This afternoon, while innocently (shut up, Rooster) walking out to the railroad to do some track maintenance, I was attacked by our rooster. (I said, shut up, Rooster, I don’t wanna hear it)! As I walked past the hot tub, minding my own business, I was suddenly accosted by a demon spawn that hit my chest, knocking me off balance, and then tripping me, so I fell to my hands and knees. Then the sumb1tch used his talons on my head, causing several abrasions, and one deep laceration and hematoma.
Using muscle memory attained 50 years ago during seemingly endless football agility drills, I scrambled to my feet, and got in the first of several well aimed kicks. We circled each other like two cocks in the ring. I swear that his eyes were bloodshot with hate. I know that mine were.
My lovely bride, becoming aware of some commotion in the yard, came to the door, saw what was happening, and started laughing. I’m engaged in mortal combat, and she’s laughing? What is wrong with this picture. Finally, she sees blood running down my face, and covering my shirt, and some semblance of concern taints her voice. “Steven, you’re bleeding, get your ass in here, leave that damn chicken alone for now.”. She has such a wonderful way of showing how much she loves me.
She takes me into the bathroom, which doubles as Mom’s Surgery in everybody’s home, and proceeds to tend my wounds. By this time, the fight or flight syndrome has worn off, and so has the adrenaline, and I’m starting to hurt. Those talons are wicked, and getting sacked by a rooster (don’t even) in full flight ain’t no fun. She is draining the hematoma, encouraging bleeding to clean the wound, asks me if I think I need to go to the doctor. “Huh?” says I, being in full command of my faculties. “Do you think you need to go to the doctor?” Oh, great. My doc is a former Flight Surgeon. Those guys are about as bent as Navy Corpsmen. "Yeah, that cut needs to be flushed out, I need to go see him, who knows what that rooster has been walking in. Rats. That’s not what I really said, that’s all Bob will allow me to say.
So, we get to the doc’s office, he asks what happened, “I went one on one with a rooster.” After he picks himself off the floor from laughing so hard, he asks if its OK if his PA Student does an evaluation. Sure, no problem. In walks a guy with an unmistakable swagger. "Hi, I’m _______, a PA Student, I used to be a Navy Corpsman, two tours in Afghanistan. It turns out that we are veterans of the same Battalions, fourty years apart, but that counts for naught, once lies begin to be swapped. Lovely bride’s eyes roll back into her head.
So, I end up with one suture, a tetanus shot, and a black eye. In true Navy Medicine tradition, as I’m walking out of the clinic, the PA Student, former Navy Corpsman tells me to keep hydrated, take two Motrin, don’t forget to change my socks, and wear an overcoat. “Thanks, Doc.”
I still have to do that track maintenance.
