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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2pNoyiV
So, Chicken Day. (We process chickens every two weeks from late May to the end of October. There’s one more chicken day left after this one. Then it’s Turkey Purgatory forever. We have so many turkeys.)
Last Chicken Day, two weeks ago, I suffered terribly from my stupid left hip. It started off twingey and by the end of the day I was like, incoherent with the pain. It was awful and embarrassing.
This morning I packed myself a little bag– clean clothes, that sort of thing, and also my container of ibuprofen. Because I wasn’t doing that again. First big twinge, I was gonna medicate. (Ibuprofen helps the hip a lot.)
There were some twinges yesterday; the Monday before Chicken Day is always a heavy workday, and this was no exception. Lots of standing on hard concrete. This morning I was having a few twinges too, but I figured I could probably make it through until lunch.
cut for length, but tl;dr I discovered the World’s Absolutely Stupidest Cure for a dodgy hip.
After we finished setting up, but before the delegation who’d gone up to the pasture to retrieve the chickens returned, I ran inside to turn on the crock pot that was making lunch. This would be better with some sage, I decided, so I dashed back out the door to go to the herb garden in front of the house, to pick a few leaves of sage.
I stepped off the porch, and into a pile of leaves, and onto a tree branch that was hidden there. This made my foot twist, and my ankle went, snappop! and I landed very suddenly on the ground.
This, I thought to myself, very seriously, is extremely stupid and I will not be having it. Out loud I said, even though no one was there, “I’m fine. I’m fine! This is fine.”
I stood up, and put my weight very carefully onto my right ankle. It hurt like a bitch, but it was physically able to support me.
“This is fine,” I said, and went to the little fence in the yard. This was the test: could I stand on one foot to get over it?
With difficulty, but yes. So I did. I went, I picked some sage, I walked, very slowly, back into the house, and put the sage in the pot, and stood on one foot while I got the crock pot set up and transferred the stew into it.
“This sucks,” I said to myself, as I sat down at the kitchen table for a moment. My ankles were not visibly different. Oh, the right one was already starting to swell a little. But only a little!
Outside, the tractor had arrived with the chickens, and Pete the plucker guy had gotten out of his car, and it was about to all get started.
Nothing for it: I jammed my feet into my boots, very carefully, and walked, very slowly, out to the barn.
We went fast; we’d sold 32 of the birds, live, to another farm who was hosting a workshop and whose chickens they’d raised for the workshop had completely failed to adequately size up in time. And we didn’t have anyone else’s chickens to work on. And we had the whole regular crew, and everyone knew their jobs, and we just flew through the birds– 75 per hour, and we were done before 11 am.
Thank fuck.
The stew wasn’t done, though. It in fact wasn’t done by noon. We had it for dinner. Fortunately, Veg Manager was happy enough to go inside and throw together a frittata, since he’d missed his normal cooking day on Monday.
I took another handful of ibuprofen, and found an Ace Bandage and wrapped my ankle, and went back out.
Packaging also went smoothly, and we were done before 3. We moved on and did other things– I washed and packaged eggs, and intensively cleaned some things we’d sort of been making do with, and so on.
But I came back inside and took a shower at 3pm, and then put my leg up with some ice.
My hip never twinged a bit. I guess the answer is that I need to just stand on that leg exclusively.
(Your picture was not posted)
So, Chicken Day. (We process chickens every two weeks from late May to the end of October. There’s one more chicken day left after this one. Then it’s Turkey Purgatory forever. We have so many turkeys.)
Last Chicken Day, two weeks ago, I suffered terribly from my stupid left hip. It started off twingey and by the end of the day I was like, incoherent with the pain. It was awful and embarrassing.
This morning I packed myself a little bag– clean clothes, that sort of thing, and also my container of ibuprofen. Because I wasn’t doing that again. First big twinge, I was gonna medicate. (Ibuprofen helps the hip a lot.)
There were some twinges yesterday; the Monday before Chicken Day is always a heavy workday, and this was no exception. Lots of standing on hard concrete. This morning I was having a few twinges too, but I figured I could probably make it through until lunch.
cut for length, but tl;dr I discovered the World’s Absolutely Stupidest Cure for a dodgy hip.
After we finished setting up, but before the delegation who’d gone up to the pasture to retrieve the chickens returned, I ran inside to turn on the crock pot that was making lunch. This would be better with some sage, I decided, so I dashed back out the door to go to the herb garden in front of the house, to pick a few leaves of sage.
I stepped off the porch, and into a pile of leaves, and onto a tree branch that was hidden there. This made my foot twist, and my ankle went, snappop! and I landed very suddenly on the ground.
This, I thought to myself, very seriously, is extremely stupid and I will not be having it. Out loud I said, even though no one was there, “I’m fine. I’m fine! This is fine.”
I stood up, and put my weight very carefully onto my right ankle. It hurt like a bitch, but it was physically able to support me.
“This is fine,” I said, and went to the little fence in the yard. This was the test: could I stand on one foot to get over it?
With difficulty, but yes. So I did. I went, I picked some sage, I walked, very slowly, back into the house, and put the sage in the pot, and stood on one foot while I got the crock pot set up and transferred the stew into it.
“This sucks,” I said to myself, as I sat down at the kitchen table for a moment. My ankles were not visibly different. Oh, the right one was already starting to swell a little. But only a little!
Outside, the tractor had arrived with the chickens, and Pete the plucker guy had gotten out of his car, and it was about to all get started.
Nothing for it: I jammed my feet into my boots, very carefully, and walked, very slowly, out to the barn.
We went fast; we’d sold 32 of the birds, live, to another farm who was hosting a workshop and whose chickens they’d raised for the workshop had completely failed to adequately size up in time. And we didn’t have anyone else’s chickens to work on. And we had the whole regular crew, and everyone knew their jobs, and we just flew through the birds– 75 per hour, and we were done before 11 am.
Thank fuck.
The stew wasn’t done, though. It in fact wasn’t done by noon. We had it for dinner. Fortunately, Veg Manager was happy enough to go inside and throw together a frittata, since he’d missed his normal cooking day on Monday.
I took another handful of ibuprofen, and found an Ace Bandage and wrapped my ankle, and went back out.
Packaging also went smoothly, and we were done before 3. We moved on and did other things– I washed and packaged eggs, and intensively cleaned some things we’d sort of been making do with, and so on.
But I came back inside and took a shower at 3pm, and then put my leg up with some ice.
My hip never twinged a bit. I guess the answer is that I need to just stand on that leg exclusively.
(Your picture was not posted)
