All Is Not Well!

   Son and I have been clearing a spot back behind the greenhouse and shed for yet another greenhouse.  This one, my sweet sister-in-law gave to me.  It is one of those sort of popup things that have the green plastic top but I am excited because I plan on putting it over some raised gardens.  Fresh veggies in the middle of winter sound delightful.  Son decided that clearing the spot was the perfect chore for this week so we have been busy for the past four days.  Now, he will have to complete the task by himself.  I am sort of incapacitated.

  My chore this morning was to pick up the roots that he was digging from the ground and toss them on a pile near the marsh edge.  There, he could move the whole bunch without too much trouble.  Well, on one of the trips down the hill in the wooded area, I found a pier board.  This is not unusual as Hurricane Zeta plopped them everywhere.  The bad part is, the board was covered with about six inches of leaves and, well, I found it the hard way.  The board had nails.  My soft sneaker was no challenge for those nails and my foot now bears the results of that savage attack.  I stepped right on one of the nails and impaled the right foot.  Ouch! 

  I feel bad that Son will have to complete this project but the foot is not being too happy, at the moment.  Hopefully, this will be a short and sweet recovery and I will be back in the gardens again soon.  If it isn't one thing, it is another.  Goodness!

Happy! Happy!

  For months now, the old dog has been ailing.   The poor, old pup just could not shake the maladies that vexed him so.  Actually, there was not just one thing wrong but a build-up of a multitude of things.  He had a fungal nasal infection, a fast growing tumor on his hind leg, a scratched eyeball (his doing), arthritis, the beginnings of congestive heart failure and...well, age.  He probably could have shaken one or two but when all piled together at once, he was not faring well.  That said, I started tackling one problem at a time.  For some odd reason, the regular vet did not want to give him a strong antibiotic.  He prescribed a weak one and only for one week.  Allergy pills and pain pills, however, were plenteously plied.  The tumor situation was not addressed "until we get the other things under control" and then "proceed with caution due to the heart".  I was perplexed.  Herbal concoctions brought a good bit of relief for the sinus situation but did not fully remedy it.  Poor fellow suffered in silence.

  Then, a deer fly bit him on the eye lid causing him to scratch.  That scratch caused an injury to the eyeball and led to an emergency visit to the pet hospital.  While there, I questioned the vet that owns the hospital about the tumor.  He agreed that it needed to be removed and said we would do it right away.  I felt a bit of turmoil about the risk but was assured that things would go safely.  The surgery was a success and Mr. PJ came home the next morning with a bandaged leg and the cone of shame on his head.  That cone seemed to be far more troubling than the surgery.  He hated it!  I hated it.  First, because it did not keep the dog from reaching the incision site and second, with the thing the size of a bucket on his head, he knocked over everything in the house!  The normally very easy dog magically turned into a bull in the china shop. 

  After two weeks of torture, it was time to have the staples removed and the incision checked.  The cone came off and Mr. PJ is happier than I have seen him in a long time.  While at the pet hospital, I questioned the doctor again.  "Since PJ has been on the medicines you prescribed, the sinus problem has dramatically improved. Do you think we can continue?"  YES!!!  I came home with a new supply of the antibiotics. The cone came off and Mr. PJ is happier than I have seen him in a long time. Oh, happy day! Mr. PJ can breathe again, can rest easy with no bucket on his head and does not have a pound and a half of extra garbage hanging on his leg.  He can actually trot again!   It does the heart good to know that I made the right decision about his care. It would be so grand if he continued to heal and live the rest of his days pain free.  It would also be grand if the veterinarians at the pet hospital could see him on a regular basis and not just for emergencies!

Beauty Can Be Misleading!

   When I was a kid, play toys and games were hard to come by.  More oft than not, we had to "make" our fun.  Instead of being tied to an electronic gizmo like kids today, we were told to go outside and play after the chores were done. (Yes!  This was way back in the day when kids had chores!  Those odd things that molded our character and made us have good work ethics.) Anyway, usually, the playtime outside involved some type critter.  It was not beyond Mom to find my brother and me (we were the two youngest of five kids) playing with some wild animal or reptile or insect.  There was the time that we brought baby foxes home after finding them in a den in the woods.  Sadly, we were made to go return our puppies to their home and it is a wonder that we did not get attacked by the mom fox.  And there was another time when baby rabbits were our play friends.  That time, the mom rabbit was keeping a careful eye on her brood.  She was there with us.  Baby birds were always a happy find but Mom drew the line when she caught us playing with a moccasin.  Insects, on the other hand, were neat little toys,  With a stern warning of "Do not get stung" ringing in our ears, we would catch all sorts of critters and pretend they were the occupants of our dirt village.  Often, tiger beetles became our residents but if those could not be found, we relented and caught several velvet ants.  Yep, both of those can inflict stings (or bites in the case of the beetle).  How we never were on the receiving end of this viciousness, remains a secret.

  Today, I was out emptying some remnants into the compost pile when I found a beautiful velvet ant bustling about the place.  She darted here and there in search of some untold treasure.  Actually, she was probably hunting for a bumblebee hole but that is a different tale.  As she darted around, I tried to photograph her.  This is difficult to do with her speed!  Later, I put the photograph on social media and received all sorts of comments of stings.  My goodness!  Obviously, the velvet ant (also known as a cow killer ant) has a rather devastating effect on humans.  I had no idea it would be so bad but tales of excruciating pain abound. 

  I pondered if there was some mystical, magical reason why I have never been stung.  Perhaps, these critters felt no fear from my intrusion or perhaps I was just lucky.  I have gone barefoot my entire life but now I am having second thoughts that I might step on one of the wasps.  (Yes, velvet ants are actually female wasps.)  I am not sure that at my age I need to experience such foretold pain.  Thankfully, I have grown passed the stage of wanting to catch the velvet ants so maybe I will be spared the agony.  After hearing all of the stories of extreme pain, I figure those wasps can just go about their merry way with no interruption from me.  Whew!

"It will all come out in the wash"

  Just when things seem to be at their roughest point, along comes a little happy surprise that often makes things all better.  With the old dog having major problems, I have sort of neglected myself.  A few days ago, he collapsed and I made a mad dash to catch him.  His legs buckled in the most painful position and I knew that I needed to lift him so he could "unfold" a bit.  Dropping down to one knee, I propped my other leg up under the nigh on 70 lb dog to support him.  Well, it worked well for him but did me no favors.  The knee that has given me problems in the past is now very painful.  Now, there are two of us limping, moaning and groaning.   (At least, I am not yelping!)  This being hurt is not helping me with anything so it just needs to go away...and fast.  At least with the old dog feeling his age, our walks are slow so my knee is not being jarred more than need be.  

  On one of these snail-paced walks, I was pondering all of the things that needed doing.  A lot of chores have been put on hold lately and I need to get it in gear.  With the Clue Hunt on the Bayou just a matter of weeks away, things are piling up.  The house is a mess with the interior redo, the yard is a mess since I cannot push a lawnmower and nary a prop has been made for the hunt.  My brain was reeling with dismal thoughts.  As I limped along the side path, things suddenly got a lot brighter.  It seems as if Pop was sending me a message that things would work out ok.  His famous saying was "Oh, don't worry, it will all come out in the wash."  Somehow things always did.  But that message or sign, if you would rather, came in the form of a small cluster of flowers.  

  Pop always had the most beautiful yard.  His flower gardens were impeccably clean and there were year-round blooms.  One of his pride and joy plants was the purple phlox that grew shoulder high and had clusters of blooms a good 15 inches in diameter.  These were the "talk of the town" with folks often stopping in just to see them.  Well, fast forward to today.  A few blooms were found in a neglected area of the garden.   Pop had given me a start years ago and they grew despite all odds.  Neglect, rabbits and even hurricanes did not destroy the plants.  While one may think it should be expected that I found the few blooms, it should not have happened.  Just last month, I dug up the entire clump and gave them to Darling Daughter for her gardens.  Now, just when I needed a "pick me up", I stumbled (literally) upon the blooms.  Granted, they are not the huge things that Pop grew but they had a huge impact on me.  It will all come out in the wash.

  So....now I have no whiny excuse.  Hurt leg or not, I will listen to Pop and get myself motivated.  Things will be accomplished but only one step at a time.  I will prioritize things and make a difference each day.  Like those tiny blooms that refuse to give up, I will not let setbacks get me down.  It WILL all come out in the wash!  Thanks, Pop!  I really needed that!

Down in his back

  Years ago whenever he was feeling poorly, Pop would say he was "down in his back".  This was usually a sore back caused by overwork on the farm.  The stress and strain of lifting heavy objects or the strain on the back from working the rows with a hoe often caused soreness and stiffness.  Pop carried on without much ado about it other than making the aforementioned statement and taking a "Doan's Backache Pill".  One of those little green pill cans could always be found sitting on the gun rack of all places!  Whatever worked, I guess.

  But now, Mr. PJ, the old dog, is down in his back.  Arthritis and age are taking a toll on the poor dog.  Even with the doggie version of backache pills, he still yelps in pain and trembles until I pull him toward me and hold tight to him.  It seems to comfort him to know someone cares.  I do.  He and I have endured a long, couple of sleepless nights.  His pain seems to worsen at night causing him to be disoriented and frightful.  Until he finds me, he panics.  

  Although he has only been on the Bayou for a year now, he has become "mine".  He and I are never apart and it worries me to see him in so much pain.  Poor old Mr. PJ.  My heart breaks. 

  

On The Mend

  The old dog, Mr. PJ has been suffering a good bit with his arthritis, as of late.  The poor, old dog would yelp in pain with each shift in position as he tried to nap.  His back legs stiffened to the point that he could hardly walk.  He was mighty uncomfortable, to say the least, and getting him up and down the steps of the Little Bayou House was a tremendous chore for me.  Mr. PJ is a large dog and I am not the strongest person.  I, too, have arthritis and helping the dog in and out was strenuous on me.  Son helped a good bit when he could but a lot of times the need was too urgent to wait for him to get here.  I toted the dog. One night, it was eleven times that I had to struggle to get the 67 pound dog out to potty.  Most of the time, there was not the true "urge" but rather hip and lower back pains making him think the outing was needed.  The poor animal was distraught and could not rest unless I was with him.  The first night, I sat near his bed and petted him for the entire night. The next morning, we made a visit to the vet.  Mr. PJ was checked and given a prescription but we were told that it would take several days for the pain to subside.  For two nights afterward, I slept on the floor consoling the pup. 

  Mr. PJ's health has been improving daily.  With the medicine in him, he is able to go up and down the steps.  He is happily taking long, albeit slow, hikes about the hillside again and, today, was elated to get on the pier.  His favorite napping spot had been sorely missed.  (I had been leery of his being over the water because he was stumbling a good bit.)  It is good to see my sweet friend being more active and looking happy again!

If All Shopping Was This Easy

  I admit it.  I am slacking.  The Little Bayou House is still not fully decorated, the shopping has yet to be finished and not one cookie has been baked.  Pain in my right side has kept me from doing all of the things that I love to do during the holiday season.  For the past four months, I have been prodded, poked and given all sorts of medicines. (None of which helped. by the way.)  Then as quickly as the pain came, it disappeared...for one day.  One day!  I was pain free yesterday and accomplished more in that twenty four hours than I have in months. This morning, thinking all was well, I started with gusto!  I was painting gourds at 5am and decorating the toy room for the kiddos by 7am.  All was going well until 8am.  Then, as I reached up to hang garland, I felt the stabbing pains return.  Ugh!  When will this stop?  I doubled over in agony and the garland still dangles precariously from the shelf.  It can wait.

  Yesterday, Darling Daughter, Elizabeth did take me shopping but after several hours of searching for decorations for her house, I bought one gift....for her.  While I pondered over several gifts for others, she spied lamps for her porch and lamented that she would love to have them.  Yep, I stole her idea.  She is now getting four solar lamps as her gift.  I have to admit that they are really nice lamps.  I had a grand idea of getting a porch swing for her but who knew that they would be out of stock during December?  Doesn't everybody sit on their front porch in the dead of winter?  Obviously not.  So, the lamps will suffice and perhaps the swing can be an anniversary gift later in May.  I (and she) was happy with my purchase.  Still, that does not mark a lot of folks off of my shopping list.  

  Hopefully, I will complete all of the pending chores in time for the big day but if not, folks will just have to understand.  One day of being pain free is just not enough.  I am trying....I am trying.  I do have Elizabeth's gift, though! Now if I could just get everyone else to tell me what they would like, life would be easier.

 

Hiding the pain

  Sometimes darkness can bring fear and trepidation but then sometimes it can disguise a lot of ugliness and pain.  The hurt heron is a faithful visitor to the pier each day.  I try to catch it plenty to eat since it is nigh on impossible for it to catch fish without being able to wade. The ankle is healing over but will always be painful for the bird.  Since the leg bone was not set, the foot will always be lame.  The heron undoubtedly will live with horrendous pain for the rest of its life.  My goal is to help this bird in any way I can since it was spurned by the wildlife rescue people.

  Despite the obvious pain that the bird endures, it always seems to be willing to try.   This evening, it came to visit and fill up on fish that Mark and I caught in our nets as we were throwing for shrimp.  It would wait patiently until I called it to eat a fish.  It never attempted to snatch the shrimp unless I tossed them to it.  I kept thinking of what a beautiful bird this was and how it is such a shame that it will always have to endure this hardship. 

  After getting its belly full, the bird flew up to the top of one of the pier posts to spend the night.  If anyone not familiar with the circumstances had seen the bird, they would have never guessed it was hurt.  The darkness had blocked out the view of the ugliness.  It had masked the pain from everyone but the bird itself.  For all others, it was just a lovely silhouette of fine bird.  But the bird was well aware of the crippling effect that its injury would have on the entirety of its life.  As I photographed the bird, my heart was breaking.

  Mark and I decided that we should continue to feed our friend.  We are going to freeze packets of fish so we can continue to help the bird come this winter.  It will especially need food once the cold weather comes.  Hopefully, we can make life a bit easier for our fine, feathered friend.

Ouch!

  My son is one of those folks that almost never wears shoes.  Even though he is a grown man now, he would much rather tromp about the hillside sans shoes.  I cannot fuss at him since I often do the same and on the rare occasions that I do wear shoes, they are simple leather moccasins.  (No hard sole shoes for me!)  Still, this treading about without something protecting your feet can be dangerous.  He found out just how dangerous inanimate items can be.  

  We were racing out to cover up a load of lumber before a thunderstorm decided to dump about an ocean of water from the sky.  The plywood and other boards would be soaked if we did not do something quick.  He hopped over the cactus garden to grab a tarpaulin that could be used for such a job.  When his foot landed, it landed directly on a wicked, rusty tack.  This was one of those Simplex nails that are used to attach sheeting to roofs.  It has a square metal base and an 1 1/2 inch long nail poking straight up.  The metal base causes the nail to always be pointing upward as if it is just aiming for some hapless person's bare foot.  That unfortunate person was Son.  His heal came down squarely on top of the nail.  It jabbed into his foot the entire inch and a half.  Poor guy!  That had to be excruciatingly painful!

  He reached down to pull the nail out of his foot but it seemed to be quite stuck.  It took some doing to pry it out and once he did, the blood started gushing.  I called to Darling Daughter to make "THE" soak. As he hobbled into the house, she filled a plastic pan with hot water and added a Epsom Salts.  Into this a heaping lot of ground turmeric and oregano was stirred.  I know this sounds like an odd foot soak, but trust me....it works.  Both the turmeric and oregano have antibiotic properties that can immediately set to work on bacteria and possibly prevent infection. 

  I covered the lumber while Son soaked his foot.  Darling Daughter kept him company and told him jokes to make him forget about the throbbing pain.  When I came inside, she had him laughing.  Even though these two are adults now, they sure can act like kids!  It was good to hear!  Son will have to take a few days off from shed-building but has volunteered to make the fig jam and tomato sauce.  Since he will take over some of my chores, I will be out swinging a hammer!  It has been a long time since Mark and I worked together on a building project. It should be interesting. As his foot will bear watching for the next week or so, Son will be confined to the indoors.  If it starts to look bad, a doctor's visit will definitely be on the agenda.