On our last day of adventures in Taipei, we began with a visit to the Taipei Zoo.  This is no small place, and I’m sure we walked a few miles.  It is half a mile from just the front gate to the animals.  The zoo design categorizes animals by continent.  Sometimes there are two or three enclosed habitats for the same animals.  Most of the animal living spaces seem large and safari like in spite of their camouflaged walls, moats, and electric wire.  However, even with that, I never felt completely safe from the things like lions and white rhinos.  One lion had a roaring spree right after we walked by.  The volume of his repetitive roar was bone chilling.  I would understand if prey was paralyzed by fear when they heard it!

Pandas have been there since just before we stopped living in Taipei two years ago.  It was a lot less crowded this time around and no guard.   We were able to stand there much longer, happening to have arrived right before feeding time.  Greg took a video of the live Teddy Bear.  We thought it was interesting how the panda peeled the bamboo and even then didn’t seem to eat it all before moving on to the next piece.

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So many animals of varied cuteness, magnificence, or oddity, but I will only post a few pictures this time around.  Descriptions will be below each photo.

This is a type of small deer (here in the zoo) that Greg came across while running in the jungle like parks around and in Taipei.

Besides birds, this was one of the only cages with bars.  I’m guessing leopard are just too good at jumping.

Who doesn’t love an elephant?!  We were fascinated to watch the one in front play with a softball sized rock in his trunk, rolling it up, knocking it on the cement, putting it in his mouth, over and over, with slight variations each time.

There were three kinds of lemurs in this enclosure, all very active, apparently unaware that they were in a cage or being viewed.

This possibly shows 1/3 of the giraffe quarters.  I liked the chocolate color of the guy on the far right…  but I didn’t have time to really get to know him.

Another visitor to the zoo who was only there for the warm rocks.

The hippos were all crammed into one corner for feeding time.  I don’t recall seeing hippos out of water and was rather shocked by their layers and folds.  Very plump!

There are a large variety of birds in the zoo, but most of it was blocked for remodeling.  This fellow looks quite military.

This one looks like aliens I’ve seen in the movies.

I know how this one is feeling about his hair…

This crane was all arrogant crankiness.  “Just take your picture, then, and let me get back to my nap.”

The Asian sun bear was showing off.

I enjoyed the vibrant rusty orange of this animal.

This monkey seemed to be hunting bugs among the wildflowers, leaving the standard zoo fare alone.

This was labeled “jungle fowl.”  Really.  I will never look at my chickens that same way again.

This white rhino seemed to want me to know that I should be in dread fear of him, and he is right.  There was no sense of warm cuddlies from him.

And here we are “in” North America with the wolves.  Seeing them up close makes me even less fond of the idea of repopulating my backwoods with them.  The only animal we didn’t go see were the horses.  Greg said we have some of those in our backyard and it wasn’t worth the walk.

We ended our visit to Taipei by going to the Ziga Zaga Club in the Grand Hyatt Hotel.  This was the hotel we stayed in for our first three weeks in Taipei, when we were looking for an apartment to live in, but we never went to the clubs then, other than to glance into them.  The Grand Hyatt is right behind the Taipei World Trade Center, that Greg worked at on Friday, so not very far away from our hotel this time.  There was an excellent live band and a lot of tables filled with people for a Tuesday night.  Greg and I put on our barefoot shoes, mine being a version of this, and showed what we are made of, just like on the cruise ship, when I also danced for hours in these Vibrams.  Vibrams are the only way to dance!

So many times when we have a party or dance, there aren’t nearly as many men as there are women.  This is not the case with chickens.  It is hard to find a person raising chickens that hasn’t had to try to find a home for a rooster at least once, whether that home be someone’s back yard or their freezer.  Many people who raise chickens keep mostly hens for egg production.  Some people raise chickens for meat.  We raise them for both, keeping the hens and butchering all but a couple roosters, eating the eggs and the meat.  We usually butcher our surplus roosters and sometimes we give them away, but we don’t normally have more than two or three to take care of.  In this case, we had eight.

Last spring, my mom gave three hens and one rooster to her friend, Mrs. Nelson.  They agreed that if they could hatch chicks, they would equally split the resulting chickens between them.  Soon, one of the hens went broody and hatched twelve chicks.  One of the chicks died, but the rest continued to grow strong and healthy.  We wanted to find out which ones were roosters as soon as possible, so that the meat on them wouldn’t get tough.  They grew to be about eight months old before we thought we were sure that all but four of them were roosters.  When we found this out, we knew that we wanted to butcher the roosters as soon as possible.  Mrs. Nelson told us about a company called Cluck & Pluck that butchers birds for people.  Our first plan had been to butcher the seven roosters at home, but it quickly got too cold for that.  We decided to see if Cluck & Pluck would be able to butcher our roosters for us.

After Mrs. Nelson gave Mom the phone number, I called 541-856-3347 to see if Cluck & Pluck would be open any time in November or December.  We were told that they would be open once more that year.  After a few more phone calls back and forth, Mom had directions on how to get there and all we had to do was wait for the day to come.

On the morning of Saturday, December 11, 2010, Jesse and I went out in the dim morning light and caught the four roosters that we wanted to take to Cluck & Pluck. By the time Mom had started warming up the car, we had them securely shut in two card board boxes and placed in the back of the car.  Mom and I drove to Mrs. Nelson’s house to pick up her roosters.  Altogether, with our roosters and Mrs. Nelson’s, we had seven chickens in three cardboard boxes.  We ended up leaving one of the young roosters at Mrs. Nelson’s house under the misconception of its being a hen.  While Mom and I were driving, Mrs. Nelson called to say that the supposed hen had just crowed and was going to be posted for sale on Craig’s List.

The roads were icy and there was still snow everywhere from before Thanksgiving, when we received about 7 inches of snow.  About forty-five minutes after leaving Mrs. Nelson’s house, we drove up to a small metal building next to a few other houses and surrounded by snowy fields.   The snow made it a little more difficult to recognize your surroundings, especially if you had never been there before.

The Small Metal Building

When we first arrived, we were unsure if it was the right place.  There was a group of men talking by some cars and one young man, wearing a worn, yellow, plastic jumper over his clothes, going in and out of the building.  Mom stepped out of the car and asked the men if this was where Cluck & Pluck was operating.  It was, so we unloaded the boxes of chickens with the help of the young man in yellow.  We were instructed to put the boxes just inside the door, where there happened to be a puddle of dirty water.  There were two other men in the building, who were also wearing yellow plastic jumpers, and a woman wearing a black apron, in the other side of the building.  After they had taken our roosters, the men asked us if we wanted the boxes back.  Mom laughed and said no, explaining to me that she didn’t want the card board boxes that had been sitting in blood, water, and chicken feathers.

When we stepped into the small metal building, the first thing I noticed was the warm steam, the second was the smell.

It wasn’t any worse than the smell of chickens or goats, but I would need a moment to get used to it.  After I was accustomed to the smell, I studied my surroundings more carefully.  I was standing in an open corner to the right of the door and, despite the machinery, could see into all except one of the other three corners of the building.  I was glad I had such a good view of things without being in the way of the employees.  All the birds went through every working station in the building.  The first step was to get the squawking, flapping chickens to stay still.

Our seven roosters were put, head down, into metal cones which held the chicken’s heads apart from the rest of their bodies and kept most of them from flapping their wings.  While the last of our chickens were getting put into their individual cones, one of the first to go in managed to wiggle back up out of the cone.  He was immediately confronted by the man who had put him there.  The rooster was flapping its wings and squawking like a chicken that thinks it’s dying just from being touched by a human.  The man soon won the struggle, but not without receiving a few hard whacks from the rooster’s strong wings.

There was no more noticeable movement from the roosters until the nerves reacted after they were decapitated.  The birds were left in the cones for a while to let the blood drain out as much as possible and their feet were cut off.

The employees worked on another man’s birds until ours were done draining.  When they were, the employee working nearest to the door moved them to a counter and thoroughly hosed off the wall and floor where they had drained.  This employee was probably in his twenties and had been working there since he was a young child and his grandfather owned the company.  He was very friendly the entire time, but also kept working while he talked with Mom.  After he finished cleaning, he put four or five of the birds into a treasure chest shaped cage that was attached to a rectangular metal machine.  When the machine was turned on, the cage was lowered into steaming water and was slowly rotated.  Occasionally, the employee would stop the machine and pull off any obvious clumps of feathers.

Once all seven of our birds were done in the steamer, they were relocated to the plucking machine.

This was a machine that looked like a large tub with short rubber tubes covering the inside.

I never saw the machine working, but I know that it made quite a bit of noise.  When the chickens came out of it, they were no longer the proud owners of any feathers.

After that, two people in the back worked on removing the entrails and double checking the work of the plucking machine.  When they were done, one of them would make sure that all the heads, feathers, feet, and insides were in a bucket.  He would then take the bucket out and dump it in some large trash barrels that would be emptied at an organic land fill.

The meat continued to move on, the next step being to cool in a tub of constantly fresh water.  Since these tubs were in the other side of the building, Mom and I went to look and wait in the front corner that I had previously been unable to see.  There were other birds also cooling in the tubs in the back, but all the orders were kept in separate tubs.

The owner was the lady working back here.  She was cooling the meat, then vacuum sealing it into bags for the customers.  Mom talked with the owner and one other customer while we waited.  In the first side of the building, there had been steam from the steamer that kept me warm, but in this side of the building I soon became cold and Mom sent me to sit in the car with the heater on.  I sang and crocheted until Mom came out with out chickens.  We put them into a cooler and Mom went back in to pay before we left.  She then came back out, and we went on our way.  We drove back to the Nelson’s house and gave them three of the chickens.  Mrs. Nelson paid Mom, and they talked while I played with the Nelson’s dogs.  Since Mom and I had been gone from home all morning, it was a short visit.  We got back in the car for the last time before reaching home.

As soon as we arrived at home, we put the chickens into the freezer until a day when we would want to cook with them.  I had been running after chickens and waiting in places where chickens had been all day, so I felt rather filthy.  Thankfully, I was able to shower right after helping Mom put the chickens away.  The rest of the day was pleasantly relaxing after the fast paced morning and I didn’t leave the house any more that day.  Twice since then, we have enjoyed the chicken in delicious soups.

I was glad that we didn’t end up butchering the chickens ourselves out in the cold.  It was also interesting to see at least one of the ways that other people take care of their extra roosters.  It hadn’t previously occurred to me that there were companies that butchered birds or other animals in small quantities for people who raise fewer at a time.  I would recommend Cluck & Pluck as a solution for unwanted rooster populations.

My husband has taught us all to look out the window once in a while.  This week it paid off because we got to observe multiple cute birds feasting in the dandelion patches in the lawn just beyond the back patio.  Tuesday it was house finches, including a predominantly pinkish-red male.  I tried to step out and get a photograph, but they were gone before I had quietly opened the sliding door 3 inches.  I then tried to sit out with the camera for a while, but they never came back down from the gorgeously green mature maple,oak, and locust before I got chilled and had to go in.

Today we spotted what we think is a Lazuli Bunting.  I am reasonably satisfied with a few photos I obtained through the window and was able to compare it with information in a book specifically about birds in Idaho.  I’ve never heard of a Lazuli Bunting before, but this book is organized by what color stands out on the birds.  It was very easy to use; it makes me very nearly feel like an ornithologist!  My “studies” have also lead me to this website that has recordings of the bird songs.

The trouble is that I was just getting ready to kill the dandelions.  I’ve been feeling terrible guilt for years since ours is THE dandelion nursery in the neighborhood.  I’m sure the neighbors hold up their crucifixes (or the equivalent) as they go by.  This  year there was time and energy to begin eradication.  But the bird experts say that the little guys really like the dandelions, greens and seeds.  Oh, what to do?!  My 17 year old son suggests maintaining  limited patches so that it is safe to go barefoot in the yard in most places.  My 14 year old points out that the back yard, where most of the bright yellow is, is not visible from the front.  I think I’m leaning toward maintaining bird habitat, at least for now.

I have been relieved to learn that I should only isotonically work each of the muscle groups twice a week.  That means weight lifting.  It also points to the wisdom of having a varied exercise routine for aerobic goals.  That way the muscles have time to respond in a healthy way to the stress that is supposed to make them stronger.  So, today, I almost walked the dog.

The normal routine is for the kids and I to go to the gym 4 weekday mornings.  Wednesday is my day-off of that routine, a day to begin with a more relaxing pace.  Part of that is sometimes a leisurely walk with my dog.  She is well trained to walk without pulling on the leash, although the occasional biker is a quite a temptation.  Passing other dogs requires alertness on my part, but she is gradually learning that I will be firm every time she breaks ranks.

Today was a day, however, where the schedule kept adjusting the walk right down to the bottom of the list.  So I took her to D & B instead.  She likes that store.  It is a little scary because there are so many corners, birds squeaking in cages, and clothes hanging around on racks pretending to be people, but, on the whole, it is wonderfully fragrant and the cashier hands out tasty treats.

It was extra crowded today because of a sale going on and one of the shoppers had apparently either been gone too long or overestimated his dog’s desire to wait for him.  This dog surprised us both when it quietly nosed Kiwi from behind.  It was a cute and soft looking, reminiscent of a border collie, about half Kiwi’s size.  Kiwi can be nervous, so I was pleased when she didn’t over react.  She held her heel and didn’t growl, only trembled a little and did some of her own sniffing.  After a few seconds of this, we proceeded into the store…  and so did the other dog.

Maybe the store personnel thought the dog came in with me.  Kiwi began to get more uncomfortable with the ongoing attention, so I tried to discourage the pup in a friendly way.  It left, only to return around another corner.  The third time it showed up, Kiwi was barking a warning.  I managed to get the attention of a sales person about 30 feet and an aisle away.  “Excuse me.  Sir?  I think you have a stray dog in here.”  He was very good about getting it immediately, but my adrenaline was going a bit by this time.

That excitement over, we finished our shopping and checked out.  No more dogs in the parking lot.  I’m told that banks like patrons to take their dogs in, that it helps keep the bad guys away, but that probably doesn’t count the banks in grocery stores, so she stayed in the car for that leg of the trip.   She seemed to enjoy her almost walk, hang-out-with-my-human adventure of the day, but I feel she was shortchanged.

I may have to get her more accustomed to trotting along as I roller-blade.   That way she can get more exercise in a shorter time?  I tried that a couple of times, before she was so well trained and I took quite a spill on asphalt when she became averse to a certain passerby.  Once I landed in mud around the ponds due to a loose puppy.  No bruises or broken bones, though.   Still, we may do a few test runs in a non-populated, circular area with lots of grass available for landing.

to read part 4 click here

The next three years were filled with some of the hardships of life.  First, I ripped cartilage in my knee and had surgery.  Then, a disc in my neck ruptured, causing excruciating pain and loss of function in my right arm.  I had another surgery.  After recovery from that, Greg and I went to work at an orphanage in Zambia, Africa for a couple of weeks.  The strain of building relationships with many of the children and then leaving them behind was tremendous.  This was intensified dramatically when our process of adopting two of the boys fell through at the last minute.

At nearly the same time as that bitter disappointment, we were betrayed by people we viewed as friends.  Their dishonesty about money fueled their actions.  Before I had time to catch my breath, some significant people in my extended family expressed great contempt for me, using many harsh words.  My lack of value was made crystal clear.  This different kind of sorrow nearly crushed me.

I was almost not surprised when I developed an agonizing pain that pulsed and radiated through the whole left side of my face and front of my head.  Neither dentist nor neurologist could find anything wrong.  I was told I had an incurable nerve disease, dubbed suicide disease.      Four months later, however, it was discovered that a back tooth had cracked, top to bottom, front to back, but it had been held together by an old filling, making it invisible to x-ray and examination.    I was happy to find that all I needed was an oral surgeon.

Throughout it all, we discovered we had a core of friends who valued us and we could trust.  And we were blessed with the addition of a few very important new ones.  All of these relationships flourished and grew stronger.   They put God’s love into action as they nourished our souls with listening ears and kind encouraging words.  God even let us be an encouragement to them.  We were knit together by the simplicity and purity of God’s word.  How fitting it was that an unexpected surprise should come through one of these families.

A year after the face pain had begun, we were told that our family dog would die soon of cancer.  A couple of weeks later, our friends found a four month old stray puppy.  They tried all known methods of finding the owner, especially since she looked like a well bred dog.  She had long, slightly kinky dark merle blue fur.  Her form was reminiscent of both Australian shepherd and golden retriever.  She was intelligent and responsive, seeming to want to please.  I knew immediately that I wanted to take her home.

My husband hesitantly agreed.  He knew my history of fear of dogs.  Plus, I still had four kids that I was teaching at home.  Still, he conceded, with the understanding that she was not his responsibility.

It seemed to me that she was the pet that Melody and I had talked about.  I spent  Melody’s money purchasing equipment and dog food.  Much of it went towards the open wire crate, or indoor kennel.  She was given the name “Kiwi” based on the idea of her being fuzzy on the outside and sweet in the middle.  She was attached to me by a leash when she was active and locked in her kennel for resting.  Since we are home most of the time, we bonded very quickly.  I soon discovered that she would sleep by my bed without leaving all night and wait for permission to get up in the morning.

I researched training methods and blundered through some positive reinforcement techniques before I recognized it as ineffective and silly.   Then I recalled a program an acquaintance had mentioned to me years ago.  This 10 week group class, with it’s daily practice, gave me the tools to deal with every challenging behavior and circumstance.  Once I was established as Kiwi’s primary trainer, the kids also learned to apply the training and have even more fun with her.  Greg even started to have fun with her.

It says in James 1:17 that “Every good gift  and every perfect gift is from above, and come down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.”  (New American Standard Bible) .  Kiwi was the perfect gift for me at the perfect time.  She is not yet perfectly trained, but she was just what I needed.  God specifically arranged for her to come into my life like a hug from heaven, like a breath gently whispering to me in my heartache.  Only He knew how to so beautifully complete Melody’s gift to me.

click here for Scotch Pines Dog Training, Nampa and Boise

to read part 3 click here

One thing that Melody wanted to do before she died was go fishing. The only edible fish potentially biting in February were steelhead.  We knew that she probably only had two days left when she would have enough strength to even step into the boat.  Her dad spent the first day we arrived going to great effort to arrange things.  None of the outfitter boats were going out.  Fish and Game had closed a fish ladder down river, so it wasn’t possible for steelhead to migrate up to our location.  Those that had gotten through earlier were well past us, up river.  Finally, a friend of my dad’s  said he would take them the next day.  Melody’s dad, older brother, and grandfather went.

I have often discussed miracles with my children.  We have pondered that if miracles happened all the time, they wouldn’t be regarded as special.  To prove the point, one could spend countless hours listing “daily miracles” such as seed germination or the phenomena of music.  If something unexpected, or even prayed for, does happen, people are quick to relegate it as coincidence.  That fishing day was a miracle.  Melody caught three large steelhead.  One of them seemed to follow the fishing line into the boat without even being attached to the hook!  All three were caught within a couple of hours.  The boat owner was inspired to go out again the next day, but fished for seven hours without a bite.  God had reminded us of His personal love and attention to the details of our lives.

(Melody and Ben)

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(March 2003)

(Melody on her 13th birthday a year earlier)

Melody died on March 2, 2003 while I was holding her hand.  She was three weeks shy of 14 years old.  Her father, nearly all of her siblings, and my parents were able to be at her bedside.  She had been delusional for a few days, but tried to sing her favorite hymn with us up until the last few moments.  Oxygen was being administered, but as she was struggling her father gently and quietly told her she could take it off if she wanted to.  She reached up and removed the nose prongs.  The death rattle began, but she showed no signs of distress.  She peacefully exited her body as we continued to sing softly.  I let go of the hand.  It was no longer Melody.

If someone has experienced that kind of grief, they probably know what I began to feel at that moment.  The term heartbreak is overused, but how else does one describe the sensation that your chest might split open and it hurts to breath?  It’s not a physical problem, yet it burns and is crushing.   All at once there was relief that her suffering was over and agony at her being so obviously gone.  It  was the soberest of reminders that no one escapes certain truths and there is no real hope after death without Jesus Christ, the only Son of and Way to God.
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After a couple of weeks, the other children presented me with a special gift:  Melody had bequeathed me all of the money in her savings account.  She had also asked each of her other siblings to donate a small amount.  This money was supposed to fund the pet we had talked about me getting one day.  It wasn’t a large amount, but I was so humbled that they had all been thinking of me.  The gift was set aside in a special savings account until it seemed like a better time to pursue that dream.

(to be continued) part 5

to read part 2 click here

(Melody shaves Grandpa)

(Melody and Beth, her next youngest sister)

After 15 months of treatments and the associated complications, the cancer was under control.  We just had to wait and find out if it stayed under control.  We didn’t have  to wait long.  Within two weeks there was evidence of resurgence.  The next three months were spent attacking it, but without success.  We were encouraged to travel to Minnesota for some experimental treatment.  Just after Christmas, the other kids went to live with Grandma and Grandpa for a month.  Greg accompanied Melody and I to that frozen state, got us settled, then went back to work.

Its funny what a person remembers about a time of crisis.  Not surprisingly, I remember spending long hours every other day in a hospital room while Melody received blood transfusions.  All the other days we spent at the clinic for chemotherapy.  I also remember the hospital parking garage stairwell and its echoing cement wall.  That was my exercise.  I can picture myself shopping in the local grocery store in order to prepare meals in the tiny hotel room kitchen.  Melody had not lost her appetite, thankfully.  She enjoyed using some of the time in the evening to bake cookies and English toffee.  I still have the leather gloves that I purchased at a Minnesota Target store because of the hours of driving in the arctic weather.  I also bought little stuffed animals for Melody to crochet clothes onto while she sat attached to tubes and machines.  I was able to crochet a baby blanket.  We spent some time playing card games or singing Veggie Tale songs.  As a cancer patient, she found extra humor in songs like “The Hairbrush  Song” or “His Cheeseburger.”

(Melody in Minnesota)

Near the end of our stay there was the much anticipated trip to The Mall of America.  It had a stressful beginning when Melody tripped on the door frame upon entering the building.  She was too weak to get herself up and too large for me to lift.  She didn’t have hair and was wearing a hospital mask, but otherwise looked generally stout, partly due to her enlarged liver.  The other occupants of that hallway looked on with confusion as Melody crawled to a bench and used it for support to get up.  The words that I was trying to get out to request help were stuck in me, threatening to erupt as incomprehensible sobs.  The day ended up being fun for her, though.  We walked slowly through the tunnels of the huge basement aquarium.  She couldn’t go on the rides in Camp Snoopy, but we enjoyed the atmosphere, studied the expansive Lego creations, and bought baseball caps for everyone in our family.  She browsed in the bead stores and perfected the art of drinking a strawberry smoothie while wearing a mask.  In all, the day was wonderful.  We would be traveling home within a couple of days.
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I had been sensing that we weren’t making any progress killing the cancer.  Her upper abdomen was getting very large due to a stressed liver.  Nose bleeds were very difficult to control.  Her face was getting an aged look.  No one would come right out and say it, but the doctor in Minnesota gave us a guarded opinion of bone marrow transplants followed by orders for Melody to go home.  I wasn’t sure she was even going to be stable enough to get on the airplane.  The medical staff told me they would schedule one more blood transfusion right before our departure.  At the airport, I administered medications into her central venous catheter.  The whole time in the boarding area I paced like a crazy woman.  I knew she was dying and prayed frantically that we would make it home to be with our family.

In the midst of all that God was asking us to trust Him through, He answered that with a ‘yes.’  We met Greg at home, had a final consultation with her original oncologist, and headed for her grandparents’ home.  They lived  in a large, lodge-like house we owned jointly with them.  It was located in the woods in northern Idaho, on a gorgeous 13 acres, but not far from medical support in the nearby town.  Here we could spend some time just being together, punctuated with visits from extended family.  The winter weather was cold and crisp, but sunny.

(to be continued)part 4

For part 1 click here

(Melody in isolation)

I was determined to put my college education to the ultimate use and keep Melody out of the hospital as much as possible.  There were still several periods of hospitalization.  The first was the two weeks when she was first diagnosed.  She needed multiple blood transfusions and the initial chemotherapy.  With some help from various family and friends, she was almost never alone there or in the clinic.  She certainly never spent the night there by herself.

(Melody and her grandparents)

Her brothers and sisters took turns coming along to the necessary lengthy appointments and stints in isolation.  They brought their study materials, books, and games to fill the hours.  I was even able to stay with her in the procedure rooms when the doctors accessed her spinal fluid or took bone marrow samples.  She was obviously comforted by and grateful for all of this.

We spent nearly two years parenting in these circumstances.  Heidi, at 17 years of age, had graduated from high school at home and entered a vocational school full time.  So, Ben, nearly 16 at the beginning of things, maturely accepted extra responsibility.  We continued with teaching Ben, Melody, Beth, Jesse, Natalie, and Carlie at home, which allowed for much needed flexibility, as well as decreasing Melody’s sense of confinement.  Somehow the healthy ones were still able to play soccer and participate in music festivals.  Melody pursued her music by playing the badly out of tune piano on the adult oncology floor where she was usually placed.  It cheered many other patients.  When home, she could attend open air events, such as soccer games.  She would also go on easy walks with the family around the local lake.  And, the doctors okayed her spending as much time as possible with animals and bugs.  They knew that it takes more than prescriptions and extra blood to help a child who has a serious illness.

One complication of her condition was peculiarly related to animals, though.  It began with her developing itchy bumps all over, many of which became small blisters.  Since a cancer patient always goes to the oncologist first, that is what we did.  He was mystified and reasonably chose to send her to a dermatologist.  The dermatologist couldn’t figure anything out in spite of biopsies and cultures.  Melody’s siblings also developed just a few spots, so we all thought it might just be a virus.  Then the break in the case came.  Her two younger sisters returned from spending a few days with their grandparents.  While they had been gone, the “ailment” had disappeared.  Upon arriving home, symptoms showed up again.  That lead the dermatologist to recommend the veterinarian…  for the cats.  It turned out that the cats had microscopic mites that occasionally bite people.  Melody’s compromised immune system caused her to have a more severe reaction.

The final solution was revealed two days before Thanksgiving Day.  First, we treated all fur-bearing pets with insecticide.  Easier said than done.  Then, we bug-bombed the house, put an isolation mask on Melody, and went to the movies!  It was the middle of the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, so most other people were traveling or otherwise preparing.  The theatre was almost empty.  We spent the holiday washing load after load of bedding and clothing.  I managed to eek out a meatloaf for dinner, only realizing belatedly that I might have at least formed it into the shape of a turkey.  The most difficult part of the affair was that Melody was to be restricted from animals for a while.  She understood, but it was sad.

Within a couple of weeks she was back to the usual with animals, especially her cat, Yahtzee.  She had had him since he was born because his mama belonged to us.  At full grown age, he still snuggled awkwardly, but happily, into his baby basket and slept for hours by her side.  He was, however, to be a source of great sorrow and insight for her while she was ill.

Yahtzee developed an encroaching paralysis that began at his hind legs.  We first noticed his walking and jumping were odd.  When it progressed to the point that he couldn’t control his urinary system, the decision was made to “put him down.”  It is not wise to risk that sort of contamination for an immunosuppressed child.  We were not supposed to take Melody into the veterinary office, but the veterinarian accommodated Melody’s situation.  Someone came out to the car to administer the injection to Yahtzee and the beloved kitty died peacefully in her arms.

Strangely, not long before this, Melody began having some sporadic episodes of lack of muscle control.  One day she suddenly began to walk like she was inebriated.  Not only did this happen a few times, but she had occasions when she lost the ability to speak.  Her lips just wouldn’t respond.  She was never distressed emotionally or in pain and was frequently amused by it.  Of course, it was of much more concern to her father and I!  Some impressive worldwide research and evaluation by the doctors discovered the problem.  Melody’s body was one of the extremely rare ones that did not process a primary chemotherapy drug by the normal metabolic pathway.  This resulted in her having unusual waste products circulating in her blood.  These interfered with the nerves sending signals to her muscles.  All she had to do was take a certain cough medicine every day and it was prevented.

(to be continued) part 3

On May 21, 2001, our newly 12 year old daughter, Melody, showed disturbing signs of illness.  She had had a low grade fever the day before and seemed a bit weak.  This day her temperature spiked to 104 degrees Fahrenheit and a thin walled blister, the size of a large pea, appeared on her face.  She had trouble walking up the stairs and a nose bleed was out of control.  It was one of those days imprinted on my mind like a video.  It plays so vividly that I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up and actually be there again.

Being blessed with seven children, five girls and two boys, then ages seventeen to four, I was familiar with dealing with mishaps and illnesses.  My nurse’s training came in handy when faced with things like croup, slices, gashes, and broken bones.  My husband, Greg, and I tried to blend compassion with practical treatment.  Some situations would get the adrenaline going more than others, but that day was different.  It felt ominous and huge.
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Melody loved animals.  Everyone’s pet was given her attention.  Her brothers and sisters found that her involvement always brought a new level of interaction and fun with the animals.  Everything from grasshoppers to goats were enjoyed.  She spent hours drawing insects to the smallest detail.  Her chickens were friends with distinct personalities who were used to being held and petted daily.  Once, her constant supervision enabled a partially lame chick to survive and thrive into adulthood.  Then there was the blind rabbit that she would take out into the lawn.  It wouldn’t start at every little movement like the other rabbits, so became a favorite.  Melody delighted in laying out next to it while it contentedly munched on grass, benefitting from her diligence.  Our dog happily became adept at the army crawl due to extensive training sessions.  Melody’s cat received even more cuddling because it was allowed in the house.  She often asked us to take photographs of her with the animals.  In each picture her eyes sparkle with the joy of the moment.

She inherited this innate ability to be comfortable with animals from her father, not me.  Greg is the kind of man that large dogs come run along side of for companionship when he is on the back roads training for a race.  He doesn’t invite them.  They just come.  Not so with me.  I did some running with my family’s dog when I was in high school.  A violent encounter with a neighborhood dog and the subsequent blood on the pavement instilled a gut-level fear of dogs in me.  As a result, I frequently couldn’t even get out of the car when arriving at a friend’s home if their dog was loose.  Even when we got a cute little ball of a black lab puppy for the kids, fear would try to rise up in my throat when it barked its squeaky bark.  Somehow I convinced it that I was in charge, but other people’s canines still reduced me to jello.

As all of this percolated through our daily lives, it became an interest of Melody’s to discuss with me what sort of pet I would want when I was older.  She could see that as motherhood blossomed in my life, I might be lonely with all of the children grown up and gone.  She studied dog breed books and we both researched availability and cost.  At one point, we thought I might want a bird.  However, being accidentally adopted by a lost cockatiel for a few weeks brought us back to dogs.

Then, May 21st, 2001, occurred.  Three days later Melody was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a cancer of the blood.  Life for our family took on an aching intensity.

(to be continued)

part 2