I do love my chickens. In case anyone takes this wrong. The first group came here in 2020, and they have been part of my life ever since. Overall, they live a good life, doing what North American Dirt Parrots love to do: free-range and wander around all day.
Then predator season begins, which occurs in late Spring. Every coyote, raccoon, Bald Eagle, and Hawk shows up, all wanting chicken for dinner.
We usually lose a couple of hens (and this year, we lost a rooster), and then it is time to lose free-ranging privileges for the foreseeable future. The chickens were returned to their run.
The problem is, they had left a LOT of holes in the garden area. Normally I can see them, but we had a cool and wet Spring. The grass just kept growing. I meant to get out there, and find them, and fill them. And to mow. But anyone with a homestead knows…you have only so many hours in the day, and so many hours to wrangle children to help.
It is Day 19 out.
I was nearly done with my chores, trying to get everything done before the heat got bad, but we also had people coming over. I was heading up the slope, dragging a charged natural rubber hose. With the hose over my right arm, I walked awkwardly and turned slightly right. The hose is heavy and doesn’t slide easily.
And this is what my right foot went into. It was deep and hidden in the grass (mowed there). With my awkward tugging, I never had a chance to balance myself. I went down in a blink.
I am grateful my youngest was with me. I went from normal to about a 9 in pain instantly. I had fallen hard on my left arm. I knew something wasn’t right, I couldn’t move my arm or control it.
Alistaire went running for Kirk. By then I somehow had gotten up (always do squat day, ok? That is the only reason I was able to get up!) and got to a chair a few feet away.
What entailed was a very painful 17-mile drive to the hospital, where I could feel that things were not connected. I am grateful I was not home alone. Nor working alone.
Then, being a rural hospital, I sat for THREE HOURS in the waiting room until I got taken for x-rays. They finally got me into a room. And I got a line in, finally getting pain meds.
All free floating.
Good times.
It was bad enough they had to put me under to reset it. I have no memory of that, but I was “talking” while they did it. I am sure I was screaming and cussing, though the respiratory nurse, of course, denied I was cussing; I know myself, though.
Seven hours in, I was released in a splint and sling.
While I did chip a bone, I didn’t fracture anything. Instead, I had a bad dislocation.
Around ten days in, I saw an orthopedic doctor and had more X-rays done. He was happy with its healing, and I was told to quit using the sling. I had already removed the splint 2 days before, as it was digging into my arm so painfully.
The swelling was starting to come down, but the colors were just starting.
As the yellow started.
I was fortunate in some ways. I didn’t break or fracture my wrist falling.
The yellow and green stage.
The evening of Day 18. The only yellow and green is up on my wrist, with the deepest bruising still visible.
My arm swelling has gone down quite a bit, though now, without that “padding,” I can feel the deep internal bruising. It is like a hard-boiled egg under my skin.
I keep using my arm and fingers as much as I can. The back of my hand can be painful (a lot of the blood from the bruising went that way), but I keep at it. I can type with both hands again. I am so used to typing by feel. I can cook and clean, and I could finally start showering without help.
It’s frustrating when one is independent and needs everyone’s help to do simple tasks. I didn’t like the first week when I needed pain meds just to be able to sleep. Opiates clouded my mind, and I weaned myself off as soon as I could. I still take ibuprofen when it gets really bad, but I am trying to take under two doses a day.
I can’t water the gardens (the boys have stepped up); they care for the chickens. I am not quite ready to drive again. While I can wave back and forth and pick up light items, I can only drop my arm about 60-65% down. I want to be farther out before I drive again, and I also want my wrist and hand to be fully flexible again.
My oldest son went out with me during week one, and we found all the holes with a trekking pole (poking while walking, then marking the holes), then he filled them in. This fall, once the rain returns, Kirk is going to use a land plane to reshape the land down there and remove any swales and gullies that, yay, the chickens created in their quest to have a million dust baths.
It’s wrecked a lot of my summer plans, for sure. No unlimited hiking. No work on the gardens. It’s just keeping them alive. I was about to start a permaculture project, making spirals to grow herbs and strawberries that will wait till fall or winter. However, it’s given me the time to putter close to the house, tidy up the mess, weed my herb beds and such. It’s also given me time to restart my herbalist studies.
Still, you almost feel like the chickens were waiting. To take me down.
~Sarah