Let's step through the life of someone who is one of the (approx) 60 volunteers on the Brigade to the NPH Ranch and One World Surgery Center in Honduras:
You will awaken in your assigned room, at the conference center, where everyone stays during the duration of this mission trip. Your room is one of many, similar to the set-up of a one-story hotel with all the room doors facing inward, towards the courtyard. The courtyard is filled with various seating options and plenty of hammocks (which you will enjoy later after your work is completed). In your room are 4 twin beds (some with 5 beds) with your assigned roommates, which are of the same gender as you. If you came with a spouse, you most likely will stay in separate rooms, unless you 1) got lucky to get a room of your own, or 2) vocalized the need to room only with your spouse whereby "special" arrangements would need to be made. There's only so many rooms in which to split everyone up in, and they do the very best they can to accommodate everyone. In your room, there is also a shower and bathroom facilities. Don't drink the water, or open your mouth in the shower, or brush your teeth with the tap water. Don't flush toilette paper down the toilette, as you are to put the TP in the trash next to the toilette. They will kindly lend you gloves to dig for the TP if you do decide to flush it down. Just FYI. Then, you realize what a habit it is that you do this, and you'll mess up several times and toss the TP in......and reach down to grab it. Yep, you'll do that a time or two.
So as you get up, some of your roommates will continue to sleep as everyone goes to their "jobs" at different times each day. Some are early, and some are later depending on what you will be doing that day. Clinical volunteers walk to the Surgery Center, while the General volunteers do a myriad of things at various places on the Ranch. As you are getting ready in your room for the day, you might not have slept well because of a snoring roommate. That will be your destiny every night. You try to make your bed, in the dark, so as to not have your roommates judge you on your cleanliness. You were given sheets and a pillow (and one towel), but the blanket on your bed is the one you brought with you from home. You appreciate the luxury of having a bathroom/shower in your room, and it's a nice one. Tile, clean, pretty and right at your fingertips. Your in Honduras, and the accommodations are fantastic.
Now your ready for your day, and head out through the courtyard to the volunteer's designated kitchen area. It is filled with fruit, snacks and plenty of fresh drinking water that never will run out, the whole time your there. What will run out is the electricity. But that's life in Honduras, it happens several times every day. Off and on. Off and on. No biggie, as there are generators in designated areas - esp the Surgery Center - so your told to "Count to 5" and the generator will kick in and wall-laaa, the electricity is back on again. You get used to this quite quickly. You grab a cup of coffee in the cup you brought with you (along with your plate and own silverware to use at every meal) and there's dry creamer and sugar right there for you as well. There are extra cups, plates, bowls, etc in this kitchen just in case you don't have yours with you. And as always, you are to wash every dish you use after you use it. Peer pressure makes sure you do. You can eat now, or head out to your designated work place for the morning/day. Another luxury is that breakfast is cooked (by some of the volunteers and paid workers who supervise you) and is usually ready around 9 am (Honduran-Time) just in case you prefer to eat a little later. This breakfast is also taken to the surgery center for those to eat, when they get a break. You walk to your designated job, and so-you-know you walk everywhere (which is wonderful because Honduras is SO beautiful!), and you have your flashlight with you in the dark, early morning hours. There's security all over on the Ranch, with guards with guns on their hips. They are there so you can be there safely. They most likely do not speak english, but they do smile at you, knowing what you are there for. You know not to be out after dark, you've been told this. But, the guards know you will be out and about in the early mornings heading to your appropriate place.
You arrive at your appointed job for the day. It's the reason you are here - and you love helping, doing, working, listening, and just being there. You are a Pre-Op Nurse, a OR Nurse, a Scrub Tech, a Sterile Processor, a translator, a farm hand, a cook, the cleanup crew, a tortilla maker, a trash person, gardner, compost specialist, and anything and everything. You do what needs to be done, and enjoy doing so. Matter of fact, you relish in the privilege of being there to assist the Honduran people. They are so very grateful, patient, kind and gracious. Most have beautiful dark skin and brown eyes that look at you with certainty - and uncertainty. They know you are there to help them, but it's not always easy for them to trust you. The translators are the gateway to the success of it all. You can try to help all day, but communication is key, esp when your in the healthcare aspect of it. So you "thank" the translator each and every time they assist you, because in order to give first class health care to the Honduran people, you must be able to talk to them. You quickly realize that many do not understand health care, what their birth year really is, why it matters, or have the ability to sign their name. Okay, a fingerprint will do on a Surgery Consent Form. And you realize that EVERYONE states they have no allergies to drugs. NKDA (No Known Drug Allergy) in the healthcare world. What?! That's because they likely don't have access to medication and health care, therefore they have no idea if they have any medication allergies. You find these discoveries fascinating.
Lunch is normally around 1pm, and that's a estimation. You have lunch whenever you can get it. It's available at the conference center and at the surgery center, depending on your duties on any given day. Your glad to have it. And once again, it's made by the volunteers, with staff members directing the flow of it. You chop an onion, in the same time they chop 5. You slice a loaf of bread, they slice 7 during that same time. They don't mess around. Your instructed to slice each loaf into 35 slices. They are mindful of their food allotments, and what any given food item can render. And did I mention, they are fast at preparing it. You are left in their dust, as they scamper around like kitchen fairies making everything look easy.
You work at your appointed job anywhere from 8 - 12 hours each day. You never think about the "getting paid" part. You are working because you want to, and it has absolutely nothing to do with any monetary benefit. You feel the benefit inside you, and it feeds your soul. Your connection to these people fills up every bucket inside you. Some of the people you are helping you just want to put in your pocket and take back home. They are all special people with strong spirits who just want to live a whole-hearted life. Unfortunately, that's a hard thing to do in this country. Yet, you know you are doing the best you can to contribute a small piece of their puzzle towards improving their life. However small or large it might be.
After each work day is completed, it's time to walk back to the conference center. There, you may take a little personal time to call your family, go for a walk/run, go see the children in the nearby homes and say Hello, play soccer with them, or shower and get ready for dinner. You, and all the other volunteers, are leading their own journey this week. We are all together, yet separate in our thoughts and desires. Our experiences will be different as we walk the same walk together this week. Every one around you is helping in their own way.
Dinner is served at 7 pm each night in the dining area at the conference center. It is cooked by volunteers as well as paid staff. Before dinner is served, you listen to announcements and shout-outs (praise for your fellow volunteers) and visit with the people around you about their day. You are hungry, and usually have no idea what will be served for dinner unless you were part of the cooking duties that day. Not to worry, as your backup is always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which is available 24/7. Dinner is served buffet style, kind of like going to Luby's cafeteria. You go down the line, and volunteers have volunteered to serve food. It just happens, like being at a family function. People just do things automatically. People are innately good and kind. And clean. This is a good thing when you are at a place with 60 people you most likely do not know.
After dinner, there is always a presentation. This usually consist of someone on the Ranch telling their story. Dr Merlin (Physician/Surgeon and Medical Director of the Surgery Center) told of his growing up as a child on the Ranch, having the privilege of an education, and becoming a Dr himself. He then decided to come back to the Ranch to work and help the children and people there. There are many stories like his. Those of struggle and success. Those who were brave when they were afraid, and stayed strong through their struggles. He's an excellant example of what you can do and be in Honduras. And his sense of humor is unlike others. He's just plain funny! He's one of your favorite people there. Night after night you listen to these stories. You are touched every time.
After the dinner and presentation, you go back to you designated room. Your tired, but it's a good tired. You've been busy all day. And you'll do it again tomorrow, happily. Who will you help tomorrow, you wonder? What will the day hold? Your still adjusting to the people around you, the culture, the dos and don'ts, and the person in the bed next to yours. The wifi is weak, but the coffee is strong. You stay focused on the good things around you.......and look forward to helping more people tomorrow. You lay down on a pillow that your most grateful for. You lay heavy in the bed from your day, all while reflecting on the events. Then sleep finds you, to rejuvenate you so you can rejuvenate others.
Here's to another day,
Cyndi
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Monday, February 26, 2018
A retrospective view
Interesting, this thing called life. As we live it, it seems different than when we reflect back on it. I had begun my blog while on a medical mission to Honduras. I was on Day 2 when I last wrote. Then, everything changed. I was not able to fit in the time needed to blog, my email crashed while there, and my basic communications became difficult. I knew that documenting the day-to-day happenings was not going to be a pliable option while in Honduras, and I patiently waited to get back to the US. This delay was valuable to assist me in understanding what had actually occurred while on this medical mission.
I'll start with Monday - Friday. Each day, I awoke to coffee that was already made (for all the volunteers) by David. He would place my cup under the machine in a ready position for me to easily pour it, nearby he placed a plate, fork/knife with the peanut butter. This coffee machine was quite large, as what began as a nice gesture for me to have coffee early in the morning, soon became a way of life for the volunteers as well. The volunteers had been told we all would be responsible for the making of the coffee, and David, unknowingly, took that on. He would set his alarm at a unusually early time (like 3 am) to get up and make sure all the early birds heading to the surgery center (to work) had coffee. Everyone loved it, and not many people knew it was him that had made it. It was just "made" already. David laid low, and just kept his ritual to himself.
Each day, I was to be one of the OR Circulating Nurses at One World Surgery Center. We learned at Orientation on Sunday that there would be 3 OR's running each day. And that's just what I did each day, the same work that I do on any other given day in the US. This time, it is for the Honduran people. The "general" volunteers would sign up each evening, on a sign-up sheet after dinner, to pick a duty that suited them. There were things like making tortillas (hand-made, mind you), cooking breakfast or lunch for everyone, cleaning up the kitchen, taking the trash out at the surgery center (which had two parts to it, 1) take it from inside to outside, or 2) take it from outside straight up a steep incline to the place where they burn their trash), caring/visiting the children, working on the farm or in the garden, working in the surgery center either keeping the break room clean, cleaning the OR's between cases, sterile processing work, observing OR cases, and many other duties. The list is too long to give, but you get the idea. Those workers who were clinical had their assignments at the surgery center and were there until the day was done (in their department) and/or all cases were completed. Typically I would be there at least 10 hours in the OR, but on several occasions I was there longer. This is what we were there for, and it made sense to work all we could while we were there. What did David do, you ask? His Theme was: I'll do whatever nobody wants to do. And he did. He would wait til everyone else signed up, then tell Maria he'd do what is needed or left. He mostly ended up cooking breakfast and cleaning up each morning, then working on the farm (shoveling poop, as they are big on composting), or trash duty at the surgery center. There was one day he observed in the OR - which he rather enjoyed. It was a lot of physical work for everyone.
The best part was what we came for: to help the Honduran people. We had surgery cases scheduled each day intended to improve the life of the individual. Let's say that a man had a torn rotator cuff in his shoulder, and now he can't work - or a knee injury or a hernia or or or or. These are surgeries that are performed and can get them back to work, as well as feeling better and having a higher quality of life in general. These are people without access to health care in general due to many factors like financial assistance or location. One World Surgery Center provides the surgery free of charge. Although, there are many people (who have surgery) who ask what they can do in return. There are many options for them, if they desire, and many of them want to give back. So they can come back and perform work around the Ranch or some other barter option, if they so desire. This is not forced or encouraged, and is only if a patient wishes to do so in the future. This is important to note that the Honduran culture is giving and kind. Yes, the violence and crime is out of control, BUT the "regular" people are gracious and grateful. As I type this, I see their faces. They are quiet in the environment of a language they do not know. Even though we have many translators available to assist, they are surrounded by volunteers, mostly from the US. The Honduran people sit quietly, and wait patiently. They do not complain. At all. They are unsure of what is about to happen, what the process is, and how things will be after their surgery. They receive little if any healthcare in their life, so this is a big shock to them. They are scared, and are surrounded by a culture of people they do not know. They use their fingerprint, instead of a signature because they can't read or write. Yet, they trust us. They trust us to take care of them and help them get better. It's a big responsibility and we do not take it lightly. We all step up to the plate to use our individual skills and as a team, come together to help those who so desperately need it. Everything else aside, all other agendas people bring with them, the mission is to help the Honduran people. And that we did. Each one of them have a story, they have a life, they have goals and dreams. They are just like us, except they live in a world of poverty, crime and violence. I'm going to stop here a minute and say something to that broad statement I just wrote. There are parts of Honduras that are "safer", or more "normal", or more like a city in the US. But for the most part, there's danger lurking. A armed security officer outside a surgery center is mandatory in Honduras. So, it's just apples and oranges when it comes to explaining how things are in that part of the country.
Geographically, we flew into Tegucigalpa, Honduras, which is the capital city. It was about an hour or so bus ride to NPH Ranch. **Note: You can Google NPH Ranch or One World Surgery Center and there's information out there about both. They are on the same site physically, but surprisingly, only minimally connected ** On the bus ride there, we saw many things. A guy on a motorcycle, with a women on the back hanging onto him with one hand, and carrying/holding her baby with the other hand. Don't even ask about a helmet. (And people give me a hard time when I let my dog ride with me on mine). We saw the horses, donkeys and dogs (on the side of the road) with their ribs protruding. We saw what it looks like to live in a house made of packing crates, and people (kids) carrying things along the side of the road that would make no sense to us - but perfect sense to them. It's basically an indescribable thing. It's a movie that now plays in my head regularly. It's a puzzle I'm trying to put together with no pieces that fit. Hence, why I cannot still make it all "fit" inside my head, which has lead me to the inability to blog like I normally would. There's so much to write - yet so much that I cannot put together words that do it justice. It just all seems like chaotic noise without a melody as I write it. I've given in to the notion that it's all going to be willy-nilly on my blog. I have so much to tell.....but I'm struggling to express it, because I can't settle it all in my mind. So, I'll keep throwing words and things together so that you can try and piece together the parts of this puzzle as we go along. My experience in Honduras is more conducive for a book, rather than a blog.
My future blogs will be about: 1) the volunteers and their activities, 2) special and certain activities that occurred while we were there, 3) the drama of being with a group of 60 people all with a similar mission, and 3) the Children's Home set-up, 4) David, and much more. This is my start, and I needed to throw a starting point out there. As I so appropriately titled it, the reflection is still happening in my head. The looking back, the reevaluation of what I thought happened and what actually happened. I think this is what happens when "set" expectations are met with real life. Curve ball, my friend.
There's two things I know for sure:
1) I used to always think I was grateful. For my family/friends, my life, my well-being, my job, pretty much everything. Now, it's like I've moved to a new level of gratitude that I didn't know existed. Kind of like a butterfly unicorn......something you didn't know existed, but does. My new level of gratitude is beyond words. It's a new feeling, a heightened sense of knowing something I never knew before. Hearing about something - and then seeing it - can translate into two completely different things, hence the life people lead in Honduras (and many parts of the world) became new and different when I saw it first hand, sitting in front of me, holding my hand for comfort, feeling their struggle, and seeing it in their eyes. My smile came naturally to them, my touch on their hand and not wanting to let go, and the privilege God granted me to be there, and tossed me into a place I've never been. Literally and emotionally. I thought I was grateful in life, but my new level of gratitude has me wondering.....is there more I'm missing? And I'm sure now that the answer is Yes.
2) Another take-away for me was that each person who came on this mission had their own unique and special experience. Everyone looked at it through their own eyes, had feelings only they will know, and walked away from this with their own evaluation. We each had our own special experience. No story will be the same. We may have similarities in what we experienced, but the overall take-away for each of us is idiosyncratic and distinct. Fascinating considering we all went with the same goal. Or at least most people there had the same goal. DunDunDunnnnn.
As I sigh a big sigh of relief, I've now been able to start my blogging process for this trip. I'm ready to open the vault and let the therapy, I mean words, come out. It is very cathartic, no doubt. The chatter in my mind is busy busy, and I'll take them and put them into words over the next few days. And we'll take this journey together.
Did I mention how beautiful, mountainous and breathtaking Honduras is? Your gorgeous, Honduras, you really are.
Much love,
C
I'll start with Monday - Friday. Each day, I awoke to coffee that was already made (for all the volunteers) by David. He would place my cup under the machine in a ready position for me to easily pour it, nearby he placed a plate, fork/knife with the peanut butter. This coffee machine was quite large, as what began as a nice gesture for me to have coffee early in the morning, soon became a way of life for the volunteers as well. The volunteers had been told we all would be responsible for the making of the coffee, and David, unknowingly, took that on. He would set his alarm at a unusually early time (like 3 am) to get up and make sure all the early birds heading to the surgery center (to work) had coffee. Everyone loved it, and not many people knew it was him that had made it. It was just "made" already. David laid low, and just kept his ritual to himself.
Each day, I was to be one of the OR Circulating Nurses at One World Surgery Center. We learned at Orientation on Sunday that there would be 3 OR's running each day. And that's just what I did each day, the same work that I do on any other given day in the US. This time, it is for the Honduran people. The "general" volunteers would sign up each evening, on a sign-up sheet after dinner, to pick a duty that suited them. There were things like making tortillas (hand-made, mind you), cooking breakfast or lunch for everyone, cleaning up the kitchen, taking the trash out at the surgery center (which had two parts to it, 1) take it from inside to outside, or 2) take it from outside straight up a steep incline to the place where they burn their trash), caring/visiting the children, working on the farm or in the garden, working in the surgery center either keeping the break room clean, cleaning the OR's between cases, sterile processing work, observing OR cases, and many other duties. The list is too long to give, but you get the idea. Those workers who were clinical had their assignments at the surgery center and were there until the day was done (in their department) and/or all cases were completed. Typically I would be there at least 10 hours in the OR, but on several occasions I was there longer. This is what we were there for, and it made sense to work all we could while we were there. What did David do, you ask? His Theme was: I'll do whatever nobody wants to do. And he did. He would wait til everyone else signed up, then tell Maria he'd do what is needed or left. He mostly ended up cooking breakfast and cleaning up each morning, then working on the farm (shoveling poop, as they are big on composting), or trash duty at the surgery center. There was one day he observed in the OR - which he rather enjoyed. It was a lot of physical work for everyone.
The best part was what we came for: to help the Honduran people. We had surgery cases scheduled each day intended to improve the life of the individual. Let's say that a man had a torn rotator cuff in his shoulder, and now he can't work - or a knee injury or a hernia or or or or. These are surgeries that are performed and can get them back to work, as well as feeling better and having a higher quality of life in general. These are people without access to health care in general due to many factors like financial assistance or location. One World Surgery Center provides the surgery free of charge. Although, there are many people (who have surgery) who ask what they can do in return. There are many options for them, if they desire, and many of them want to give back. So they can come back and perform work around the Ranch or some other barter option, if they so desire. This is not forced or encouraged, and is only if a patient wishes to do so in the future. This is important to note that the Honduran culture is giving and kind. Yes, the violence and crime is out of control, BUT the "regular" people are gracious and grateful. As I type this, I see their faces. They are quiet in the environment of a language they do not know. Even though we have many translators available to assist, they are surrounded by volunteers, mostly from the US. The Honduran people sit quietly, and wait patiently. They do not complain. At all. They are unsure of what is about to happen, what the process is, and how things will be after their surgery. They receive little if any healthcare in their life, so this is a big shock to them. They are scared, and are surrounded by a culture of people they do not know. They use their fingerprint, instead of a signature because they can't read or write. Yet, they trust us. They trust us to take care of them and help them get better. It's a big responsibility and we do not take it lightly. We all step up to the plate to use our individual skills and as a team, come together to help those who so desperately need it. Everything else aside, all other agendas people bring with them, the mission is to help the Honduran people. And that we did. Each one of them have a story, they have a life, they have goals and dreams. They are just like us, except they live in a world of poverty, crime and violence. I'm going to stop here a minute and say something to that broad statement I just wrote. There are parts of Honduras that are "safer", or more "normal", or more like a city in the US. But for the most part, there's danger lurking. A armed security officer outside a surgery center is mandatory in Honduras. So, it's just apples and oranges when it comes to explaining how things are in that part of the country.
Geographically, we flew into Tegucigalpa, Honduras, which is the capital city. It was about an hour or so bus ride to NPH Ranch. **Note: You can Google NPH Ranch or One World Surgery Center and there's information out there about both. They are on the same site physically, but surprisingly, only minimally connected ** On the bus ride there, we saw many things. A guy on a motorcycle, with a women on the back hanging onto him with one hand, and carrying/holding her baby with the other hand. Don't even ask about a helmet. (And people give me a hard time when I let my dog ride with me on mine). We saw the horses, donkeys and dogs (on the side of the road) with their ribs protruding. We saw what it looks like to live in a house made of packing crates, and people (kids) carrying things along the side of the road that would make no sense to us - but perfect sense to them. It's basically an indescribable thing. It's a movie that now plays in my head regularly. It's a puzzle I'm trying to put together with no pieces that fit. Hence, why I cannot still make it all "fit" inside my head, which has lead me to the inability to blog like I normally would. There's so much to write - yet so much that I cannot put together words that do it justice. It just all seems like chaotic noise without a melody as I write it. I've given in to the notion that it's all going to be willy-nilly on my blog. I have so much to tell.....but I'm struggling to express it, because I can't settle it all in my mind. So, I'll keep throwing words and things together so that you can try and piece together the parts of this puzzle as we go along. My experience in Honduras is more conducive for a book, rather than a blog.
My future blogs will be about: 1) the volunteers and their activities, 2) special and certain activities that occurred while we were there, 3) the drama of being with a group of 60 people all with a similar mission, and 3) the Children's Home set-up, 4) David, and much more. This is my start, and I needed to throw a starting point out there. As I so appropriately titled it, the reflection is still happening in my head. The looking back, the reevaluation of what I thought happened and what actually happened. I think this is what happens when "set" expectations are met with real life. Curve ball, my friend.
There's two things I know for sure:
1) I used to always think I was grateful. For my family/friends, my life, my well-being, my job, pretty much everything. Now, it's like I've moved to a new level of gratitude that I didn't know existed. Kind of like a butterfly unicorn......something you didn't know existed, but does. My new level of gratitude is beyond words. It's a new feeling, a heightened sense of knowing something I never knew before. Hearing about something - and then seeing it - can translate into two completely different things, hence the life people lead in Honduras (and many parts of the world) became new and different when I saw it first hand, sitting in front of me, holding my hand for comfort, feeling their struggle, and seeing it in their eyes. My smile came naturally to them, my touch on their hand and not wanting to let go, and the privilege God granted me to be there, and tossed me into a place I've never been. Literally and emotionally. I thought I was grateful in life, but my new level of gratitude has me wondering.....is there more I'm missing? And I'm sure now that the answer is Yes.
2) Another take-away for me was that each person who came on this mission had their own unique and special experience. Everyone looked at it through their own eyes, had feelings only they will know, and walked away from this with their own evaluation. We each had our own special experience. No story will be the same. We may have similarities in what we experienced, but the overall take-away for each of us is idiosyncratic and distinct. Fascinating considering we all went with the same goal. Or at least most people there had the same goal. DunDunDunnnnn.
As I sigh a big sigh of relief, I've now been able to start my blogging process for this trip. I'm ready to open the vault and let the therapy, I mean words, come out. It is very cathartic, no doubt. The chatter in my mind is busy busy, and I'll take them and put them into words over the next few days. And we'll take this journey together.
Did I mention how beautiful, mountainous and breathtaking Honduras is? Your gorgeous, Honduras, you really are.
Much love,
C
Sunday, February 18, 2018
I stand corrected
Many things are becoming clearer as Day 2 in Honduras ensues.
First, I’ll rewind back to Day 1. We had an interesting (school) bus ride from the capital city to the NPR Ranch. NPR = Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos = My little brothers and sisters. The bus ride took us through Life In Honduras: poverty, mountains, warm climate, narrow roads, beautiful countryside, and people struggling with violence and lack of food on a daily basis. Living conditions are simply indescribable, and pictures cannot express the devastation. Bright Side? We, along with many other people, have come to assist some of these people in need.
After arriving at The Ranch, we settled into our designated rooms. The assignments were such that I’m in a all-girls room, and David is in a all-boys room. We are next door to each other, with anywhere from 4 to 5 twin beds per room. The facility we are staying in is somewhat new, and very nice. Each room has a bathroom and shower. Note: In Honduras, no matter where you are, you do not flush toilet paper down the toilet. The saying goes that “only what comes out of your body goes in the toilet.”
After we settled in and unpacked a bit, dinner was served. Fish, rice, vegetables, potatoes and homemade cake for dessert. The dining room is in the same building as the sleeping quarters, and everything is amazingly organized and nice. This Medical Mission has convenient and high quality facilities. I don’t think I expected that, although I don’t really know what I expected. Granted, there are many things that are dated: they still burn their trash, you can’t drink the water, you can’t brush your teeth with the water, and the electricity goes off often.
After dinner on Day 1, we all stood up and introduced ourselves, a presentation was given regarding the brigade - and its history. Then, it was off to our rooms for bed. Lights out wasn’t at 8 pm after all, it was at 9:30 pm. I think everyone was tired from the long trip here, with many people from Chicago, Minnesota and Connecticut. There is a big group of folks from the Austin area, too. It seemed like so many names to remember!
Fast forward to Day 2.
Of course, I woke up early. As I walked out of my room, I noticed no one was up. Then, surprise! David walked out of his room, along with Nick, another volunteer from the surgery center I work at. They both had “been awake” for some time, as one of their roommates was snoring like a freight train. They were surprised I could not hear it next door. I couldn’t hear it because one of my own roommates was snoring! It’s going to be a long week of figuring out how to get some sleep. David and Nick said they will be sleeping in a hammock outside tonight......and I think they are serious.
I digress. The three of us walked across the atrium to the dining area. One thing I forgot to mention was the peanut butter and bananas they provide, along with other fruit and snacks . So I had my usual banana and peanut butter, along with some coffee that David made for the whole group (in a huge mamma jamma coffee maker). After I ate, I knew that if I was to fit a run in, that now was the time, as the day was scheduled with other activities. So off I went! Running and exploring. I stayed on the “road” and mostly did laps of the area I knew. Yet, I still looked around as I ran. I could hear the unusual and new bird calls, the unfamiliar smells, and ever-present oddness of actually being in this country. What a privilege it is. We are safe on this compound with one exception.....do not be outside of our facility area when it’s dark. The security guards shoot, no questions asked, they will shoot a moving body in the dark. Everyone knows not to be out in the dark, it’s just a way of life here on this ranch. If you are, you had better let security know beforehand. The “violence” outside of this compound sometimes tries to get in. But they don’t stand a chance, as this place is heavily protected. They don’t mess around.
I happily finished my run, and came back to my room to shower. Sometimes you have hot water, sometimes you don’t. I got lucky, and had a warm shower. So far, it’s certainly my lucky day. Now, I just have to keep reminding myself not to open my mouth when I shower, as that’s another no-no. I use my towel I brought, to dry off. The ranch does give you one towel for the week, and encourages everyone to bring one of their own from home, as well.
After that, I met back up with David (and the grou) and we began our day. First things first, we take a organized walking tour of the ranch. OMGoodness. There’s so much back in here, down this tiny road. Buildings and more buildings of dorm-like structures that house children, and there’s a school, a “elderly “ home, other volunteer/visitor housing, staff housing, chapel’s, gardens, crops growing in the fields, and a farm (yes, a farm!). I wanted to stay there for the week. Cows, pigs, chickens......and I was instantly home-sick. Despite my internal resistance, we went on, and continued by buildings whereby trades are taught to the older children such as electricity skills, cosmetology, mechanics, sewing shop and others. They are educating these children (250 onsite right now), and as they approach 9th grade, they offer them training in these different trades. Simply amazing. They also counsel them in life skills of what healthy relationships would include, such as mutual respect, self-respect, communication skills among other mentally-healthy topics these children need, and are missing in life without their parents there to teach them. Speaking of children, after our tour, we went to a communal meeting spot to visit and play with some of the children. I can only sum this up with this: even though there’s a language barrier, verbal cues are enough to realize what they want to do (play, sit in your lap, etc). Another clarification I’d like to make is that this facility prefers it to be called a Children’s Home, and not a Orphanage. Many of the children are not orphans, as they have families, it’s just that they are unable to care for them due to the extreme poverty and conditions.
Now it’s lunch time for everyone and we all go back to our designated places to eat. And most importantly, it’s time to go to the surgery center for orientation after lunch. That in itself will have to be continued in my next blog post. This is really what we came for, to provide free surgeries to those that need it most. What I soon realized is that it’s surgery for (external/outside the ranch) Hondurans, and primarily adults, who do not have the means to have their ACL/knee fixed, or a hernia repaired, or a fracture properly taken care of, so that they can work and live their life. There are so many things that are becoming clear as I learn what’s happening........and about to happen. And it’s not anything like how we do it in the US.
More to come,
Cyndi
First, I’ll rewind back to Day 1. We had an interesting (school) bus ride from the capital city to the NPR Ranch. NPR = Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos = My little brothers and sisters. The bus ride took us through Life In Honduras: poverty, mountains, warm climate, narrow roads, beautiful countryside, and people struggling with violence and lack of food on a daily basis. Living conditions are simply indescribable, and pictures cannot express the devastation. Bright Side? We, along with many other people, have come to assist some of these people in need.
After arriving at The Ranch, we settled into our designated rooms. The assignments were such that I’m in a all-girls room, and David is in a all-boys room. We are next door to each other, with anywhere from 4 to 5 twin beds per room. The facility we are staying in is somewhat new, and very nice. Each room has a bathroom and shower. Note: In Honduras, no matter where you are, you do not flush toilet paper down the toilet. The saying goes that “only what comes out of your body goes in the toilet.”
After we settled in and unpacked a bit, dinner was served. Fish, rice, vegetables, potatoes and homemade cake for dessert. The dining room is in the same building as the sleeping quarters, and everything is amazingly organized and nice. This Medical Mission has convenient and high quality facilities. I don’t think I expected that, although I don’t really know what I expected. Granted, there are many things that are dated: they still burn their trash, you can’t drink the water, you can’t brush your teeth with the water, and the electricity goes off often.
After dinner on Day 1, we all stood up and introduced ourselves, a presentation was given regarding the brigade - and its history. Then, it was off to our rooms for bed. Lights out wasn’t at 8 pm after all, it was at 9:30 pm. I think everyone was tired from the long trip here, with many people from Chicago, Minnesota and Connecticut. There is a big group of folks from the Austin area, too. It seemed like so many names to remember!
Fast forward to Day 2.
Of course, I woke up early. As I walked out of my room, I noticed no one was up. Then, surprise! David walked out of his room, along with Nick, another volunteer from the surgery center I work at. They both had “been awake” for some time, as one of their roommates was snoring like a freight train. They were surprised I could not hear it next door. I couldn’t hear it because one of my own roommates was snoring! It’s going to be a long week of figuring out how to get some sleep. David and Nick said they will be sleeping in a hammock outside tonight......and I think they are serious.
I digress. The three of us walked across the atrium to the dining area. One thing I forgot to mention was the peanut butter and bananas they provide, along with other fruit and snacks . So I had my usual banana and peanut butter, along with some coffee that David made for the whole group (in a huge mamma jamma coffee maker). After I ate, I knew that if I was to fit a run in, that now was the time, as the day was scheduled with other activities. So off I went! Running and exploring. I stayed on the “road” and mostly did laps of the area I knew. Yet, I still looked around as I ran. I could hear the unusual and new bird calls, the unfamiliar smells, and ever-present oddness of actually being in this country. What a privilege it is. We are safe on this compound with one exception.....do not be outside of our facility area when it’s dark. The security guards shoot, no questions asked, they will shoot a moving body in the dark. Everyone knows not to be out in the dark, it’s just a way of life here on this ranch. If you are, you had better let security know beforehand. The “violence” outside of this compound sometimes tries to get in. But they don’t stand a chance, as this place is heavily protected. They don’t mess around.
I happily finished my run, and came back to my room to shower. Sometimes you have hot water, sometimes you don’t. I got lucky, and had a warm shower. So far, it’s certainly my lucky day. Now, I just have to keep reminding myself not to open my mouth when I shower, as that’s another no-no. I use my towel I brought, to dry off. The ranch does give you one towel for the week, and encourages everyone to bring one of their own from home, as well.
After that, I met back up with David (and the grou) and we began our day. First things first, we take a organized walking tour of the ranch. OMGoodness. There’s so much back in here, down this tiny road. Buildings and more buildings of dorm-like structures that house children, and there’s a school, a “elderly “ home, other volunteer/visitor housing, staff housing, chapel’s, gardens, crops growing in the fields, and a farm (yes, a farm!). I wanted to stay there for the week. Cows, pigs, chickens......and I was instantly home-sick. Despite my internal resistance, we went on, and continued by buildings whereby trades are taught to the older children such as electricity skills, cosmetology, mechanics, sewing shop and others. They are educating these children (250 onsite right now), and as they approach 9th grade, they offer them training in these different trades. Simply amazing. They also counsel them in life skills of what healthy relationships would include, such as mutual respect, self-respect, communication skills among other mentally-healthy topics these children need, and are missing in life without their parents there to teach them. Speaking of children, after our tour, we went to a communal meeting spot to visit and play with some of the children. I can only sum this up with this: even though there’s a language barrier, verbal cues are enough to realize what they want to do (play, sit in your lap, etc). Another clarification I’d like to make is that this facility prefers it to be called a Children’s Home, and not a Orphanage. Many of the children are not orphans, as they have families, it’s just that they are unable to care for them due to the extreme poverty and conditions.
Now it’s lunch time for everyone and we all go back to our designated places to eat. And most importantly, it’s time to go to the surgery center for orientation after lunch. That in itself will have to be continued in my next blog post. This is really what we came for, to provide free surgeries to those that need it most. What I soon realized is that it’s surgery for (external/outside the ranch) Hondurans, and primarily adults, who do not have the means to have their ACL/knee fixed, or a hernia repaired, or a fracture properly taken care of, so that they can work and live their life. There are so many things that are becoming clear as I learn what’s happening........and about to happen. And it’s not anything like how we do it in the US.
More to come,
Cyndi
Saturday, February 17, 2018
And so it begins
It’s Go Time. February 17 arrived, and the journey for our Medical Mission trip to Honduras began.
David and I are both going, and will serve as stewards to the needs of One World Surgery Center in Tegucigalpa. We will fly there today, and return the following Saturday night.
For now, we are packed and making our way there. 2 flights, the first to Miami. We packed what we were told to bring, plus many other things we thought we might need, plus many things we don’t need but don’t know it yet. It’s a big “unknown”. What will be important, and what won’t? We’ll find out soon enough.
The temperature in Honduras will range from 80 during the day to 60 at night. Nice, huh?! So it seems. I brought shorts, which means I had to shave my legs, and will do so for the sake of my vanity. That in itself may be the least of my worries.
We were told to bring our own eating utensils, bug spray, light blanket, and rain jacket, plus an assortment of other items. A flashlight, as the electricity shuts off at 8 pm every night. And snacks and packaged food “if your a picky eater”. They said to bring an (empty) water bottle, and fill it up only out of specific designated sources. Do not drink water out of the facet, or brush your teeth with it either, we were told. Or you’ll be sorry.
I was told I will be a designated Circulating Operating Room RN for the week. I don’t know what service I will be working with (ENT, Urology, General, Gynecology, or whatever services they will offer this week), but I will make it happen. That’s what OR nurses do.
David is classified as a General Volunteer, which means he may be cooking, doing yard work, helping the children in the neighboring Orphanage, as well as assisting in the Surgery Center (turning over rooms between cases, etc). We were told his duties may be different each day. It takes many General Volunteers to keep this Mission going! It’s open to the public, so if you happen to be reading this, you can go sometime, too. They have many brigades each year. Clinical volunteers are great, but General volunteers are needed to assist in a plethora of areas.
You may have heard the Department of State has issued warnings about traveling to Honduras. No need to worry, we are told. The One World Surgery Center (along with an Children’s Orphanage and Elderly Orphanage) is located on a well-fenced and 24/7 guarded “Ranch”, about a hour bus-ride away from the Airport. I suspect the bus-ride there is not on a highway? I don’t really know. Could be a bumpy ride, later today.
How did I come across this opportunity? I work for Stonebridge Surgery Center which happens to be partially owned by SCA (Surgical Care Associates), who is a huge sponsor for this Mission. This Medical Mission is open to SCA employees and their families, but (most) many of the brigades are open to the general public, as well. They just need help there, to help others less fortunate. If I’m correct, there may be up to 60 people participating/volunteering this week. Doctors, nurses, and people from all walks of life with a single mission and goal.
So as we make our way there, we left behind our farm in good hands. Between our daughter, Lauren and another young lady, Rosie (who lives nearby in Gunter), they will take care of our sweet animals. Setting things up on the farm to be gone for a week, was a feat in itself. I’ll miss that the most. My Barn Time. Petting, loving, feeding and cleaning many animals has become not only a way-of-life, but a passion. It rivals with the calming effects of yoga.
One thing I know for sure, is that we will travel by bus to the “Ranch” today. We are not to leave there at all, for the duration of this trip. We do not leave the compound, until we are taken by bus the following Saturday back to the airport. No souvenir shopping. Nor are we allowed to give the children (on-site) anything - or bring gifts. The organizers do not want the children there to think they will always get things each time people come to volunteer. There is a Wish-List for the Orphanage if any one of us wants to donate to it directly, and/or bring things for the “Ranch”. They run a tight ship there, with volunteers coming and going. David and I have found it to be highly organized, with impeccable communication to the attendees. They make it easy, and have policies and procedures set out in detail.
I’ll report more as I can. WiFi and cell service is another item I’m unsure about in Honduras.
Happy Saturday,
Cyndi
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Right-sizing
There seems to be an unintentional theme going on lately. I almost titled this writing as Part II of Love and Loss, yet I felt it would be unfair to Sugar, as this particular loss I'll describe, was intentional - for the good of our farm animal. I'll narrate this in story form:
The Life and Times of Pickles
There once was a Mama and Papa donkey, who were both rescued from different places, to be brought together on a farm in Gunter. They quickly bonded, and got along very well, as if they had been together for many years. As their love for each other grew, they decided to have a baby donkey. To the surprise of the owners, a baby donkey was born in the pasture. Congrats Mama and Papa Donkey, you now have a baby boy. We shall name him Rocco, with a nickname of Baby.
Baby grew up in the pasture with his parents, Mama and Papa who are very tame, loving and kind. Yet, as Baby grew, his Mama and Papa began to see him differently. He matured into a grown donkey, and the dynamics of the herd changed. What was once two donkeys, now became three donkeys with family issues. There was jealousy and challenges along with playfulness and love.
Then, those owners decided to move away from Gunter, and sell their house to two unknowing people who readily agreed to let the donkeys stay, as the original owners could not take them with them. This new couple became fast friends with the donkeys, and fell in love with these sweet, gentle, full-size donkeys. Mama, Papa and Baby came to trust them impeccably, as well. Rocco was renamed to Pickles, but again was commonly called Baby. Time went forward, and the new owners built the threesome herd a large, new shelter, just for them. The herd is very smart, as when it's raining, they head under their shelter. They also use it for protection from the north wind. When the grass doesn't grow during the winter, round bales of hay are their food of choice. Life was good and easy, except for the continuation of isolation for Baby. As Baby got older, Mama and Papa became more dominant. Baby was readily nudged away at Treat Time. He would be chased off by Papa on random and inconsistent occasions. What appeared to be intermittent isolation was becoming a way of life for Baby. He was the third wheel, the outcast, the one who was never first. This behavior by Mama and Papa began to create uncertainty in Baby, and he began to be more stand-offish. At times, Papa could even be physically harming to Baby. Is this how it's supposed to be, the owners wondered? This behavior concerned the new couple over time. Is this normal donkey hierarchy? Is Baby needing to find a place of his own - to be able to be himself?
Baby turned three years old recently. Granted this is still young in donkey years, as they live to 35 years old. A decision was made by the owners to give Baby a chance at life without being bossed around by his Mama and Papa. This was a long and thought out decision, that took many months to finalize. Baby was ready to be on his own, and become an independent donkey. He's ready to be a guard donkey for someone, ready to live his best life making his own decisions without intimidation and domination.
A search brought the owners to a farm that was needing one donkey to protect a foal, as well as an older horse. This was a perfect opportunity for Baby to step up to the plate. He could be himself. He knows how to protect, and this farm wanted him as a pet as well, which is how he's used to being treated. Baby would have the best of both worlds, as he could still do his "job" - and be loved.
A day and time was agreed upon, and a transfer from one pasture to another (not too far away) would take place. Now, Baby has never been harnessed, he's never been in a trailer, nor has he ever left his home of 3 years. How would this transfer actually happen, as he would need to be coxed into a horse trailer and driven to his new home. But it did happen, just last Saturday here on the Graves Farm. Baby walked (rather willingly) into the horse trailer, and went along with the process wonderfully. He was so gentle and good, and everyone was so proud of him.
Baby left the Graves Farm in a luxury horse trailer and headed out to his new chapter in life. This new chapter for him includes freedom, and the ability to become his own self. Where his potential was once stifled at one farm by his own donkey parents, changed in the blink of an eye to his own self-awareness, his needs and wants, as well as the ability to make his own decisions.
And Baby will live happily ever after. The End. It's not really the end. But that's how stories usually end, with The End.
There was one person who cried a few tears in this particular "loss" (surprise, that was me). Between Sugar and Baby leaving me this weekend, it was rough. With that said, how's Mama and Papa Donkey doing, you ask? Well, they are snuggling and side-by-side as they always have been. But I know it can't be easy. (Am I just placing my own feelings on them?). I feel for them. Do they look around for him? Do they miss him? It's rare that donkey families stay together, so what are the emotions they have? I wish I knew. As I go about my day, I pet Mama and Papa, I love on them as I always do, and they love me back as usual - without the uncomfortable "keeping Baby away" thing going on. But I can't help but wonder......was that just what happens in donkey families? I may never know. I can only do what I think is best for our sweet Baby. That's what we do in life. The best we can in any situation.
David sums this experience up as right-sizing. We are keeping the balance on the farm, doing what we think is best, and cultivating harmony and happiness for all who live here. It sounds easy, but sometimes it's hard. Since we have gone so long without loss or change, this seemed like a weekend of uncertainty. It will take a little time to settle into these changes with these farm-animal-world happenings here on The Graves Farm, but I have a feeling there's more unpredictable things in the future. Some good and some not-so-good, but nevertheless we will take things as they come and enjoy all the blessings we have. We are most grateful. Faith keeps us strong in times of trials. We also have to trust our own intuition, have self-compassion, and keep learning. And just do what we think is best.
It's going to be okay,
Cyndi
The Life and Times of Pickles
There once was a Mama and Papa donkey, who were both rescued from different places, to be brought together on a farm in Gunter. They quickly bonded, and got along very well, as if they had been together for many years. As their love for each other grew, they decided to have a baby donkey. To the surprise of the owners, a baby donkey was born in the pasture. Congrats Mama and Papa Donkey, you now have a baby boy. We shall name him Rocco, with a nickname of Baby.
Baby grew up in the pasture with his parents, Mama and Papa who are very tame, loving and kind. Yet, as Baby grew, his Mama and Papa began to see him differently. He matured into a grown donkey, and the dynamics of the herd changed. What was once two donkeys, now became three donkeys with family issues. There was jealousy and challenges along with playfulness and love.
Then, those owners decided to move away from Gunter, and sell their house to two unknowing people who readily agreed to let the donkeys stay, as the original owners could not take them with them. This new couple became fast friends with the donkeys, and fell in love with these sweet, gentle, full-size donkeys. Mama, Papa and Baby came to trust them impeccably, as well. Rocco was renamed to Pickles, but again was commonly called Baby. Time went forward, and the new owners built the threesome herd a large, new shelter, just for them. The herd is very smart, as when it's raining, they head under their shelter. They also use it for protection from the north wind. When the grass doesn't grow during the winter, round bales of hay are their food of choice. Life was good and easy, except for the continuation of isolation for Baby. As Baby got older, Mama and Papa became more dominant. Baby was readily nudged away at Treat Time. He would be chased off by Papa on random and inconsistent occasions. What appeared to be intermittent isolation was becoming a way of life for Baby. He was the third wheel, the outcast, the one who was never first. This behavior by Mama and Papa began to create uncertainty in Baby, and he began to be more stand-offish. At times, Papa could even be physically harming to Baby. Is this how it's supposed to be, the owners wondered? This behavior concerned the new couple over time. Is this normal donkey hierarchy? Is Baby needing to find a place of his own - to be able to be himself?
Baby turned three years old recently. Granted this is still young in donkey years, as they live to 35 years old. A decision was made by the owners to give Baby a chance at life without being bossed around by his Mama and Papa. This was a long and thought out decision, that took many months to finalize. Baby was ready to be on his own, and become an independent donkey. He's ready to be a guard donkey for someone, ready to live his best life making his own decisions without intimidation and domination.
A search brought the owners to a farm that was needing one donkey to protect a foal, as well as an older horse. This was a perfect opportunity for Baby to step up to the plate. He could be himself. He knows how to protect, and this farm wanted him as a pet as well, which is how he's used to being treated. Baby would have the best of both worlds, as he could still do his "job" - and be loved.
A day and time was agreed upon, and a transfer from one pasture to another (not too far away) would take place. Now, Baby has never been harnessed, he's never been in a trailer, nor has he ever left his home of 3 years. How would this transfer actually happen, as he would need to be coxed into a horse trailer and driven to his new home. But it did happen, just last Saturday here on the Graves Farm. Baby walked (rather willingly) into the horse trailer, and went along with the process wonderfully. He was so gentle and good, and everyone was so proud of him.
Baby left the Graves Farm in a luxury horse trailer and headed out to his new chapter in life. This new chapter for him includes freedom, and the ability to become his own self. Where his potential was once stifled at one farm by his own donkey parents, changed in the blink of an eye to his own self-awareness, his needs and wants, as well as the ability to make his own decisions.
And Baby will live happily ever after. The End. It's not really the end. But that's how stories usually end, with The End.
There was one person who cried a few tears in this particular "loss" (surprise, that was me). Between Sugar and Baby leaving me this weekend, it was rough. With that said, how's Mama and Papa Donkey doing, you ask? Well, they are snuggling and side-by-side as they always have been. But I know it can't be easy. (Am I just placing my own feelings on them?). I feel for them. Do they look around for him? Do they miss him? It's rare that donkey families stay together, so what are the emotions they have? I wish I knew. As I go about my day, I pet Mama and Papa, I love on them as I always do, and they love me back as usual - without the uncomfortable "keeping Baby away" thing going on. But I can't help but wonder......was that just what happens in donkey families? I may never know. I can only do what I think is best for our sweet Baby. That's what we do in life. The best we can in any situation.
David sums this experience up as right-sizing. We are keeping the balance on the farm, doing what we think is best, and cultivating harmony and happiness for all who live here. It sounds easy, but sometimes it's hard. Since we have gone so long without loss or change, this seemed like a weekend of uncertainty. It will take a little time to settle into these changes with these farm-animal-world happenings here on The Graves Farm, but I have a feeling there's more unpredictable things in the future. Some good and some not-so-good, but nevertheless we will take things as they come and enjoy all the blessings we have. We are most grateful. Faith keeps us strong in times of trials. We also have to trust our own intuition, have self-compassion, and keep learning. And just do what we think is best.
It's going to be okay,
Cyndi
Sunday, February 4, 2018
With love, comes loss
It's a bit ironic that my last blog post was titled Goodbye, Things. It was in no way associated with what was "to come", but I felt a pang of "oh dear" when I saw that I had titled that as my last post. With that said, my heart is heavy. At this point, one might think I'm speaking of a relative or friend. Actually, I'm speaking of a recent happening on our farm.
Sugar is one of our newest additions to our chicken flock. We purchased two Polish (Silkie) chickens that are adorable, sweet natured, tame and bantam-sized (small breed). One was white, the other tan. We named them Sugar and Spice. We raised them in our shower inside the house, until they were ready to go outside to the Little Girl Coop. There is a transition process for adding chickens to an existing flock. Everyone does it a little different, and David and I have developed our own way of transitioning new chickens in with the others. This time was no different. Sugar and Spice moved from the shower to the Little Girl Coop, which is a closed, smaller coop in the barn, with a heat lamp to allow them time to adjust to the colder temperatures. The other chickens can get to know them, smell them, and adjust to them, before we let the newer chickens out to free range with the existing flock. It was during this time in the Little Girl Coop that we noticed Sugar was not her normal self. It was as if she lost control of her legs and feet. We did what all chicken people are told to do, and isolated her from the flock so that whatever she might have, is not given to the other chickens. A virus or disease can spread through a flock quickly and kill your entire chicken population. And it happens fast. We brought her back inside to the comfort and controlled environment of the shower. She was still eating and trying to drink, but her condition was progressively worsening day by day. Eventually, she could not eat or drink on her own, and her legs seemed paralyzed. We searched the internet for what might be the problem, all the while looking for a solution. A friend called her vet for advice, and we sought help from another chicken person. It appeared to be Marek's disease. This is horrible, as it's a fatal virus (very few chickens survive it, apparently) and now we run the risk of our other chickens being exposed to it, unless we got her out of the barn quick enough. Only time would tell. For now, our sweet little girl chicken, Sugar, is losing the battle. David and I begin feeding her (with a syringe) of our famous concoction consisting of wheat germ, peanut butter, electrolytes, and water. She readily opens her beak for us to feed her. She loves it actually, but is unable to control any of her body movements except her head. The virus is winning. We continue this for days. We sustain her life with this mixture of food and water, but her body has given out, and she cannot do anything but lay completely down. Head, wings, legs - everything is heavy on the floor of the shower on the pine shavings that are her bed. The suffering is hard to see, hard to watch, and is heart breaking. Now what? In all our time of having chickens, this is our first sick chicken. We once again go to the internet to search what other people have done, what is best, and what should we do next? It's not good news. Either we stop the food and water, and she slowly passes away. Or we "humanely" euthanize her to stop her suffering. Since I had began feeding her myself, I was guilty of continuing her situation, that was not going to get better. Only sustaining her misery.
After much education from chicken forums, thinking about it for some time, and talking with David, we knew what we had to do. We could not let her suffer any more. There were many helpful sources to help us process our situation. We had to accept this dilemma of a sick chicken who is dying. We don't let go easily. Many reputable chicken websites explain that with the responsibility of a flock, comes the responsibility of losses, and what to do in those situations. It won't always be rainbows and butterflies.
Fast forward to the ending of the story. Sugar passed away. Our hearts broke when she left us. It will take time to heal, but we must understand this is life on a farm. Her sister chicken, Spice is left alone without her best friend. It's a tragic loss for us, as it is our first loss. We have gone a very long time here on our "hobby" farm with healthy, strong and hearty animals. We haven't taken that for granted, mind you. We have always known that a time will come when something might happen. And that day came yesterday.
Rest In Peace, Sugar. We will march on with our flock, knowing that you are with us in spirit. The Circle of Life seems so logical and normal to me. Until I lost a chicken, and realize how delicate they really are. In the blink of an eye, she's gone. The blessing is that our flock is okay, and no one is showing those same symptoms. Truly a blessing.
Love and Loss. David said those words yesterday. With love, there is loss. It was a reminder I needed to hear. But, it's still hard.
Stay strong,
Cyndi
Sugar is one of our newest additions to our chicken flock. We purchased two Polish (Silkie) chickens that are adorable, sweet natured, tame and bantam-sized (small breed). One was white, the other tan. We named them Sugar and Spice. We raised them in our shower inside the house, until they were ready to go outside to the Little Girl Coop. There is a transition process for adding chickens to an existing flock. Everyone does it a little different, and David and I have developed our own way of transitioning new chickens in with the others. This time was no different. Sugar and Spice moved from the shower to the Little Girl Coop, which is a closed, smaller coop in the barn, with a heat lamp to allow them time to adjust to the colder temperatures. The other chickens can get to know them, smell them, and adjust to them, before we let the newer chickens out to free range with the existing flock. It was during this time in the Little Girl Coop that we noticed Sugar was not her normal self. It was as if she lost control of her legs and feet. We did what all chicken people are told to do, and isolated her from the flock so that whatever she might have, is not given to the other chickens. A virus or disease can spread through a flock quickly and kill your entire chicken population. And it happens fast. We brought her back inside to the comfort and controlled environment of the shower. She was still eating and trying to drink, but her condition was progressively worsening day by day. Eventually, she could not eat or drink on her own, and her legs seemed paralyzed. We searched the internet for what might be the problem, all the while looking for a solution. A friend called her vet for advice, and we sought help from another chicken person. It appeared to be Marek's disease. This is horrible, as it's a fatal virus (very few chickens survive it, apparently) and now we run the risk of our other chickens being exposed to it, unless we got her out of the barn quick enough. Only time would tell. For now, our sweet little girl chicken, Sugar, is losing the battle. David and I begin feeding her (with a syringe) of our famous concoction consisting of wheat germ, peanut butter, electrolytes, and water. She readily opens her beak for us to feed her. She loves it actually, but is unable to control any of her body movements except her head. The virus is winning. We continue this for days. We sustain her life with this mixture of food and water, but her body has given out, and she cannot do anything but lay completely down. Head, wings, legs - everything is heavy on the floor of the shower on the pine shavings that are her bed. The suffering is hard to see, hard to watch, and is heart breaking. Now what? In all our time of having chickens, this is our first sick chicken. We once again go to the internet to search what other people have done, what is best, and what should we do next? It's not good news. Either we stop the food and water, and she slowly passes away. Or we "humanely" euthanize her to stop her suffering. Since I had began feeding her myself, I was guilty of continuing her situation, that was not going to get better. Only sustaining her misery.
After much education from chicken forums, thinking about it for some time, and talking with David, we knew what we had to do. We could not let her suffer any more. There were many helpful sources to help us process our situation. We had to accept this dilemma of a sick chicken who is dying. We don't let go easily. Many reputable chicken websites explain that with the responsibility of a flock, comes the responsibility of losses, and what to do in those situations. It won't always be rainbows and butterflies.
Fast forward to the ending of the story. Sugar passed away. Our hearts broke when she left us. It will take time to heal, but we must understand this is life on a farm. Her sister chicken, Spice is left alone without her best friend. It's a tragic loss for us, as it is our first loss. We have gone a very long time here on our "hobby" farm with healthy, strong and hearty animals. We haven't taken that for granted, mind you. We have always known that a time will come when something might happen. And that day came yesterday.
Rest In Peace, Sugar. We will march on with our flock, knowing that you are with us in spirit. The Circle of Life seems so logical and normal to me. Until I lost a chicken, and realize how delicate they really are. In the blink of an eye, she's gone. The blessing is that our flock is okay, and no one is showing those same symptoms. Truly a blessing.
Love and Loss. David said those words yesterday. With love, there is loss. It was a reminder I needed to hear. But, it's still hard.
Stay strong,
Cyndi
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