Well, knock me down with a chicken!

Okay, so I have been running a high temp since Aug 14, feeling puny since August 12, have gone to doctor twice and taking another round of strong antibiotics and prednisone to help with the head congestion that will not ease. There is little cough, a bit of sore throat, and little sinus pressure. So, I feel lovely, am either hot or sweaty or dried to an ickiness. It definitely is not strep.

Balance has been a problem because I feel half here. I almost fell down the basement steps today since earlier in the day I decided the tomatoes were drooping too much. Getting up and down the steps into the house is dicey. I almost fell several times due to general achyness and lack of will to put my feet in the right place.

Yesterday, I was carrying about 16 oz of water in a plastic tumbler and a small bowl of dry oats, on my way out the door to feed the hens. I tripped on the carpet, kicked the waste basket into my path, stumbled over it and hit myself in the lips and mouth with the plastic tumbler, spilling water on me and dry oats on the carpet. I need to 1) vacuum the carpet or 2) let Fancy in to clean the carpet of oats or 3) wait on exbf and ask him to vacuum the oats. Really, I will wait until he comes so he can be my spotter in case I fall over the canister vacuum while I vacuum that one spot.

Yesterday, I was feeding the hens late, near dusk. They all three had come to perch on the iron railing next to the door, wailing mournfully in an attempt to induce me to come out and feed them supper. You may not believe it, but chickens do know how to beg. I started feeding them near the door at dusk, and they think that is where the food should be. At first, they never got a scrap unless they were in the pen. Good training and it worked. After the raccoon ate Chessie, I decided to feed them close to the door near dark.

That's why they were pestering me yesterday. I went out with a plate of food and managed to get down the steps safely. As I raked it into a pan near the house, Fancy jumped down and ran over. Thelma felt she would just run down the steps. I heard Louise flapping and taking off. She hit me on the right side of my  R knee that had the repaired torn medial meniscus, the one the doctor told me to be careful with. I think that hit was an acl tearer. Or, a lateral meniscus damager.

I staggered about a bit, twisting the L knee that has a torn lateral meniscus that needs surgery. Then, I hobbled to fix their cage on the porch and almost fell backwards off the steps onto concrete. I need a hole to crawl into.

Dinner is pimiento and cheese, ruffled chips, and diet Coke because I want it.  And, I ate KFC last night and there is no one to fix me anything. This morning, the hens went nuts over the breast skin, meat on the bones and the bones.

Sitting and typing is my best thing since Aug 12, 2011. But, there is more to life than this. Sleeping ranks really high. Yes, when chickens are not hitting me, I am stumbling over them.

I refuse to take aspirin to lower my temp or even Tylenol because my body is taking care of itself when I have a temp above normal. But, normal for me is iffy. Most of the time my temp is 97.2, but one day it was 96.5 or lower. I have to work to convince a doctor that if I am running an abnormal temperature.

Okay, right after this is Dumpster Diving II.

Over and out,
The permanently feverish one who is not taking any pictures.