I Know How A Butterfly Feels. Ann Palmer
go into Missoula. I had to get the proper electrical connector for the motor home and a longer water hose, etc. At long last I was in Montana, after about 15 years of her inviting me to visit. My leg was hurting and beginning to show red. I was concerned about infection.
May 25th, Saturday: Sandy, Martha’s daughter, her ex-husband, her four year old daughter, Tina, Martha and I went on a picnic planning on picking wild flowers to put near Martha’s husband’s ashes but there were few in bloom. Spring seems a bit late this year. Later that day, we had the privilege of watching Tina’s performance at her ballet recital. Tina is such a darling ham! While the older girls were doing their dance, consisting of lying on the floor, with legs moving to the music, Tina was behind the curtain mimicking their movements. She seemed to know the routines better than any of the girls who were performing on stage. She is also a real beauty, with a bit of devilish deeds at times. Later, observing her antics, I felt she needed some psychological help.
The first night I froze – I couldn’t connect my electric blanket because I was operating on the 12-volt system. Not knowing my new home yet, it was just a matter of setting the thermostat - dumb me! Some things have electric starters, except the hot water heater which is what the guy at the dealership told me. Much later I found out that it did work and was just a matter of turning it on at the heater. I was very confused about many other aspects of the motor home. As soon as I had the electricity connected to Martha’s house, my electric blanket was on each night. I was getting all settled in for the summer stay in Montana. Within a few days, I hoped to be all set up to begin the task of digging into writing and completing my unfinished books.
Sunday, May 26th, it sprinkled all morning. One disappointment was that my niece from Texas was here the week before I arrived. I was looking forward to seeing her but she left with no word of where she was going… Oh well, I was happy to be finished with the anxiety of selling my house, learning to drive a motor home, buying a car to tow, etc. – It was, at last, all finished - then I just need to get my leg well! The entire back of my leg is bruised, about 5” x 7” with a deep gash and blood blisters still weeping. Martha mixed up some clay that I put on my leg hoping it would help. It seems that no matter what I put on it, nothing helps. Along with the continuous weeping, it has been dreadfully painful.
Monday, May 27th, Memorial Day – The family remembered Tom, Martha’s husband, who died two years ago. In the evening, we each brought food and ate in the picnic area. There is a fire pit and a fire is usually going. After the good meal, we sat around the fire talking. The sound of the water in the creek rushing by, the sawing of the wind in the pines and the smell of the smoke added to the peace and joy I was now cherishing in Montana.
The rest of the week I continued to try to find where I put things and organize my stuff in the storage areas. When the weather was nice in the evening, we gather in the picnic area sharing dinner. It seemed pleasing to commune with a large family. Martha’s son, Dale, had dated me years before. I assumed we went our separate ways and that was that but he is always very irritating. He pretended I didn’t exist. If I brought food, he wouldn’t eat it. He would not speak directly to me but would say “tell her” this or that. It was obvious the toll his drug use had on his brain and personality. Frankly, I didn’t care. He made his choice but I didn’t want him to interfere with my relationship with the rest of the family.
On May 30th, Thursday - At least a third of my leg is beet-red and no healing seems to be taking place. I can’t keep treating it with no results so I went to Deer Lodge to the clinic to see a doctor. I felt I had to know what was happening with my leg since I had never had any wound take so long to heal - red meant infection. My imagination could run away with me, especially at night. After all my struggles to get here - own my motor home and car, just my luck to get an infection and die!
Actually my doctor at the Deer Lodge Clinic was a Physicians’ Assistant who seemed to know what he was doing. He ran many tests. Sternly he warned me that I could loose my leg if I did not do exactly as he said - I could check into the hospital OR take antibiotics plus physical therapy. The infection has developed into some kind of “Venous” ulcer. He wanted me to stop everything I had been doing – Martha’s clay, peroxide, Aloe Vera, et al. He also said the antibiotics I had been taking were wrong, so there went another $65 for each of the two prescriptions. After seeing him, I went across the street for physical therapy. I returned the next day for about a twenty-minute treatment. My leg was put into a Jacuzzi type bath, then a 5-day sterilized waterproof pad put on it. I really HOPED to see some positive results soon as I was very tired of limitations and pain. I thought I always healed quickly, yet no amount of prayer or meditation attempting to heal it helped, which I regret to say, since I believe in hands on healing and the power of prayer.
Friday, May 31, 2002 – After my one-week stay, around 1 PM, I was still trying to find places for everything I packed into this motor home. Lots of storage underneath but trying to decide how to organize it was the problem. Of course, THAT has been the least of my problems this week – getting sewer connected, water hoses and electrical cords, yet; the main PROBLEM has been my leg. With all our attempts at healing, visiting Martha’s favorite doctor before I went to the Deer Lodge Clinic, no healing seemed to be taking place and after two weeks, still oozing blood.
For it to be almost 9 PM and still daylight amazes me, the sky was blue with pinkish mauve thin stringy clouds. The sun often has its last small rays shinning on a wheat colored field with everything else in the shade – the barn, the rusting farm equipment, the layer of trees out my window across the field – the pines behind assorted greens, the rolling hills, another layer of pines, another layer of rolling hills. All the while hearing the creek rushing by with waters fresh from the melting snow covered nearby mountains.
We had another cook out in the evening with the family. Mark and his wife, Gina, returned from 29 Palms. Martha’s other two sons, Dale and Tim, her daughter, Sandy and Sandy’s Tina – the 4-year-old terror (when she ate sweets.) I enjoyed sitting out side surrounded by the pine trees, just a pleasant temperature, a fire going and a great spread of food, including our first watermelon. Cody, a beautiful black longhaired herding dog, I found to be so sweet even thought Martha warned me she was crazy and might bite – not at all. She was a guard dog – the minute someone drove up, she was ready to attack. Apparently she especially did not like men in any kind of uniform. She would swim in the creek often, then she wanted to be very loving when very wet. I found her to be a sweet dog at all times.
Of course nothing is ever perfect: Martha could be annoying as a back seat driver – “go there – go here – turn –” etc. like I’ve never driven before! She talked incessantly about totally mundane things, so that I didn’t “hear” half her conversations. After loosing her husband of 50 years just two years ago, I assumed she needed to talk. The least I could do was let her and try to listen. She thought I was angry when I wasn’t. I endeavored to do what she said to do since I was her guest. It became quite difficult since she changed her thoughts rapidly. All in all, I believed we were getting along OK. Social life away from their farm consisted of a $2.50 lunch at the Senior Center. Martha is a woman in her late seventies with the enthusiasm of a teenager, she always seemed down to earth and I thought was a very bright woman. She was always the brain behind their businesses. Her husband and the two sons, Dale and Tim, worked for Tom and Martha. Dale was moody and cranky all of the time. In close proximity to me, his refusing to speak to me directly is so childish for a man in his fifties. What a handsome young man he was, very bright with so much potential but his years of smoking pot destroyed him. Tim would get off in Never-Never land talking to himself; yet, he is quite bright and could do most anything, except hold a job for more than a few weeks. It is like he is always in the right brain with no linear thinking. He had been helpful to me. He was a total loaner – totally self-involved. Both sons should have been doing far more to help Martha but each “does their own (selfish) thing” – Dale’s “thing” was to sit and watch TV all day – EVERY day! At least Tim would work occasionally. Martha had created this situation by holding all of them to her apron strings, except for Mark who had far more independence.
Sandy was darling and well into her thirties. She is divorced and has her own business in her basement. She works very hard each day. She does beautiful creative work. Martha has always been very creative with