, mold problems at the Bureau of Land Management building on Rodeo Road have been tenuously linked to more than a dozen employees falling ill. The mold allegedly contributed to the death of Mark Lovato-a land-survey worker-after Lovato died following a surgery related to lymphoma.
Joseph Schmitt, a BLM employee for nearly 30 years, has been diagnosed with the autoimmune illness Graves' disease.
Schmitt suspected the mold exacerbated his condition when he filed a worker's compensation claim in 2000. It was promptly denied.
"I didn't file my claim because I thought I would actually get anything," Schmitt says. "I expected it to be denied. I filed because I wanted my claim to be documented. I wanted it on the record in case there is scientific proof to substantiate my suspicions in the future."
In lieu of scientific evidence, the weight of substantiation is placed squarely on the individual making a claim.
"They say that by law the burden of proof is on me," Lamenzo says. "They say this isn't a normal occupational injury. I didn't break my finger or wrist, but if I had I'd be OK. Instead my lungs were attacked. And this thing is in me systemically for the rest of my life. How much more proof do you need?"
A lot, actually. After Lamenzo filed his worker's comp claim, NMMC hired Southwest Environmental Health Incorporated to conduct an environmental assessment of the National Guaranty building. SEHI conducted its test on April 6 and issued an official report on May 3. Toxic mold inspections generally consist of three types of tests-visual inspections, airborne testing and interior wall checks. Samples are taken outdoors and compared with indoor air quality.
The SEHI report found significant indoor levels of mold-as much as 20 times more than in the outdoor air the same day-after airborne tests and a visual inspection. Particularly high levels of
Penicillium
-a relatively common fungi-and
Sporotrichum
-a not so common variety-were identified.
"This species is not considered to be pathogenic in humans," the SEHI report says of
Sporotrichum
. "However, all species of environmental mold are classified as opportunistic pathogens and can be a factor in the quality of indoor air."
The report indicates that elevated exposure to environmental mold can cause symptoms ranging from allergic reactions, headaches, burning eyes, coughing, sore throats and infections. But it says that all symptoms are temporary with the exception of an untreated infection. The report recommended National Guaranty repair its roof, clean up visible mold and seal the building's walls for further evaluation.
But when SFR supplied Dan Stih of Healthy Living Spaces with a copy of the assessment he found the report lacking in a couple vital areas. Without any interior wall tests, Stih says, sealing the walls could merely trap the mold at its source.
"The truth is, about 50 percent of the time mold is hiding," Stih says. "People are sick, they have allergies, they have infections, but you don't necessarily see or smell anything wrong. You may not know anything is there unless you do an interior wall check. They may be very surprised at
what they find if they continue the investigation."
Of the 11 mold species that measured readings within the building,
Stachybotrys
was not one of them. But, Stih says, that doesn't mean it isn't there. He says it's difficult to establish the presence of the mold on airborne and visual testing alone. "
Stachybotrys
is a slow-growing mold so it doesn't grow in petri dishes very well," Stih says. "Technically speaking, the report they have couldn't rule it out…they may have
Stachybotrys
there and not know it."
The State's Occupational Health and Safety Bureau sent its own inspector to 21 Fairly Road. Jon Goldstein, communications director for the New Mexico Environmental Department, acknowledges the inspector only conducted a visual walkthrough but the OHSB nevertheless found no violations of the New Mexico Occupational Health and Safety Act.
"It's a smoke and mirrors game," Lamenzo says. "They're not going to find any violations because there are no standards." In 2000, no states had mold standards. Since then, California has spearheaded mold legislation efforts as dozens of other states look to follow suit. But successes have been few. No federal standards have been established. With no guiding benchmarks, the New Mexico OHSB is largely helpless to regulate or even recognize mold exposure.
"We would have to enforce under a general duty clause if we saw a particularly heinous mold problem," Goldstein says. "But without a federal or state standard it's difficult to gauge how many mold spores constitutes a serious problem."
That constitutes a serious problem for individuals attempting mold-related claims. Until scientific, medical and governmental standards are established, employers, property owners and insurers have no real incentive to acknowledge an issue that could leave them financially destitute.
"It's just like how they treated asbestos," Nickel says. "They're going to break a lot of people before they're forced to fix the problem."
John Lamenzo isn't winning any popularity contests at 21 Fairly Road.
Fred Carroll describes Lamenzo as a nuisance who spent most of his last weeks at work not actually working but talking to people on the phone about mold.
A futile gesture, Carroll says, because nobody else has been affected.
"Nobody in this office is sick," Carroll says. "Nobody in this office has been sick. I have people who have been here for 10 years and they have never had any problems. I've never had any problems. The only person who had a problem was John." Lamenzo insists several employees expressed concern to him about the mold but were unwilling to confront Carroll. But his battle for compensation hasn't ingratiated Lamenzo with other people in the building either.
"Quite frankly, I think it's getting out of hand," says underwriter Brenda Wooster.
"It's borderline harassment. We had a non-biased third party come in-and paid a lot of money for it-and they found no health threat to anyone in the office. End of story."
Not quite. Carroll admits the building has had leaking problems but says the water damage was relatively minor and repaired when the roof was recently fixed. Lamenzo says superficial repairs to the building have been perpetually ongoing without effectively eradicating the mold problem. Nickel says he patched the building's roof back in 2000 while working as a maintenance contractor. For his part, Carroll suggests Lamenzo may have contracted his illness from his previous job as corporate controller at the Shidoni Foundry.
"I don't think this is something you pick up in a couple of weeks," Carroll says. "He worked out at Shidoni for two years, maybe he picked something up out there."
Lamenzo finds that claim laughable.
"Where I worked wasn't even near the foundry," Lamenzo says. "I probably was only at the physical foundry a couple of times. Plus, they have strict environmental standards out there. If they try to play that card, I'll burn them."
After being effectively unemployed for nearly three months, Lamenzo submitted his resignation to National Guaranty Insurance on June 10. He has found a new job as an accounting manager at another Santa Fe company he prefers not to name. Meanwhile, the Worker's Compensation Administration has 30 days to respond to the June 22 mediation. If the WCA mediator rules against him,
Lamenzo says he'll take his case before a
WCA judge, his last line of defense.
It's a lot of work for a relatively paltry price tag, but Lamenzo suggests the lost paychecks and medical bills are only the tip of an iceberg that his former employer and the entire insurance industry want desperately to avoid.
"They owe me about eight weeks (of back pay), that's all," Lamenzo says. "It's about $5,000 max plus the medical. But what has them freaked out is that it could set a precedent for everyone else who has this type of condition. They don't want that to happen."
That's exactly what Lamenzo wants to happen.
"I was shocked to find out there are no actual standards to regulate this type of illness in the workplace," Lamenzo says.
"That has to be exposed. I'm hoping that by publicizing this we can begin to form a broad-based coalition of people who've been affected by environmental diseases to lobby for some sort of standards."
But as long as there are no standards and the scientific and medical communities cannot definitively agree on the effects of mold, insurance companies have the upper hand. Unless an individual employer is willing to take care of its employees-like Nickel says the Tesuque Pueblo did for him-people are at the mercy of a system reluctant to accept liability. It took the tobacco industry some 400 years before it was forced to acknowledge the health effects of its product. And with the proliferation of mold in every town and city in the country, the ultimate costs would be astronomic.
"I think it's safe to say there's a vested interest by some organizations to keep this information from becoming widespread because of the potential costs, which are enormous," Dr. Elliott says.
A few settlements have been reached. But most crack under the burden of proof.
"It's not as simple as saying I've been sick since I've started working here," Stih says. "A person will have a hard time proving their case unless they can get in there and have thorough documentation of the mold problem and the health effects."
Even then it's tough. Lamenzo insists there has yet to be a thorough examination of the mold problem at 21 Fairly Road. He has consulted with at least six health care professionals to try and establish a causal relationship between mold and his ailments. He has pored through academic studies and scoured for anecdotal evidence from other afflicted individuals. But he is nonetheless faced with an uphill battle he wasn't meant to win. Not that he won't try.
"The system is historically skewed towards the business owners," Lamenzo says. "We're dealing with a corporate mindset that says 'screw the worker.' They try to beat you down. They try to make it as difficult as possible for the little guy to proceed. Most people give up because of all the hoops they have to jump through. Well, I'm not giving up. I'm not afraid of these people."
