Poor Rosie was orphaned this morning, probably by that trio of hawks that fly over our house every couple of hours. We keep the cats inside and the chickens locked up. But have any of you noticed that keeping cats and chickens penned up just isn’t as easy as it sounds?
We have 3 entrances, side door, front door and sliding glass door. We are always in or out or letting visitors in or out or letting the dogs in or out…shit. It’s hard enough to keep the cats in! Now it seems Loretta and her two baby chicks somehow got outside the fence and Loretta and the white baby are gone, leaving little Rosie running around in a panic trying to find Momma.
She is in the spare bedroom right now, sleeping. And I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the chickens because of my chemotherapy and suppressed immune system. Still, I’ll be double damned if I am going to put her out there with two roosters and 13 full grown chickens who are pecking her and chasing her away. We are going to have to reintroduce her to them the normal way, with a fence and protection, since they can’t seem to recognize her without Loretta and the baby.
Which brings me to rule # 8: Find your heroes. There are heroes out there, really real ones who will fly to your rescue and swoop down and save your sorry ass when you are in a panic outside the fence and you feel like you are all alone.
Today I was visited by Arms Around Bainbridge. They are a grassroots organization that is devoted to finding someone in need and SWOOPING! I was swooped off my feet! It’s not a word I ever felt I could legitimately use. I’m tall. Almost 6 ft. No one has ever done any swooping of me. Not off my feet, as it were. I always worry about their back. “You should put me down, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not kidding.”
Ken and Kimberley came by as representatives of the board of directors and they brought pastries (which I am proud to say I didn’t even want to try though I thought I was being rude and I should have at least the chocolate croissant or the almond croissant- so I did have a small bite of each one to be polite…HAR!) anyway…pastries are a distracting subject for me. I blogged about almond croissant earlier. Patisseries and such…it’s not easy cutting sugar and gluten totally out of ones diet. Really. I think it’s all about moderation. And not thinking about it too much.
Jesus, where was I? Oh, Ken and Kimberley. My heroes of the day. Swooping. Right on track again…they asked me what I needed. Which is not easy for me to articulate so I kept on telling funny stories that would digress into conversation which is fine if you’re inviting them over for breakfast. But this was supposed to be business.
I finally spit it out. My medical coverage is going to run out in early May. Or sooner. My insurance money, all $880 a month I live on, is going to vanish as well. I was turned down for SSI – supplementary income from social security even though I supposedly qualify with my stage of cancer and degree of illness. Yoicks! I can’t afford Cobra coverage at $500+ a month to keep medical. Can’t get a clean bill of health to go back to work and they won’t take me back without one…can you see how up a tree I am here, people? Lets not even start on healthy food, bills, broken car, getting to chemotherapy every Friday, prescriptions and every single other thing that I need help with. Heroes? I could use a flock of them. And I got a few. Believe it or not.
Turns out Ken is a lawyer. He knows lawyers. He knows a Social Security lawyer who will help me plead my case. Kimberley knows a mechanic who is a member or Arms Around Bainbridge who may be able to fix my broken down car if I can get part money- and the part is not expensive! I checked when it broke. The problem is that little part is in the transmission. Michael can do the labor for free. Cobra money may be able to be paid for out of donations. Maybe just for a short while, because I’ll be getting better and be back to work, right? Get my medical back. They know farmers who donate food, fruit and vegetables and organic chickens (yes, I’ll eat an organic chicken. HELL YEAH! Just not one of mine) they talked about a work committee to help build raised bed containers so that I can GARDEN. Garden! Do you know how that made me feel? To think that I can grow some food? Be outside and participate in my recovery? I want to cry right now because it makes me all swoopy feeling. Like I was swept off my feet. By real heroes. Not Superman. By real ones.
My heroes are real!