Chicken drama

We are in an awkward spot.

Raising chickens in an urban area is challenging.  Raising them from day-old chicks in a small apartment with an open layout is an even greater challenge.  Our babies have been living in a big plastic tub in the laundry room.  This has made washing the laundry particularly difficult.  They have tripled in size since the day we brought them home, and the tub is no longer big enough for all seven.  They've begun pecking at each other's hinder ends, and the "cute" is wearing off as the "stinky" increases.  It's still a bit early to scooch their little butts outside, even with a heat lamp running the coop... perhaps next week we'll try it... but that's only if we have a coop to move them into!

Our Good Neighbor, for whom we are raising four of these chicks, is building a brand new chicken coop to house all eleven birds.  The coop that we built last year for our four ladies will be insufficient for the lot of them.  However, the weather has NOT been cooperating with the plan.  It has been raining nonstop since the beginning of the weekend, and the frame for the new chickie home has been sitting out there unfinished and getting soaked.  We're hoping that the nice weather coming our way will enable us to finish it up and move the girls on out to their new digs. 

Until then, however, we have to find room for a second large plastic tub, somewhere in the apartment that will be safe from the cats (the laundry room, which doubles as our closet, is the only place in the house with a door that closes except for the bathroom... and the bathroom is too small).  I'm fearing that the chickies, if kept in their close quarters for even another few days, will swarm like a colony of bees that has gotten too large for the hive, and we'll find them living like feral cats in the refrigerator or something...  either that, or they'll peck each other's butts so bloody that it'll start to look like a scene from a horror movie in the laundry room.

In the meantime, our seedlings are growing, and leaning into the light on the windowsill... I know exactly how they feel...

As far as the nursing thing goes... it's fine.  I'm taking five patients each day now, and it's getting easier and easier as I adjust to the routine and the paperwork and the personalities.  I'll be switching over to night shift the week after next, and I'm sure it'll take me some time to adjust to that... but I'm feeling hopeful.

Okay, it's time to indulge my obsession with "Firefly" and watch another episode... I'm going to be so sad when we finish the series... why only one season?!  WHY?!

Pain: a subjective experience.

I consider myself to be a compassionate, empathetic person.  I loathe seeing other people in pain, and do what I can to make it better.  This is why I became a nurse.  And I truly believe that pain is a subjective experience, and that it's an important goal in healthcare to assess and treat pain based on the patient's description of it.

However, I'm also a firm believer in the principle of personal responsibility.  And when 30 year old Man-Baby, "a frequent flyer" in our hospital, comes in YET AGAIN with diabetic ketoacidosis and hypertension because he failed to comply with the medication regimen prescribed to him, I can't help but roll my eyes a bit when I see his name on my assignment in the morning.  And when Man-Baby's mother comes in and offers to spread mayo on his sandwich for him, I roll my eyes again and sigh. 

When Man-Baby flirts with me, tells me that I "smell good", laughs and jokes and chitchats on his cell phone........ and then fives minutes later grabs the nursing aide and tells her his pain is 6 out of 10... and when I go back into the room to investigate, demands his Dilaudid... I have a hard time believing it.  I have a nagging suspicion that he simply enjoys passing his time in the hospital in an opioid-induced stupor.  I have to give him the medication anyway, so long as it is prescribed.  He falls asleep soon after.  He is pleased to be sedated and numbed and relieved of responsibility for his own poorly managed health and life. 

Down the hall is a 70-year-old woman with ovarian cancer, mets to the lungs and liver, who has just today decided to pursue hospice care.  She is in pain from the cancer, and receiving morphine.  She lets me know when the pain is creeping up again, and we keep it under control as best we can without oversedating her.  She welcomes our suggestions for non-pharmacological pain management techniques.  She smiles through the pain, and talks to me about passing on her "famous" lasagne recipe to her granddaughter.  This woman is experiencing physical and emotional pain like Man-Baby cannot imagine, and is doing so with such grace and dignity and gratitude that it puts us both to shame. 

I really don't want anyone to have to be in such pain... but sometimes, on days like today, I wish that people like Man-Baby could have a little taste of it.  Just enough to give him some perspective.  It's not just about the physical pain... but to feel yourself at the end of your life.  No more time.  If he could feel what that is like... maybe it would scare him enough to start taking care of himself.  Or perhaps it would encourage him to quit doping up on pain meds, and to actually get his young and relatively healthy butt out of bed to go to the bathroom instead of using the urinal... to become an active participant in his care.


When I see a young life wasting away like that due to negligence and apathy... it really does hurt. 

The start of the growing season.

Happy Spring!

We celebrated the Vernal Equinox with a potluck dinner, party and fire spin jam at our place this past Saturday.  It was wonderful to throw the first real outdoor party of the season, complete with fire pit, homemade wine and a little offering of sweet grass and mead to our newly dug garden plot.  We couldn't have asked for nicer weather... 72 degrees and sunny all weekend long!

Our new raised bed is 13' x 5', and will be about 6-8" deep after the topsoil and compost settle following this first rain.

This little plot is about 2' x 8' and will be home to our greens, herbs and pear tomatoes.  In front we have a dwarf blueberry bush who somehow survived the winter after I forgot about it in the snow, a baby fig tree and a dwarf pomegranate tree (who doubled as our Christmas tree this past year!).

It's been good chicken-cuddling weather.  Popcorn's little feets are free of mud since it's been sunny and the snow is all melted away!

                                        

Our seeds are starting, and I'm nervously waiting to see if our tomato and sweet pepper seeds germinate.  I've honestly never grown such plants from seed (I've always cheated and bought young plants).  But this year we purchased some really neat-o varieties from http://www.seedsavers.org/, and I'm feeling hopeful!!

We planted a small strawberry patch as well, but it started to rain so I didn't get any photos yet.  There's probably about 30 strawberry plants in the bed, and then 6 in each of our two window boxes.  We're planning to grow hops up the front of the building in BIG EarthBoxes... and I'm curious to see how they'll fare in containers.

Now the rains come, and help my little transplanted babies drink deep and build strong roots.  So long as it isn't snow, I'm not going to complain!!  Bring on Spring rains and daffodils!!

New babies and learning to run.

It's that time of year again... time to increase the flock!  And since we don't (can't) have a rooster, we went out to the feed store and picked up 7 new baby chicks.  Three of them will be ours, and four of them will belong to our neighbors (who we have converted to chicken people as well).  We are awaiting the arrival of a Silver Laced Wyandotte pullet who is currently on order, and she will bring our total to a dozen chickens in our suburban backyard.

We have decided to name our girls Lady Jane Grey, Anne (Boleyn), Marie (Antoinette), and Mary (Queen of Scots).  Our sense of humor can be morbid, yes.

One of our Barred Plymouth Rock pullets.

Australorp, Rhode Island Reds, our blue Cochin (Lady Jane Grey), and the butt of another Australorp.

Lady Jane Grey, with her adorable feathery feets!

It feel so good to have the sound of babies peeping away under the brooder light in the laundry room.  Our cats are curious, but have been more interested in the fact that we've had the doors and windows open to the screens this weekend to enjoy the fresh air and 50 degree weather.  Spring is coming, and that excited full feeling is swelling up inside of me as the daylight grows longer and the mornings more mild.

When I was younger and very much into lacrosse, I used to run for a few miles every day.  It was a pleasure and a challenge that I looked forward to... until I picked up smoking (stupid teenager) and started my afterschool job (bye bye lacrosse!).  As I got older, I found running painful, especially in my ankles, knees and hips (I also got avulsion fractures in my right ankle three times within two years)... and though I longed for that feeling of hitting the trails and pushing full speed through the brush, I avoided it for fear of injury.  I still dream about running and the feeling of absolute power and freedom it inspired in me.

Since reading "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall, I've been trying to alter my gait to allow for safe and effective barefoot (or nearly so) running.  Yesterday, I found running more enjoyable than ever before, especially on the rocky trails of the beautiful woodlands near our home.  I was grinning as I sped downhill, and huff-puffed uphill so very slowly, and tried to think "easy, light, fast" and run to a 180bpm rhythm.  It felt amazing... and I felt like a mad wolfwoman, soaked in mud and snow up to my knees, tearing off layers of clothing until I was down to a tank top and feeling the wind and the sun on my shoulders.  I ran when I wanted to, and slowed to a walk when I felt I had to, and before I knew it we'd been out there for 2.5 hours.  Extraordinary.

However, running in shoes with thin, flexible soles and very little traction can be hazardous on the snowy, north-facing side of the hills.  I lost my balance and pulled my back pretty darn good as I tried to keep from tumbling down one of them.  I kept running, and didn't really feel it until I tried to get up out of bed this morning.  Yikes.  Hoopdaddy took the reigns and went to teach our weekly hoopdance class at the gym, and thank goodness for that.  I've been stretching it out and I'm hoping to get back out on the trails this afternoon while the sunshine lasts... but it's amazing how one's body can simply say, "nope, not doing that right now" of its own accord.