Mona and her miracle eye

Something happened to Mona’s eye and it hurts me to think about it, so it’s taken a while to write this.

We don’t know exactly why, but Mona had a serious eye issue. It could have been that she got pushed up against a sharp piece of the fence and didn’t see where she was because of her floppy crown, and Bill is quietly beating himself up over that. Or, she could have gotten an infection. We don’t know.

One morning I said, “Mona’s gotten into something wet or greasy because her neck is all gooey.” I didn’t figure it out until later in the day when I caught a glimpse of her eye. It was awful. She’d been rubbing her face on her neck.

We caught her to observe the injury. Without a degree in Chickenology, we weren’t sure of our next step. Bill said, “Well, do you want to take her to the vet?” I knew this would cost more than $200; we just took our ferret to the vet for a routine this and that and it was $143.
Mona cost $18.

We decided we would monitor the situation. It got worse, and that’s when we decided to lance her eye, with the help of some advice from the folks at the feed store and some medications. We sent up a prayer to Robbie, our good friend and our family Grandpa who passed away last year. He was a practicing veterinarian for many years and gave Bill the most amazing garage tools, but he also gave him his remaining vet utensils. We loved the little boxes and labels, but we never imagined we would use any of them.

Bill sterilized a #10 scalpel, and we assembled our items: latex gloves, saline solution, the antibiotic ointment, and a soft bath towel. Then we had a drink. The idea of cutting open an eye, our moaning Mona’s eye, was just a little unnerving.

We chose the end of the day, Bill’s idea, so that there would be no chickeny distractions (food, another chicken, more food, something she’s missing). I set up the operating room—two lawn chairs, one a little lower than the other, and went to visit Mona. My son was concerned. He was thinking this kind of thing must be against the law and just couldn't watch, but couldn't leave us alone, either. He was all over the operation, flailing his arms and adding commentary. This was not the best scenario for a doctor's steady hand. Or even an airplane mechanic pretending to be a doctor.

As soon as Bill touched her eye, the area opened up and revealed a nasty, marble-sized hard piece of hurt that popped out, followed by what I thought was a lot of blood, for a chicken. Then Bill cut away some tissue and what we thought for certain was her eye.

We cleaned the area and pumped it full of our medication. She no longer moved her feet or tried to get out of my grip. I dabbed and waited. After a few minutes, I moved her back up to her roost and even though she was a little wobbly, she was able to wrap her toes around the pole.
We talked a lot about Mona that night, and sure hoped to see her in the yard the next morning.

We did! We watched the eye area closely and to our amazement, her eyelid opened after a few days to reveal her eye! She can’t see out of it and misses out on a treat if she’s facing the wrong way, but we are thankful that she’s still with us. She gives us a petite egg almost every day.