The continuing story of Su's animals and what they mean to her.

November 23:

Perhaps we should get some hens to keep Violet the "orphaned" duck company, then, we always used to keep hens? But hens can be notoriously fierce with their sharp beaks and often squabble with each other, pecking and pulling out each other's feathers, especially if one of them doesn't seem normal, or is weak.

Oh dear, what then? The germ of an idea popped into my head. We would buy one white hen to match the duck (well, some of her was white by now) and then they wouldn't look too different and if there was only the two of them would they really know that one was different from the other.

After all, they can't look at themselves in a mirror, so looking at each other wouldn't they think they were both the same? Alan is used to my insane thinking and we picked out a white Fenning Sussex, instantly named her April and took her home. Would this work?

It was a lovely sunny day. Violet was wandering around looking lonely and slightly dejected, but much better when without further ado we popped April into the pen. They were both the same size, April being on point of lay, and there was no hesitation at all in greeting each other.

We were worried that April with her beady eye and sharp beak might just give poor old Violet a quick welcoming peck. April looked at the mixed plumage of the duck, yellow beaked and blue eyed and still with violet tail feathers and wing tips and Violet looked at April with her magnificent white plumage and black collar feathers and black tipped tail and there was an instant rapport.

A couple of oddballs in each other's eyes, they looked each other up and down for some time before Violet wandered off to the pool and April followed. The friendship was set. Where one went, the other would follow. When Violet got in the pool to swim, April would cluck worryingly around the rim shouting in henspeak: "What on earth are you doing in there?" and try to drink the pool dry in an effort to stop her friend drowning.

Websites I have found useful:
Breast Cancer Care
Cancerhelp.org (the patient information website of Cancer Research UK)
Netdoctor.co.uk
Scarf Studio (scarfs and bandanas)

Violet would playfully splash April with a "come on in, the water's lovely" quack. April scratched the ground and Violet ate the worms. I'm sure April wondered where they were all going! When one laid an egg the other would inspect it with great pleasure and enthusiasm.

Violet would deposit a wonderfully huge white egg quietly somewhere around the pen and April would declare the treasure hers and cluck loudly. April laid hers in the box, which fascinated Violet who would sit on them comfortably for a long time if you let her. Came the day Violet went broody she would not let us near her to collect any eggs at all. Forgetting we had saved her life she would peck hard and hiss loudly. She was very determined indeed!

Time for action. We bought three fertile eggs and spirited away the ones she was sitting on, replacing them with the precious three. April was curious and slightly jealous and maybe annoyed that she couldn't get into her favourite nest box to lay her eggs, despite there being another box free. She also wanted to help Violet.

Every day April would get into the box with violet and lay an egg, Violet would gather this underneath her to tuck in with her three (it took some retrieving, I can tell you). Once the egg was in situ, April would then sit on top of Violet in her capacity as stand-in mother. It was hilarious and we have pictures to prove it but of course the upshot was that between the weight of the two of them, both pretty big and healthy by now, they managed to crush the eggs! No babies for us, then.

Where one went, the other was glued alongside. April would joyously fly out of the henhouse each morning and Violet would waddle, quacking all the way, with her tail importantly bobbing from side to side. Violet bathed, April drank, April scratched, Violet ate, they were like Morecambe and Wise, Ant and Dec, Cannon and Ball.

The comedy was endlessly entertaining and the joy of Violet with her new friend was worth all of it. Their differences became the glue between them and their faith in each other was total to the last. I am so glad they had such a lovely life, but so sad that just when things were going so well for them both such an awful thing happened with that second fox attack I told you all about in my earlier entries.

Somehow, it all seemed a bit like my life at the moment and coming right back to the point now, that, I think is why I want to cry.

I am wrenched out of my mental meanderings by a lot of jubilant shouting from the desk. "Susan, your blood is up – we can go ahead." Flora and Nicky are both signing thumbs up and grinning from ear to ear! I am instantly relieved. Must have been all that "pigging out" I worked so hard on at the buffet. Whatever, we're off and Flora comes along with the tablets. "I'm not having those," I say, rather ungraciously, "Dr Ah See said I didn't need to take them."

I can almost feel myself pouting and want to add: "So there." Flora looks at the notes, goes away and comes back with a syringe or two full of clear fluids.

"What's that?" I ask suspiciously as she plunges it into the canula – at least it doesn't hurt – "liquid steroids," she says, "you have to have these, I'm afraid, but you won't have to have any more after this".

While the fluid is going in I suddenly become aware that my knickers are horribly uncomfortable. They feel like someone has filled then with horsehair and I want to start "adjusting" them! I am trying not to wriggle around too much, thinking this is not very polite and I can't suddenly jump up and start pinging my knicker elastic around, can I, what on earth can be the matter?

Flora has noticed my uncomfortable wriggling and asks if everything is OK. "Fine," I say, I mean you can hardly divulge the fact that your nether regions have started to feel like they are full of iron filings, can you?

"Actually," I say, in a whisper, "I've got a very funny feeling...well, in my privates, you know. "Good," says Flora, "that's the answer I was expecting." Well, she could have said. I ask why that happens. "No idea," says Flora, "it just seems to, but not with everyone."
That would be just me, then!

The rest of the treatment goes through without any further problems, less red fluid than usual and some anti-sickness tablets to take home (they won't work and only make me sick) and I am out by just after lunchtime.

Hungry, thirsty, relieved that the fifth chemo session is over and slightly tearful, but pleased with myself for now. Later, I am sick as usual (said they wouldn't work) but I do not suffer so much mental anguish this time and pull out of it a day earlier than normal, Wednesday rather than Thursday and although I feel sicker for longer (it is more nauseous than sick), I think in all the "tweaked" meds have worked better.

When I am well again (and I will be!) we will think about getting some more poultry to keep with a better hen house and fox-proof run. Things will be fine.

Part 44 next week

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