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Discussion in 'Raising Baby Chicks' started by Blooie, Mar 4, 2015.
I'd be happy to tell you the story, Deb, if you wouldn't mind a "cut 'n paste" from an earlier thread!
Me? Mind sharing a Blooie story anywhere? Never happen! I'll find it.
I found it on another thread so I'm doing the old copy and paste - complete with a photo of my accomplice! And here we go -
I was hospitalized in Billings, Montana, after I contracted gangrene in my left hand. On May 30th I was fine - just a little hole in the top of my hand - and on May 31 I was in St. Vincent's signing permission for amputation. Scary time, let me tell you! I spent the next 10 days up there getting IV antibiotics - 3 different ones, one after the other, day in and day out for the entire time. Every night after 6:00 I was NPO - nothing by mouth - because they didn't know from day to day if I would be heading back to surgery for either another debridement or amputation. That decision had to wait until the surgeon made rounds.
Now, at St. V's they did meals a little differently. You picked up the phone whenever you wanted, and dialed the kitchen. You told them what you wanted and if their computer showed no dietary restrictions, you got it. Want Raisin Bran and a roast beef sandwich at 6 am? You got it. Burger and fries at 11:00 pm? Yep. And soon after you ordered a person decked out in a vest and tie would knock on your door, announce "Room Service" and bring in your order. Problem with that was that from the time I woke up until the time the doctor finally made his rounds, I was smelling all that food going by my room, and he usually didn't make rounds until around 11:00 am. I was starving, having not eaten since 6 the night before and then spending all that time smelling food being brought by for others. I complained, but it didn't help. Until he came in, unwrapped my hand, checked it, and re-dressed it, nothing could be brought to me.
One day I'd had enough. One of the volunteers came by with a gift cart and I spotted a little white bear, dressed in scrubs,a surgical hat and a surgical mask. I bought it. Then I took some of the bandage roll out of the supply drawer in my room and carefully constructed a hangman's noose. I put it around the teddy bear's neck and hung it from the door hinge in my room - effectively hanging my doctor in effigy. I wrote the doctor's name on the front in blue ink.....boldly! Staff was just rolling. When the doctor came in he was stunned. He is famous as a superb surgeon, but he doesn't have the quickest sense of humor.
So we had a nice "conversation", the result of which was that he came in to check on me as soon as he arrived at the hospital - around a respectable 8 am or so, sometimes even earlier. And all of my nurses, his nurse, and Dr. Sukin himself autographed my bear's little back when I was discharged - with my hand intact! I didn't get my bandages off until the first week in October, and had two more debridement operations on that hand during the summer, but he saved it.
The kicker was that he wasn't even a hand surgeon. His specialty is large joint replacement. But he happened to be on call the night I came in, and it took him no time at all to take total charge. He assembled a crack team with a plastic surgeon and an infectious disease specialist and they worked very well together. My hand became his obsession in a strange sort of way....it was something out of his area of expertise and he did what several other doctors on staff thought couldn't be done. I have absolutely NO complaints about his treatments or my care - except for starving to death! When it came time for a hip replacement, he was my surgeon of choice. Because he already knew about my previous history, he took extra precautions, which I appreciated deeply. Even with all the extra care, I still got serious cellulitis in my hip, which meant that when most 70 year olds were leaving the hospital 4-5 days after surgery, I, at only 52, was still there a week later, IV antibiotics again, and then I had to have 2 other operations on it. Because of the gangrene, I don't heal well, so the IT band that holds everything together didn't heal. The internal dissolvable sutures dissolved before the tissue had healed. The third operation repaired the band with permanent sutures. He said my next option was barbed wire. The IT band ruptured a 4th time. We just left it as it is. None of this was his fault, but I loved teasing him about it.
He got me back. One particularly bad, painful day, I was laying in my head dozing off when I felt someone looking at me. I opened my eyes and he was standing in the doorway. He grinned at me. "If you had brown eyes you'd look like a cocker spaniel."
OH what a delightful story.... again PROOF that you need to write a book....
Omg! Thats hilarious! I wish i had had the guts to do something like that when i was in a similar situation. I just recall being starving and despising the long wait. Good for you Blooie!
Btw, my little crook neck chick is doing ok. Finely eating grit and mash on her own but haven't seen her take water on her own yet. I kept finding her in the middle of the coop during the night. The last i checked was around 1:30 am and around 68 degrees. I heard her on the baby monitor at 6am cheeping away. I dont know if she is being kicked out from the heating pad or what. How long without heat is ok?
Edited for grammatical error
Just an update on the littles. My smallest with the wry neck sadly, passed away on friday night. I grew so attached to her in such a short time and it hurt to loose her. I cant help to wonder if I made mistakes or if i had done things differently would i still have her. I try not to play the what if game since im just beating myself up so instead I am telling myself that i can look forward to the spring so i can get another buff orp chick. But since she can't be alone, i will have to get an austrolorp to keep her company! Lol im not very good with regular math but chicken math makes much more sense to me now!
Sometimes there is nothing to do... but keep them as comfortable as possible.
You did all that you could, and that's all there is to that. Sometimes, as Deb says, there is just nothing left to do. I'm so sorry that she's gone, but the worry and fussing is behind you now. Onward and upward - and time for and update and some pictures of the others. I'll bet they've grown by leaps and bounds!