New City Summer and Bird Medicine

I don't know that I'm cut out for all this. You read those books about women who traipse out across the world alone to find themselves and find happiness, and it all sounds so whimsical when written about at the end of the journey. Once you're safe and home and looking back, everything doesn't seem so bad. You can focus on the good and what you learned. But gosh darn it if the first bit doesn't hurt like hell.

I'm just gonna lay it out there. I'm in some pretty solid emotional pain. I miss my boyfriend, my dog, my family, and my country life. Living in a new city alone is scary. I'm lonely. Making friends takes some time, and getting up the gusto to go out and do stuff after getting up at 5 am  and getting home at 5 pm is hard. The last two days, I've come home and cried until I could talk to my boyfriend, whom I have kept on the phone until I'm sleepy enough for bed, and then I have another decent cry before falling into fitful sleep. Stuff gets better. Yeah, I know that. However, the depth of pain I feel for that first few days and weeks makes me question whether this dream chasing life is worth it.

Cities are strange places. When I first came out of the tunnel and onto the yellow bridge that led me into Pittsburgh, I was taken with some sense of awe and excitement. It looked foreign and the buildings reflecting in the river seemed pleasant. I got moved into my apartment...of sorts. For my first week here I am in a 3rd floor apartment alone, until I move to a bigger room with a roommate at the first of the month. Anyway, this place is definitely less nice than I'm used to, it's in a busy area where I constantly hear people working or talking or driving outside, my shower is under a slanted roof, which requires me to hang the curtain by a hook to keep it from sliding down and I've cracked my head more than once while washing myself, and finally, I found a jug of what I'm almost certain is old pee under the sink. Very questionable. But I have a bed and water and an A/C unit, and so I feel I can't complain too much.

Photo credit: blog.emergingscholars.org

My first day here, I needed to go get groceries. I don't think people in cities do this activity like I am used to. Where I am from, you go into a huge store with a huge parking lot, grab a shopping cart, and stock up on supplies for a week or two of living. Here, I had to park inside a parking garage and ride an elevator, of all things, down INTO the grocery store. I use the term grocery store, but this place had only the bare essentials, with (at most) 2 different brands of items to choose from. And they were brands I'd never heard of. I needed a cart to get food for a week. However, two police officers were guarding the carts, and they were all chained together. I contemplated trying to carry my items because I was nervous about this cart situation, but after carrying a loaf of bread around aimlessly, I sucked it up and approached the police officers for help. They instructed me to put a quarter into the shopping cart to get it out. "Where?" I asked. They had to do it for me. Turns out, when you put a quarter in, the shopping cart becomes unchained to the others, and you get your quarter back when you return the cart. Seems odd, seeing as someone who is willing to steal a shopping cart probably isn't too worried about losing one quarter. Anyway, that was weird. Then, I go to check out and guess what? They don't bag your stuff for you. There aren't even bags in the store. The cashier checked out my items at lightening speed and threw them into the basket aggressively, and I was terrified a stray can would crush my bread. I then had to go find an empty box in the store and use it to transport my goods. Which, I could not carry because I had too many. I had to approach the cop again. Thankfully, there was a return for the shopping carts at the top of the elevator, and I was able to unload the things into my car before giving the cart back and retrieving my quarter. I also have a sneaking suspicion about all foods from Pennsylvania. Every trip I've been on to this state, and it's been probably over 100 times now, I've noticed this slight almost milky taste to all the foods. I have NO IDEA what it's coming from, but it turns out my boyfriend agrees with me. I know there are lots of dairy cows in PA, but what is this magic?

There's alot of construction and old buildings and run down crumbly things in cities. Grass is hard to come by, and when I see a place that has a park or something, I have NO idea where I'm supposed to put my car to get there. There is no parking anywhere. I miss being able to walk out my door and have a yard to sit in. I don't get much solitude on my rusty fire escape. Traffic is pretty yucky in the afternoons when I am coming home from work.

There are some good things, though. The University of Pittsburgh, which is right in front of my house, has some gorgeous buildings. I've been taking my daily runs by them, and I keep stopping for pictures like a true tourist. There seem to be some cool things to do on my days off, like museums and the zoo and festivals. Beyonce is gonna be here Tuesday, and I'm hoping I can hear her concert from my house...Heinz field is not TOO far away. I went to the Carnegie Natural History and Art museum my first full day here, and they had some really good exhibits on dinosaurs, gems and crystals, Native Americans, ancient Egypt, and of course tons of wonderful art.

Work has been mostly just training on cleaning and husbandry so far, but I have been able to observe some procedures. The vet staff takes care of the sick birds, as well as birds who are off exhibit and have special needs in terms of medical problems or disabilities. Many birds at the aviary get frequent bandage changes for one reason or another. Some have chronic foot infections, others had a previous trauma that has left them with only one limb or deformed limbs. Several get daily medications for their conditions. These birds are all happy and can eat and sing and fly around, they just wouldn't be able to be in big enclosures where other birds could bully them for being different. So far, I have seen 3 big cases. One was a prolapsed cloaca in a bird, and I was excited to see how the case was treated very similarly to a ruminant or horse prolapse. "One medicine," they keep saying, but the cleaning of the tissues, moisturizing them, reducing swelling with sugar solution, and replacing the tissue were all the same. Thankfully, this bird didn't need sutures to hold in the prolapse once reduced, but that was an option if necessary. Birds can prolapse for many reasons. They may have a gastrointestinal disease or internal blockage, such as an egg that won't pass, which causes them to strain significantly. Forced straining can lead to expulsion of the tissue inside the body where it should be. We did various tests to see what is going on with this bird and are awaiting the results. I also saw a bird who had gotten a piece of string wrapped around its leg in its exhibit and needed the string removed. Thankfully, the keepers noticed the issue very early, and the foot was still in very good condition. The vet removed the string and gave some pain medication, and we monitored the bird overnight to make sure he was able to grip with the foot where the constriction was. He was doing great in the morning and got to go back to his exhibit. Today, I saw a case of bumble foot in an owl. Bumble foot is a condition that particularly happens in captive birds, and can also be referred to as ulcerative pododermatitis. What happens typically is that wear on the bottom of the feet from artifical perching material or birds being on wet concrete, etc, leads to irritation on the skin of the foot. In the irritated portions, bacteria, usually Staphylococcus, enters and causes an infection. Other agents of disease, such as fungus, can enter this infected tissue and complicate matters. Severe bumble foot can even end up leading to bone infection. Bumble foot is insanely hard to get rid of. Some things that can be done to help in treating include padding perching and surfaces where the birds will be, regular cleaning of the infected tissues and removing dead tissue, as well as applying anti-inflammatories and antibiotics to the site, and keeping it padded and wrapped to standing is more comfortable for the bird. The case we had today was fairly severe, and is going to require intensive long-term management. In some ways, bumble foot reminds me of laminitis in horses. The chronicity, difficulty in treating, differing susceptibility of individuals, consideration that birds must bear weight on their feet at all times like horses, and treatments are all similar. "One medicine" again.

We shall see what the rest of the week brings!

Devon Skies.

I should have taken the time out to write about Devon. I should have sat down the day after it happened when the wretched sting of shock had somewhat worn into grieving. But I was in the throws of my second year classes...and I channeled my tears into toils over my studies and pushed through the semester. But now, as I sit alone in a new city, missing the people and places I call home, I realize sweet Devon deserves my time. He deserves the careful crafting of words that both hurt and heal. And honestly, I deserve it too. I get so caught up in the difficulty of veterinary school that I forget to be kind to everyone, including myself.

Devon was, in many ways, the perfect horse. He may not have been the fairest gelding in the field, but he had the most pure and loving heart. He had a joy for all things--particularly running fast, bucking, rolling, and eating any and all treats presented before him. He had a gentle curiosity that would lead him to follow you around the field whether you wanted him to or not. And he never let you out of reach of his soft muzzle and smacking lips, which were constantly at your pockets looking for more treats. That horse never showed his age when I rode him. I owned him from when he was 16-28, and the whole time he still acted like a 2 year old under saddle. He always wanted to go go go. He had a terrible habit of throwing his head up at me in angst when I forced him to walk or trot and he wanted to canter or gallop (which was always). Once, I foolishly thought I would allow him to go full speed up a steep hill at the end of our ride.  The first 20 seconds were absolutely glorious. I gripped his mane and felt as if I were on wings as we catapulted above the ground. But as we got closer to fence, I realized Devon wasn't slowing down. At the very last second, he leaned back with full force and skidded sideways up to the side of the fence, somewhat like fast cars do in movies. However, unlike fast cars in movies, I lacked a seat belt and went tumbling over Devon's side, along with the saddle. It was about that moment that I remembered the fence was lined with barbed wire. I looked down to see my white breeches torn and soaked with blood all along the back of my leg.  I promptly passed out. When I awoke some minutes later, it was to find Devon quietly munching grass beside me, with his saddle hanging from his belly and his bridle still on. He gave me an inquisitive look like, "So, why do I still have this tack on?" and I gathered my senses enough to remove it from him. I couldn't call my mom, this being in a time before cell phones were commonplace, so I forced myself to look away from the sight of my leg and limp up the driveway from the barn to my house. I had many cuts that had bled alot, but they were fairly superficial, and I didn't need stitches. I have one good sized scar from it today, but the rest have faded. Though it caused me pain, it is one of my favorite memories of him. The rushing headlong into fun and only slowing when absolutely necessary, as well as the watching over of a crumpled me, are so quintessentially Devon.

The day I lost him was heartbreaking and terrible. I woke up to a missed call and a text from my father saying, "Please call me immediately. Devon is down." I had lived for some years in fear of this text. I always used to tell Artex but not Devon, "Please don't die on me while I'm away at college," because I always just felt Devon would live to be 40. But ever since I lost Artex last June, every missed call from my dad would make my heart skip a beat. One week before I lost Devon, I started having various nightmares about him being taken from me while I had no power to help him. The night before I got the dreaded text,I had a dream early in the night about Artex. He was talking to me in a field. When I woke, I felt the most acute pang of sadness for missing Artex and for my Devon. I sat up crying in my bed while Zack held me. I can't remember what Artex said in the dream, but it must have been about Devon. I can't explain what power allowed that interaction, but I think it was a sign. The morning after the dream, as soon as I got on the phone with my dad, I knew the situation was grave. Devon was found lying in the field, and the only part of him that was moving was a twitching upper lip. Devon's normal vet was out of town, and so another was to come out to see him. Zack and I jumped in the car and started driving home immediately. On the car ride home, I got a call from the veterinarian saying that he couldn't make a diagnosis on Devon with his physical alone, but that he was fading fast. We continued to trudge onward to home. I didn't expect him to make it until I got there.

When I arrived at the pasture edge, jumped the fence, and tore down the hill to see my baby, the sight of him nearly stopped my heart. He was completely stiff in his legs, and his head and neck were seizing. His eyes rolled in their sockets and that soft sweet lip that always searched for treats shook on and on. I bent down and lay myself across his neck. I stroked his face and told him, " You can let go now love, please go see Artex." Within one minute, his body relaxed, he took a last heaving breath, and he left this world. It was during this time that I seemed to become aware that my mother, father, and Zack were also around. They all expressed their sadness differently. Mom was frantically talking about how he waited on me, she just knew it, because of how he relaxed when I spoke. My dad was silent and watchful. Zachary was quietly crying to himself. I looked upon those who have shaped who I am, including Devon. It meant the world that they were there for me, but I then asked them to step away for a moment. I needed my minute with a creature who had also shaped my life as much as they had, and I hope that I also shaped his life. I curled up there on his neck, taking the fetal position, and felt both incredibly young and incredibly old at the same time. Twelve years of perfect friendship and understanding were wrapped in that moment, and I let my tears pour all over his mane as they had so many times before.

My two beautiful horses are one of the major reasons I am where I am today. I left the barn one evening years ago, smelling of sweat and hay and manure, and I realized that I was completely and utterly happy. If I could be covered in the scents of animals and have worked hard for several hours and be happy, I knew exactly what I needed to do with my life. In that epiphany, when I was 17, I decided that I would work with everything in my being to be a veterinarian to help animals. And I am still working as hard as I can. As Emerson would say, I feel that when all my arrows are spent, I will throw my body at the mark of my goal. Sometimes I still can't believe my parents granted my crazy wish of wanting a horse when I was 12 years old. Deep down, I believe they knew what they were giving me was far more than what I was asking for. Those two horses gave me determination, taught me what hard work was, allowed me to fly across fields, gave me someone to talk to when I was happy or sad or angry, and ultimately planted within me a seed of love for all creatures that I carry with me today. Devon and Artex are in my heart always. Devon's loss came unexpectedly, and I was not prepared for it. But truly, we are never prepared for death. Even when it was Artex, and I made the decision, I wasn't prepared for the flooding of memories, the pain, and ultimately, I hope, the peace I will gain in losing something so important. Until then, sweet boys, run free and eat every banana in your path.