URBAN WARRIOR - SHE SAYS HEALTH THREAT IN AIR IS SEEPING THROUGH CRACK

THE LONG, CLEAR tube stretches from the oxygen tank in the kitchen
into the tidy living room and coils by the sofa, a tether that both
gives and restricts life.

Without the air from the tube flowing through her nose 24 hours a
day, Barbara Oates would pass out and then die.

So you can see why breathing, something most of us do without much
thought, is always on her mind. And you can probably understand why
any threat to her air would outrage Oates.

Which brings us to the house next door in a string of Southwest
Philadelphia rowhouses.

Oates, 66, says the couple living there smoked crack cocaine from
time to time and the fumes occasionally seeped into her home.

The man who owned the home died in January and his girlfriend, who
still lives there, apparently began smoking the drug far more often,
Oates said. The smoke permeating her home increased as well, harming
her health.

"The stuff has an acidy, bitter smell," she said. "The first thing
that happens to me is I get a headache. Sometimes my head will start
hurting before I smell it."

Oates says her stomach starts to hurt and her eyes itch.

The smoke sneaked up on Oates one morning and she vomited in bed
before she could get up.

A social worker who visits Oates every two weeks called and asked me
to listen to the woman's story.

Her doctor called to tell me the smoke was a serious threat.

The doctor - who, like the social worker, asked to not be named here
- - said she called a community-policing officer and told him the smoke
could kill Oates.

During a house call, the doctor experienced the fumes that have been
bothering Oates.

"As soon as I walked into her house, I had the most terrible taste in
my mouth," the doctor said. "As soon as I left her house, it was gone."

The Police Department has sent officers to speak to the neighbor but
little has changed. And Oates, who describes herself as "ornery" to
begin with, is frustrated.

"I'm calling the police and asking them to send someone out to smell
my house," Oates said. "Do you know how that makes me feel?"

Oates tried to get help from the city but found more frustration.

The Commission on Human Relations did a particularly poor job, first
moving slowly on her complaint and then calling to say she should
take her case to the police, which she had already done.

When I called around, her story moved officials to action.

Police Commissioner Sylvester Johnson, who often laments the impact
of drugs on the city's neighborhoods, said his department is starting
an investigation.

The Public Nuisance Task Force at the District Attorney's Office also
took an interest in the problem. The task force's chief spoke with
Oates on Thursday.

Oates is thrilled to have people listening to her story now.

I wish I could have told the neighbor's story here as well.

But she wasn't around when I went looking for her last week. The
business card I left wedged in her screen door didn't prompt a call.

I found several phone numbers - all disconnected - under a handful of names.

Oates bought her house in 1984 and remembers a neighborhood she calls
"gorgeous." She retired as a SEPTA cashier in 2001 and was diagnosed
with lung cancer. She has had several surgeries for the cancer and a
buildup of fluid around her lungs and heart.

Despite her health problems, Oates is no shrinking violet. She wants
to stay in her home but fears she may have to move.

"So where do I go? What do I do?" Oates asks. "I'm not complaining
just to complain. I don't care what she does over there, as long as
it doesn't affect me. But this is making me sick."