Call Out Our Pluck

2 AM Saturday
"So," Renee asked, "did you ever dream we would be doing this?"
"If I'd have known," Laura groaned, "I'd have gone to bed earlier."

Laura and I were standing elbow to elbow pulling pinfeathers from two little roosters we had just harvested.  You see, a raccoon inspired us to butcher these little beauties.  At about 1:30 a.m. we were all awakened by a ruckus in the yard where the chickens are penned.  Horrendous scream after horrendous blood-curdling scream exploded from the pen of the little cockerels.  The screams only briefly blotted out the flop and drumming of dozens of wings as they were fighting off the intruder.

Peter, Richard and I grabbed flashlights and ran out to find a raccoon scrambling about in the pen.  In the beams of our lights he was groping to find his exit point while we were circling the pen to find his entry point.  The areas we had feared vulnerable were still soundly fortified.  The pen still looked impenetrable but the presence of the coon was chilling testimony to our error.   We three circled and circled the pen, as the raccoon ran to the concealed roofed area of the chickens' roosts.  The poor little terrified and battle-weary cockerels cowered in the farthest corner from the raccoon.  I ran to enlist John and Emory, Peter ran to get the air rifle, and Richard continued searching the pen for the breach.

While circling the pen, Richard tried to keep an eye on the vermin, but with only one flashlight beam to illuminate the area the raccoon was able to slip out. Since Richard was near the cowering cockerels when he noted the raccoon's absence he deduced the breach in cage integrity was on the opposite side in the roofed chicken roost area.  Relaxed that the critter was gone, Peter and Richard opened the gate to the roost area.  Aha, the hole the raccoon had created - it had pushed the fencing away from where the roofing extended down.  Some clips and nails had given way letting a slit open in the construction. Emory held a flashlight while Peter wove taunt wire into the fencing to repair the slit.

As they worked Richard tallied the damage. The count yielded five casualties - one dead and four wounded. Two of the wounded needed recovery time and further assessment later at a more civil hour.  The other two were in critical condition needing immediate harvest.

In the time it took to boil water, Richard sorted out how to butcher the chickens.  He had to reach back in his vintage memories to a time when he was a young boy at his maternal grandmother's side.  For me, I discovered I had no memory of how to process a chicken.  By the time I was old enough to learn chicken butchering my grandparents were all dead, and my parents had discovered a butchery that would process home-grown chickens.  So much for being a farm girl!

Richard slaughtered, dipped in hot water and plucked the birds.  He brought the carcasses in for Laura and me to finish cleaning.  Since he plucked them by the light of a single yellow bug light on the porch many feathers were left behind.  Laura and I had our work laid out for us.  We mustered our pluck (courage) and plunged in.  A half hour later we came up for air. Together we survived our learning and grew in female bonding over the sacrificed cockerels. By 4 a.m. we all went to bed.

We relied on memories to build memories beyond our dreams.

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde

We just came out of a couple rough days.  I was ready to throw in the towel, but only if I would get to throw out the patient.  Let me explain. 

Richard had been on two medications post-operatively – one was an anti-seizure medication and the other was an older medicine used to stimulate restoring connections in the brain. At his doctor’s visit Tuesday Richard was instructed to discontinue the anti-seizure med by tapering off.  The connection stimulator could just be discontinued if he felt it had not been making a difference.  Richard immediately stopped the connection stimulator and began tapering the anti-seizure one.  Gradually over the next two and a half days we did see a change, but it took us until this morning (Friday) to get the full picture. 

First back on Wednesday, Richard started to turn grumpy. By bedtime he no longer saw humor in anything, not even obvious word plays as the children bantered in the living room.  Then Thursday morning he started the day like a raging four-year-old.  A grown man with the temper of a spoiled four-year-old is not a pretty sight, so the sensible family members provided ample room for Richard to have things his way. He was growing into a regular Mr. Hyde. By bedtime Richard was beside himself in agitation.  I finally talked him into accepting a backrub, the very thing that I had used with irrational four-year-olds in years past.  He finally relaxed and went to sleep.

Friday morning he arose feeling quite sheepish over the agitation of the day before, but he still felt powerless to avert another such day.  He kept repeating, “I’m so confused.  I’m in a fog.” His blood pressure was fine along with his other vital signs, but his gait was so unsteady that I ordered everyone in the family keep the basement door closed lest he tumble down.  Also, I insisted that he not even think about going to the basement to fold laundry while he was so wobbly.

After breakfast he simply sat in his recliner with his robe hood pulled over his face.  I held a discussion with the talking robe and we decided to resume his connection stimulator medication.  An hour and a half later he put the robe hood back and it looked like we had pleasant Dr. Jekyll back with us. Today has been fine.  Richard is more like his old self, enjoying a jest and a story.  Why, twice in the kitchen as I was preparing supper he even came up to me for a little kissy-face.  Let me tell you, it will be some weeks before I let him put that connection stimulator medicine aside.   

Regeneration Moments

Thursday night at 10:47 p.m. I was awakened from a sound sleep by Richard’s tossing and turning.

“You okay, honey?” I asked.

“No, I’m awake and my mind is running.  I can’t get my thoughts in order and …”

“Go on,” I invited, drowsily.

“I can’t!” he exclaimed and struck the mattress with his palm.

Oh, duh! I couldn’t believe I could be so dumb. Now I was fully awake and a partner to his racing mind.  I needed to help him defuse his running mind and maybe help him open his gates of verbal expression. 

I began by asking some simple questions about his physical comfort.  “Do you want a pain pill?” “Are you a comfortable temperature?” Those were fine.

Then I moved to his emotional comfort. “Would you like a back rub?” “No,” he replied but I could hear the edge softening in his voice.

I moved on to his spiritual comfort. “May I pray?” I asked.  “I guess,” he rasped amid his rapid breathing.  I began to pray. It was an easy prayer to begin as I reflected on the beautiful warm day it had been, filled with sunshine and hope.  I spoke on, pouring out my heart and I could sense Richard relaxing. His breathing slowed down and his arm muscles relaxed. The bottom line of our prayer time was seeking courage, patience and peace.  We slept.

Now two days later, I retold the story to Richard and he had a good laugh over it. He is steadily improving, especially evident by being able to initiate laughter at his own challenge.  Friday, he worked on various brain games to recapture reading.  Late in the afternoon I had to collect the car from the garage after some routine maintenance.  Richard came along for the ride.  We took a meandering ride home covering some of his old school bus route from his childhood – 45 years ago. He told tales of who was related to whom all along the road.  I could see a satisfaction in his eyes as if he were caressing each memory as it surfaced.  We have vowed that on the next sunny sweet day we will drive the rest of the route to complete the catalogue of 45-year-old memories. 

I look back and think of those as turning point moments of regeneration.  Not only are those moments regenerating Richard’s brain circuits, but they are also proving healthy for our marriage.  In a sense we are growing up together.  More down these paths later…