"They're burying old Brother Jim Mullen over here today. He was an old
man. They buried one here last Sunday--eighty some odd. Brother Mullen
had been sick for thirty years. Died settin' up--settin' up in a chair.
The old folks is dyin' fas'. Brother Smith, the husband of the old lady
that brought you down here, he's in feeble health too. Ain't been well
for a long time.
"Look at that place on my head. (There was a knot as big as a hen
egg--smooth and shiny--ed.) When it first appeared, it was no bigger
then a pea, I scratched it and then the hair commenced to fall out. I
went to three doctors, and been to the clinic too. One doctor said it
was a busted vein. Another said it was a tumor. Another said it was a
wen. I know one thing. It don't hurt me. I can scratch it; I can rub it.
(She scratched and rubbed it while I flinched and my flesh crawled--ed.)
But it's got me so I can't see and hear good. Dr. Junkins, the best
doctor in the community told me not to let anybody cut on it. Dr. Hicks
wanted to take it off for fifty dollars. I told him he'd let it stay on
for nothin'. I never was sick in my life till a year ago. I used to
weigh two hundred ten pounds; now I weigh one hundred forty. I can lap
up enough skin on my legs to go 'round 'em twice.
"Since I was sick a year ago. I haven't been able to get 'round any. I
never been well since. The first Sunday in January this year, I got
worse settin' in the church. I can't hardly get 'round enough to wait on
myself. But with what I do and the neighbors' help, I gets along
somehow.