jmgoyder

Son and I just got home (it’s nearly 6pm in Western Australia) from our second day of medical appointments in Perth, to find Buttons, the weiro, dead in the toilet. As Buttons has always had plenty of water, he has never ventured into this tiny room at the end of the enclosed veranda before (the door to which is usually shut anyway – oh why did I leave it open today?)

I should have put him in his cage for the day. I should have closed the door to this little bathroom he’s never ventured into. I’m an idiot and absolutely grief-stricken by the loss of this tiniest of all our birds – but a bird with the biggest personality.

This is one of the hardest things about having birds, watching birds and loving birds – the inevitability of loss, because of their vulnerability and unpredictability. I am beginning to wonder how, and why, the incredible (and mutual) joy of the birds has been punctuated by grief over and over again for me, for us.

Yesterday and today, Son and I learned some scary things about his scoliosis surgery on the 14th. The nurse, physiotherapist, doctor, aneasthetist, respiratory specialist, radiologist etc. etc. filled us in on some of the minor details the surgeon hadn’t mentioned. For example, he will need bone from the bone bank, blood from the blood bank, his 74% curve can’t be surgically corrected to equal perfectly straight, the pain will be severe for two or three days, he might have to go into another hospital for rehab., there is a slight risk of paralysis etc. etc. All of this is fine with Son who can’t wait to be straightened but, for me, the fear lurks behind the anticipation of Son being ‘fixed’.

Son just rang Husband in the nursing lodge to tell him about our appointments today, and about Buttons.

I am going outside to put the gang away.