Tuesday, August 10, 1976
Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, I came down with a boil. I hardly slept last night because of the pain it caused. The boil is in the middle of my back, so every time I turned over, I woke up because it hurt. I have had boils before, but nothing like this one!
After mom and Elisabeth had left for school I got a pillow and started to hit it over and over again while I cried. I was angry because I was in so much pain. After I had hit the pillow for a while I realized it was only making my body hurt worse, so I stopped.
I started to eat breakfast, but I couldn’t finish it because it felt like I was going to throw up. Even though I didn’t feel well, I thought I better do the dishes, dust, and clean the blankets off the couch that I had slept with so that Mom wouldn’t get mad at me.
When mom came back from town she said she had been to see the doctor to get me an appointment. We walked into town so the doctor could have a look at my back. The doctor had me lie down. Then he said, “Yes, that looks pretty bad! I will have to cut into it so that we can get out some of the infection.”
First, he disinfected my back, and then he got a needle to numb the area he was going to cut into. I could feel his hands trembling, and I sensed that he didn’t seem sure of what he was doing. He was shaking so badly that the needle he was using broke. The doctor then had to cut out the broken needle that was still stuck in my back. I could not believe what was happening!
The doctor gave me another shot. He was afraid to put the needle where he had put the first one, so he put it farther away from the boil. It never got numbed. When I told the doctor I could feel everything he was doing, he responded, “I am afraid to give you any more shots. You will just have to hang in there while I cut.” He then asked the nurse to hold one of my hands and Mom the other. I clutched on tight because I felt every movement of the scalpel as he worked on the open cut. When he got done cutting and I thought it was all over, I was about to get up when the doctor said, “Hang in there!” Then he got some really long tweezers and opened the cut to push some gauze into it. He told me the gauze was to help drain out the infection and he would pull it out tomorrow.
Just as the doctor was about to put a cover on the cut, the nurse said, “Oh, no! Look, there is a hair.” She tried to pull it out, but it was too long. The doctor was afraid the hair would cause more infection, so he pulled out the gauze. By now, I was praying to pass out, but I was still wide awake as he proceeded to push in some new gauze.
When I got off the table it was hard to walk because it felt like I was going to pass out, and the fever seemed like it had gotten worse. As we walked out of the office, Mom said, “Come on. Let’s go to the candy store and I will buy you an ice cream. I told Mom I was too sick for ice cream and that I needed to hurry home so I could lie down.
Mom said, “Nonsense! WE are having ice cream!” And before I knew it we were in a candy store and Mom was handing me an ice cream. The lady next to me bumped my back and I started to pass out from the pain. I fell forward onto Mom and then onto the floor. Mom caught the ice cream just in time. I was so embarrassed, and as soon as I could, I got up and hurried out of the store. There was a bench outside where I could lie down. Mom handed me the ice cream and demanded that I eat it. I tried to tell her that I was too sick. Mom got upset and said, “I paid good money for it, so you better eat it!” I didn’t want any trouble so I did as I was told. When we got back to the house I laid down for the rest of the day.
Wednesday, August 11, 1976
I walked back into town to see the doctor. He pulled out the gauze, and then he said that I should be getting better in a couple of days.
When I came back to the house I laid down again. I knew Mom might get mad at me for not helping out, but I felt too sick to do anything, and the fever wouldn’t seem to let up.
Thursday, August 12, 1976
The fever wasn’t going down. I still didn’t feel any better and I wanted to stay on the couch. I didn’t have very many clothes to wear so I got up. I heated some water so I could wash them by hand. As soon as I was done with that I went to lie back down.
Later in the day, when it was time to go visit Mr. Ramsdahl, I told Mom that I was not feeling well and that I couldn’t go with her and Elisabeth. I hated being in the house by myself, but I was too sick to go along.
When Mom and Elisabeth came back, Mom said that Mr. Ramsdahl had been taken to the hospital because he had gotten sick from diabetes.
Friday, August 13, 1976
The boil was getting worse. Mom told me to go back to the doctor and ask for a prescription for penicillin. I felt too sick to go, but since I wanted to get better I forced myself to get up. When I got there, the receptionist seemed annoyed with me and said, “You can’t just come walking in here without an appointment! Besides, the office is closed for the weekend.” I told her that we didn’t have a phone and that I wasn’t feeling well.
The doctor came out because he was on his way home. He was surprised to see me, and then he also told me that I couldn’t just come in without an appointment. I told him I was sorry and I then explained to him that we didn’t have a phone. Since I wasn’t getting better, I had come only to ask for a prescription for penicillin. The doctor didn’t seem to believe me. He told me that I should be feeling better by now. He then asked me to come into his office so he could have a look at me. I could tell by the gasp he gave that he was shocked to see how bad the boil looked. He grabbed a really long Q-tip, put alcohol on it, and then he pushed it into my back. It seemed like it took forever for him to clean out the boil. Then he got the long tweezers and pushed some more gauze into it. As he wrote out a prescription for penicillin he said, “Make sure you keep it clean!”
When I left the doctor’s office, I went into the bathroom to dry off my tears and brush my hair so that I could go back into the street again. When I got outside I felt as if I was going to pass out, so I hurried and sat down on the curb. As I sat there, I wondered why nothing was going right for me.
When I got back to the house, I gave Mom the prescription for penicillin. When mom saw the prescription she got upset and started to yell at me and call me all kinds of names. She demanded to know how I could be so stupid as to ask for penicillin since I was allergic to it.
I had not had pills for two years. I had forgotten that I was allergic to penicillin and I only got what mom had asked me to get. Apparently, she too had forgotten that I couldn’t have penicillin until she saw the prescription.
I went back to the sofa so that I could rest. After I had slept for a little bit, Mom woke me up. She started to yell at me and called me lazy and good-for-nothing, then she demanded that I get up and do chores. I forced myself to get up. After I had done a few things, Mom said, “Get ready, we are going to the hospital to see Bent’s dad!” I didn’t want any more yelling so I came along.
When we got back from the hospital, Mom started in on me again. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I asked her to please stop. Then I added if I am such a bad person then why don’t you let me go. This only made her angrier. Mom grabbed Elisabeth by the hand and as she stormed out the door she said, “I am leaving now. I am going to have you locked up in a place where you can never get out!” I knew there was no such place and that mom only said that because that is what Bent used to always threaten Sander and me with while we lived in Canada. Personally, I know I would be better off if there was such a place.
After Mom had left, I looked around for my passport, but I could not find it. I figured Mom must have it in her purse. I was going to run out the door after Mom to ask her where she had put it. When I opened the door she was sitting on the step with Elisabeth. I asked Mom where my passport was. She told me it was none of my business. When I got back inside, I lay down because I was overwhelmed with exhaustion from the fever.
Sunday, August 15, 1976
Mom ordered me to get out of bed and do some chores. I told her I didn’t feel well. She then said, “It is your own fault since you are so stupid and can’t even ask the doctor for the right medicine.” Then she added, “Just because you have a boil is no excuse for laying around and doing nothing!” I could feel the fever was still high. I was afraid mom would start to hit me so I got up and did as I was told. As I pushed along, I dreamed of a place I could call, “home.”
Monday, August 16, 1976
When I got up I forced myself back into town so the doctor could pull the gauze out. When the doctor saw the boil, he seemed dismayed that I was not getting better. I told him I had not been able to take the medicine since I was allergic to penicillin. The doctor wrote me a different prescription and then he said, “After you take this, you should start to feel better. If you don’t, come see me again on Wednesday.” I went to the pharmacy and got the pills. After I got back to the house my fever had risen, and I needed to rest. I knew Mom would get upset, but I just couldn’t push myself any longer.
Sure enough, Mom started yelling and calling me names again. No matter how much she yelled, I just couldn’t get up. I was sure if I got up I would pass out. It ended with Mom saying, “Since you are so stupid, lazy, and good-for-nothing….get out of my life!” I asked Mom if this meant I was free to go back to Canada. She responded, “The sooner, the better! You are worthless! Get the hell out of my life!” I asked Mom if she would still pay for half the ticket as she had promised. Mom answered with a very stern, “Absolutely not!” As I lay there, I wondered if I would ever get better. I was relieved to know that, if I did, Nick would be more than willing to pay for my ticket and I would be going back to Canada.
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