Plan B

Just about the time we get to thinking we can chart our own course, plan our own timetable and rubber-stamp our destiny, life comes along and puts us on crutches. Literally. Figuratively.

The CE was thinking that by two weeks out of surgery, it was time to don the Hawaiian shirts and charge back into action.

His first outing was to church last Sunday

He and his cast even went out to dinner

He made it up to the house to pay some bills and insisted he was ready for a few outings. For all I know, he might have been contemplating an afternoon of bowling or a game of pick-up basketball, but instead, there was the Smackdown. Pain is, apparently, your body’s way of telling you you’re an idiot.

And the pain was severe.

A call to the surgeon’s office provided some clarity: “You had a big honking surgery, one of the worst cases we’ve ever seen, and you are not getting better any time soon so take your pain medication and for the sake of all that is holy, SIT STILL!”

Thus, for the remainder of the week, there has been a lot of sitting still. For him. Victoria, Alexandra and I scurry around like the mice in Disney’s Cinderella (whistling while we work, of course) and rather miraculously, things have not yet completely fallen apart.

Birdie likes the new arrangement; he visits the CE in the pool house every day

Except for the loss of Amelia, of course.

Now there are two

We still don’t know definitively what caused Amelia’s death. I called the vet for clarification and she assured me that she had ruled out every possible communicable infection or virus.

Her best guess was that Amelia sustained an injury that affected the spinal cord and cut off nerve supply to her organs and caused them to shut down. I think that’s a stretch since we were unaware of any injury she might have sustained, but without a necropsy, we will never know what happened to her. On any given day, there are up to a dozen posts on backyard chicken web sites from people whose chickens die mysteriously; as a species, chickens are fragile.

Life is short. Autumn decides to be pro-active about finding treats.

Two chickens is not an optimum number. They are flock animals; there is safety and companionship in numbers. Under ideal conditions I would immediately bring in new chicks, but cannot do so until the CE is up and around. Time of year is also a consideration as availability is scarce until spring. Therefore, the plan is for Autumn and Hope to hang on together until spring.  Although, of course,  we all knows what happens when we make plans…

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in All Things Poultry, Annoyances of Life, Chicken Facts, Pain and Misery, Sad and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Plan B

  1. A says:

    Did Cast enjoy medium or hot pico de gallo?
    This post makes me feel guilty for wearing flip flops and not my running shoes with my orthodics….
    Hang tough all. Xo

  2. Katherine says:

    Yikes! Here’s your problem: sending Birdie into the pool house to watch the CE. Start sending Chloe in to sit on him. He won’t be so quick to get up.

    (Sending gentle hugs and hopes for a speedier recovery.)

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