Editorial: The conqueror worm

‘That the play is the tragedy, “Man,” and its hero, the Conqueror Worm’

– Edgar Allan Poe

Sonoma can border the extremes of human existence like few other places.

I was reminded of this last week when news came through that the La Campagna property in Kenwood had been purchased for $40 million-plus, paving the way for the possible development of a 50-room inn and winery on 186 pristine acres at the north end of the Valley – another resort catering to the fine lifestyle enjoyed by so many who come to Wine Country.

That same day, a woman came to see me about a story she said was of vital importance to the state of the county’s health. Into my office walked Kathy (not her real name); she appeared well over 60, used a cane and was noticeably thin. Kathy’s story was strange and disturbing.

A few months ago, she woke to find a small white worm on her arm; it burrowed into her skin and was gone. Now, Kathy says, she has maggots. Maggots in her eyes, nose and mouth. They’re on her skin and in her food. Small, white and terrifying.

Medical professionals, however, can’t seem to see them. Two doctors have told her she’s hallucinating. They referred her to a mental-health clinic, but her visit didn’t rid her of the scourge.

She pulled back a bandage on her arm to show me a small wound where she said the maggots could be seen, and handed me a magnifying glass from her bag.

Kathy said she was staying at a local homeless shelter, but prior to that had been living in her car. But the nights have grown too cold for sleeping in the backseat of a beat up four-door, even in temperate Sonoma.

She told me about how the maggots plague her at night, and I thought of my 4-year-old daughter, Evie, who also struggles to sleep through the night, and fears strange things in the dark. And I thought: Kathy, too, was someone’s baby once; she was someone’s darling little girl.

Before she left, Kathy’s face welled up and she said, “I just want someone to believe me... I just want to be believed.”

Kathy will likely never stay at any resort developed for vacationers in Kenwood, or anywhere else for that matter. She possesses little more than a thin walking stick, a magnifying glass, and several plastic grocery bags stuffed into a sun-bleached '80s hatchback – and she wants only two things from life:

To be believed.

And for the maggots to go away.

Sonoma can border the extremes of human existence like few other places.