She was hysterical, and difficult to understand. She kept telling me I knew who she was. I did. She said they'd stolen her saddle and taken the horse. I kept asking, WHO? and when I asked if she'd called the police, the story became just a bit clearer. She said her husband was punishing her, because she wouldn't leave. She told me several times- "I'm in the white house in Lone Pine. You know that house? the white house in Lone Pine!" The husband had sold the horse to the auction where she was positive her darling would be sold to a meat packer. He'd taken the saddle, too, and she didn't know where it was. She begged me to help her horse. "Save him! Oh please! oh please! SAVE HIM!" and when I told her I would get off the phone and call the police, she asked, 'Why?' and I said, "So I can try to save your horse!" and she said, "He's gone. All I can do is cry." I found out that all this had happened, not today, as I'd thought... but at least a week ago- and if so, then, yes. The auction was over. It didn't look good.
Occasionally, she mentioned a retired Sheriff, and said she'd been talking to him, and she wished she'd told him that she knew me. I finally figured out who she meant, and yes! I DID know him! This seemed like an avenue I could pursue to get help, so again, I told her I needed to get off the phone so I could call this friend. She asked me if I could wait, just a moment and hear.... oh I wish I could remember her exact words... a post? or a poem? whatever, it was a description. She went on to read a synopsis of a movie. It was long, and rambling, but she was having no problem focusing on it, and her words were clear and not slurred. She asked me if I knew Sissy? She became frustrated with me... Sissy! You know! Sissy! When I guessed Sissy Spacek? she was relieved. Yes, she told me. You do know her.
More talk- She trying to get me to understand. Me, trying valiantly, to comprehend. I had reached a point of being fairly desperate to get off the phone. We'd been talking over an hour, and I had jumped to the conclusion that she was drunk, even though at this point it was still only 12:30 pm. I told her I was going to go call our mutual friend to see what we could do about her situation, and she seemed ready to let me go, when she suddenly said, 'WAIT! there's a little dog.... in Kalispell. It's in a 3x9 cage and it has cysts. No dog deserves that! and it's lucky if it ever gets fed!' I murmured about how awful that was, and her voice changed into a child's. "Can I have him?' she begged me. "Please? I'll take care of him! Can we go get him now? We can overpower them and save the dog and I can take care of it! Can we?" I told her I would call our friend, and we'd see how to save the dog. She told me to take down the dog's number, and so I carefully wrote down the phone number for 'Jim' and repeated it back to her. She became calm- tired. And just before I hung up, she said, "I KNEW you loved me! That's why I called you!" With tears in my eyes, I told her I DID love her, and I hung up.
I found the number for the friend, and called, but no one answered. I puttered around the house, thinking... and remembered a friend of mine, active with supporting substance abusers and their families in working towards recovery. My thought was that, if this woman was an alcoholic, that perhaps someone knew her, and could go to her. You have to understand that I had a name, and the phone number she'd called from, and that was ALL. I'd met this woman 8 mos. prior ONCE in the parking lot of the local grocery store during an exchange that lasted all of 10 min. I wouldn't recognize her again if she walked in my door. I knew the easy thing to do would be to tell myself this was not MY problem- and that there really wasn't much I could do to help anyway. I called my friend, and she was not home. I puttered around the house thinking. Probably, I could call the number I had tomorrow... see if the woman was feeling better... see if she wanted to talk. I called Chelsey (my daughter) thinking that perhaps she'd have an idea of what agency I could call... or if I should... She wasn't home. So, I puttered about the house some more. And yes, I prayed.
Chelsey called awhile later, and when I told her the story, she said, 'It doesn't actually sound like she was drunk. It sounds more like a mental issue... perhaps a psychotic break? I think she needs help!' So, I hung up the phone, and called that mutual friend again... no answer. As I was walking into the living room to ask Bruce if I should call the Sheriff's office, I heard the scanner squawking- something about, "it appears self inflicted". It registered, but I couldn't really hear the transmission, and I dismissed it. Bruce said, 'Mere! WHAT are you going to TELL the dispatcher?' I wasn't sure. I wasn't even sure anything the woman was saying was true! But I couldn't walk away from this person in need. I thought, MAYBE the Sheriff's office would know of an agency that could help her.... find her.
I ended up calling the dispatch, and hanging up. I walked in circles for a minute or two, took a deep breath, and called again. I didn't want to bother the police if it was just a drunk woman who was sad, and would be mortified in the morning, but I kept hearing her say that she knew I loved her- and I knew I couldn't do nothing. So, I dialed again. I told dispatch that I wasn't sure they could help, but that I'd gotten a disturbing phone call from a woman I'd sold a saddle to 8 mos. ago. Dispatch said, 'WHY would she be calling YOU!' and I said, 'I know! that's just it!' I didn't have a lot of information, but as soon as I mentioned that the woman said she lived in a white house in Lone Pine, the dispatcher's voice changed tone. 'What is her name?' I told her, and she asked again, "What is her name?' I repeated it, and she said, 'Ma'am, an officer is with her'. I thought they meant that there was an officer in the area, but the dispatcher clarified, 'No. an officer is WITH her now. And he may need to talk to you. Will you give me your name and address?'
In looking back, I'm pretty sure she was the 911 call having something to do with "self-inflicted". And that makes me really sad, because I feel I didn't do enough, soon enough. Initially, I assumed the woman was drunk, or high on drugs- and who knows? maybe she was! BUT MAYBE she wasn't! A mental illness never crossed my mind- but I promise I will learn from THAT mistake. I angst-ed over bothering people... and that took up too much precious time. I will try to remember that, too. Every experience teaches us if we're open to learning. A friend of mine told me I did what I could with the tools I had available, but that I had, now, added tools to my experience. I was now better prepared.
Who knows why these things happen? Why, 8 mos. ago, I was privileged to sell my saddle to this exact woman, who would need me in the future? Are we done now? Or will our paths continue to cross? And will there come a day that I will need what I learned today in another situation? All I can say is that I felt "used".... not in a bad way... in a GOOD way. I was reticent, but basically willing. I see where I faltered, and where I need to do better.
LORD, make me an instrument of Your Peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
(my mother's favorite prayer, St. Francis of Assissi)
Perhaps I can be useful in this world still.
