Several years ago, while I was in the kitchen working, the neighbors came pounding on our back door. They were apologetic, telling me one of their dogs had attacked one of our chickens, it was alive, but wounded. Yelling for my husband, we raced outside to see how this could have happened since there was a double fence around the chickens.
Sure enough, all three of our chickens were in good health. We had no idea where the fourth chicken had come from, but it was in dire need of attention, with a gaping hole in its neck. My husband, a respiratory therapist, not a surgeon, commanded me to get quilting thread, needles and scissors while he ran for towels and chairs. He thought we were going to sew the chicken up together-him the doctor, me the nurse. I could not manage it. Ron ended up sewing up the bird by himself. I could barely watch as the chicken cried out silently in pain with each stitch sewn. But, my husband would not relent, this was life or death for the big bird.
And live it did, thanks to my husband. Post surgery it lived in our breezeway, until the place stunk like a chicken coop. One day, Ron loaded up the chicken, cage and all, in the back of his little red pickup, and went hunting for the owner. He did not have to look to far, they just lived down the road. Our neighbors were happy to see their chicken thriving, but quite upset about the attack.
A couple of months ago, my daughter and I were startled by banging on our front door late in the evening. Since we are out in the country, I hesitantly opened the door. It was our neighbor. She told me their dog (a different dog) wounded a baby rabbit. She was wondering if Ron could take a look at it.
Ron, upon returning home the next morning from a 12 hour shift, sped over to look at the baby bunny. He carried the bunny home, set up a comfy place, and began to try to nurse it back to health. In the evening, when Ron called from work, I had to break the news to him, that the bunny did not survive.
The bunny was too young and fragile, its internal wounds could not be fixed. The chicken was a different story. It went on to live out the rest of its life. My message today, we are not fragile little baby bunnies, we are instead like the chicken, we are going to make it and strut our stuff again. The prognosis is good, very good. It may not always be an easy journey with lupus, but there is a good chance it will be a long, full one. Do not lose hope. One of these tomorrows will be better, and then the next and the next after that.
As for the attacker of the chicken, he was eventually removed from the neighborhood. I thank God there are people working tirelessly to remove lupus from the “neighborhood”. When you are being regularly
preyed upon it can’t come a moment too soon, but wait we must, stand strong, and fight the good fight.
For a exceptional post on the prognosis of someone with lupus go here to Lupus, The Adventure Between the Lines.
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Until next time, many blessings….Leslie Rose K
leslie@dominateyourdiagnosis.com
Dominate Your Diagnosis 