'I'm dying of a terminal illness but could be made homeless because of petty red tape'

A dad-of-three who is is trapped in unsuitable accommodation and no longer able to shower - but is being prevented from buying a house by red tape, his daughter claimed.

John Ricca, 45, is getting progressively worse as his (MND) takes its toll on his body - and eventually, he will be unable to swallow or breathe.

MND, which also , is a neurological condition which affects mobility, speech and behaviour.

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Now with his life on the line, his daughter Iara is desperately trying to get him into suitable housing so he can live out his final months in dignity.

John and his wife Nancy, 47, have had to battle bureaucracy, red tape and a 'computer says no' attitude at every stage since returning to the UK in September 2021, they said. John, a British citizen who had lived abroad since childhood, made the move with his children - Iara, 22, and sons Bauti, nine and Luca, seven.

All of the children have British citizenship through their father, but the family faced their first hurdle when they were told mum Nancy would have to fly back to Argentina for six months to get an extended visa to stay in the UK.

The stress of finding a well-paid job, working full time and getting his sons settled into schools, while worrying about his wife's wellbeing thousands of miles away, was enough to trigger his poor health, Iara believes.

"The first thing he had was his right leg had foot drop," explains Iara. "His whole body was having muscle spasms. He was tired - I did the school run with him once and I remember one of the kids came out running to get me, and I thought, 'Oh my gosh, he's going to cross the road.' I said to my dad, 'Why aren't you running?' And he just said, 'I can't, I don't have the energy.'"

After going to the GP with a worrying foot drop in his right leg, John was diagnosed with MND in April 2023 - and several other doctors he spoke to came to the same conclusion.

"He didn't really admit it on the day, he didn't want to say what it was. I thought it was cancer initially," says Iara. John was plunged into a dark place and Iara had to step up to care for her younger brothers as their dad struggled with his terminal diagnosis.

"I've never seen my dad like that," she says. "I'm guessing it's because he'd already got so much going on in his head. And he doesn't let it out because he is my dad. Men have that, they'd rather just not show the emotions because then it affects the whole family."

Within months, John was too exhausted to take his daily walk to the park or even to the shops, and was forced to stay home. By December 2023 he'd had to give up work and Iara started looking for a house they could rent using his final pay cheque and the money she was bringing in from her job as a coffee shop barista.

They found one and the whole family moved in, after Nancy was granted a visa to stay with her children in the UK. But while John's benefits contribute some of the £1,400 rent, Iara also pays £300 from her wages to keep the roof over their heads.

But with John's health worsening, the rental house is becoming harder for him to get around. He uses a wheelchair at home but the doorways are too narrow to get through, so John is forced to use a walker to get to the toilet.

The family have tried to get council housing as John is categorised as Band A - the highest priority band, which is reserved for people with urgent or critical housing needs. But Iara has had to battle their local authority, Birmingham City Council, at each step of the lengthy process.

"It took maybe four months for Dad's application to even go through," she recalls. "There was a webpage you just couldn't get past. And every time I'd ring the council and tell them it wasn't working, they'd say, 'well have you done this?' But nothing I tried worked.

"Finally Dad got placed in Band A, so the highest priority, and every Thursday there would be new houses released on the council's website that we could bid on. But every Thursday whenever I tried to apply, the queue would be massive. Dad might start out number 20 in the queue, but throughout the day more people would be added so he would end up as number 100."

Feeling frustrated and scared for her dad's future, Iara desperately tried to reach actual humans in the council's housing department, only to be told other Band A applicants would have priority over John if they had registered before him.

"What's the point of calling it 'priority' if it doesn’t actually mean anything? I was fuming because I felt like, why is my dad being pushed to the end of the line when we don't know what's going to happen to him tomorrow?" she says. "I don't think Motor Neurone Disease is taken that seriously because the death rate is so quick, there's not many people who even have time to find suitable accommodation before they die."

By September 2024, Iara and her mum - who had given up work to become her husband's full-time carer - decided to try to buy a house for John where he could spend the rest of his life in comfort. But even that was fraught with difficulties: a property they offered on nearly got pulled from the market because the mortgage checks were taking so long to go through, and the sellers were getting nervous.

A kind family friend stepped in to offer John the full amount he would need to buy the home outright. Finally, Iara and Nancy got the word that they could exchange contracts - but they would need to get John to his bank in person to sign the paperwork to release the deposit the day before the sellers' deadline.

"The bank were fully aware he had a terminal illness. It took both my mum and me to lift him into the car. He was in pain, tired and emotionally drained, but we made it there," Iara says. "We arrived at 4.10pm, well before the branch closed at 5pm. When we got there, we were told that the cut-off time for transfers was 4pm, something we were never told over the phone.

"Even though it would have taken about 30 minutes to complete the process, and we were just 10 minutes past, they refused us immediately. There was no compassion, no flexibility, just a flat 'no'."

Her dad reacted with anger and frustration and the police were called. The family were asked to leave the bank without completing their transfer. "This was someone who was dying, in pain, exhausted, and completely out of hope," says Iara. "He was met with no empathy, just resistance."

The following day, the three went to a different branch of the same bank to make the transfer before the deadline expired. But once again, John was barred from releasing the money because his debit card had expired, and the ID he had brought had his old address on it.

"That's common for many disabled or terminally ill people — they are not chasing paperwork when they are trying to manage their care and their final months of life," Iara points out. Still, the bank staff refused to carry out the transaction, and even froze his account while they undertook anti-money laundering checks, leaving the family without cash for several days.

Now Iara and John are desperately trying to highlight how difficult it is to cope with bureaucracy while dealing with a terminal illness. "This was never just about a transfer, it was about everything we’ve been fighting for: a home, dignity, security, and now even that is at risk of falling through," she says.

"If we lose this house, we have nowhere to go. No landlord will take us. We don’t pass affordability checks. The Social Housing Register is a farce. There is no plan B for us."

It is her little brothers she feels most sorry for now, that they will have to grow up without the dad she remembers from her own childhood.

"He just wanted his family to be happy. I always say to my partner, I wish I could get what he has and take it away from him. I really love my dad, I don't know what I'd do without him."

Says John: "I was so grateful to move here despite everything that has happened, it has been my dream to bring my family to the UK for a long, long time.

"People in the UK have been so welcoming. People saying hello on the street and in shops, that's new to us. It's really heartwarming. My MND support team have been so kind, especially the occupational therapist who comes to visit, she's such a sweet woman.

"Even though my illness has taken away my chance to experience more of the country, I am proud my children can experience it for me, and can grow up here and make memories for me. This brings me comfort and I know I've done the right thing in moving us."