Our week started on Monday by visiting our neighbor to offer our condolences on the sudden death of his wife, Nancy. She was only a few weeks older than myself and had suffered a massive stroke on the Friday before as she was driving to an errand in Rutland. Their daughter and ours had been in drama together throughout high school, with Nancy and I sewing, altering and manufacturing many of the costumes they used. Her untimely death is a tragic loss to her family and her community. She will be greatly missed.
Later on that afternoon, Jeff caught his thumb in his wood splitter. This was a shocking thing as he has been splitting wood for years and years and has always been so very careful, as his hands are his livelihood. I rushed him to the Emergency Room (about 25 miles away) as he held his thumb together in a clean rag with some ice. At the ER he was wrapped up in a more professional manner and made comfortable while we waited for a let up in the more pressing emergencies which seemed to be flooding in. The attending doctor felt he would need the services of the reconstructive surgeon who was able to come within a fairly short time. The good news was that the damage is above the joint, and the tendon wasn't hurt. The bad news was bone breakage and general mashing of the end. He ended up giving Jeff a pin in the tip of the thumb to hold the bone together while it heals. He taped a lightweight brace to his wrist which goes over his thumb to protect it, and a sling to keep the thumb elevated above his heart. Jeff must keep it warm, dry and protected for several weeks while the bone regrows and the outside heals. If he obeys these orders, he probably will not lose the end of his thumb. However, being self employed means that there is no sick pay or other compensation for being out of work. So that preys on his mind, although we certainly are not going to starve in four weeks. Harder still will be finding things to keep him occupied while he is not barbering!
|Jeff giving me the thumbs up|
Wednesday night when I went to lock up my chickens, I counted them per usual and came up one short. Not Good! It turned out to be my sweet little Goldie, found down in the ditch by the road. It appears that she was hit and had her neck broken. This is the first chicken in all the time I've been raising them to get hit. I was very sad as she greeted me every morning, would let me pick her up and had been giving me an egg a day. And look at all the things I did for her little bare body! Poor little Goldikins. At least she died quickly.
|Splitting by hand and with the log splitter|
|Ready to eat!|