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The Killing Is Over

At least for now. And no, I don't need a lawyer, good, bad or indifferent.


Took some time off from Hospital, which started at the beginning of this week. Several things needing done here on The Ranch, and also an art show to finish prepping. First priorities though include those things on The Ranch.

As of today, two buck goats and one boar hog are gone to the butcher. We start the process here ourselves, rather than trying to load livestock into a trailer and haul them off. I'd say it is because we raised 'em so it's our responsibility (and it is, all the way across the board). I'd say it is because I am the spendthrift offspring of unmarried parents (and in one sense, I am, even though my parents, actually, were married). In the end, it still comes down to the same thing.

Time to stop storing meat on the hoof, and put it in the freezer.

Some time back, one of the people I worked with at Hospital kept giving me a hard time about this. Finally I asked them were they vegetarian. No, not vegetarian. Since the hard time involved the hogs, I asked then did they just not eat pork. No, really enjoyed bacon and sausage and ham and things.

So. Just a hard time about me doing the killing, then.

Yup.

Thus I wrote a poem. Well, a filksong as well, because it may be sung to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas. And I waited for a bit, for just the right occurrence, which involved a particular surgeon and a particular procedure because this person I worked with then, well that was the stretch of time I did a lot of cardiac surgery. And I wanted the one surgeon to be there because he grew up in Texas, and he's bought our pork. And I wanted the procedure to be a heart transplant, because most of those wait until the wee hours of the night.

And when all the circumstances came together, at 03:00-ish, I nailed co-worker. Surgeon greatly enjoyed the sung version.

I've a ranch called Kumas Playpen southwest of Hoggetowne Creek,
And of its fine fair bounty is what I now shall speak.
There are cows, and goats, and horses, and the chickens are quite big,
But it seems that what we're known for, is mighty tasty pig.

There's a little pig at Playpen that I am going to eat.
Nobody else can cook him, except my darlin' sweet.
She'll roast him on a turnspit for a golden, crackly skin.
And when I've eaten piggie, I'm goin' to eat his kin.

They'll be the star attraction at a Big Ole Barbecue!
That's why they're on the Playpen. It ain't no pettin' zoo.
For chops and ham and sausage, and let's not forget ribs.
But if you just don't eat piggie, well then, we shall roast some kids.

For now, the killing is over. Freezer space will be filled at least partially, and space that's still open is waiting for beef. The Ranch called Kumas Playpen is small, and working, and not a petting zoo. We believe our livestock have rights: a safe environment, a healthy diet, no abuse which includes unnecessary medication of any sort. What they eat on the Ranch is definitely organic, and we pay attention to what we feed to stay away from additives we don't want. We aren't certified as organic growers; we do qualify. Because, without getting into another really bad joke I've spun on a friend, it remains a truth. Happy animals are tasty animals.


And now, with that work done there awaits the finishing up of artwork for the Necronomicon Art Show (link opens in another tab/window). No rest for the weary.

This entry was originally posted at http://madshutterbug.dreamwidth.org/162454.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Comments

( 9 comments — Leave a comment )
dianavilliers
Oct. 11th, 2012 10:19 pm (UTC)
Actually, that is something I'm curious about - why are these surgeries done at stupid-o'clock in the morning?
madshutterbug
Oct. 11th, 2012 10:41 pm (UTC)
I don't think it is a simple answer, nor is it highly complicated.

Often it is hard for a family to come to terms with death in the instances where organ donation is possible. Many organs may be donated 'living related' (since family is often the closest match for a recipient). By definition, a heart must come from a deceased individual, maintained on life support yet deemed brain dead, meaning if life support is withdrawn, the portions of the brain which drive respiration, ventilation, and cardiac function are non-functional. Also, an EEG may be obtained demonstrating that other brain activity is also totally absent.

So, families may require time to agree that first of all, their loved one is indeed dead.

Since the donor body is being maintained by life support, there is often, then, time to make all the arrangements for where donated organs will be going. The strictest time limits are for hearts. Four hours ischemic time (no oxygen perfusion to the tissues). Thus, transport time from donation site to recipient site is preferably minimal and less than one hour. This provides leeway time on the recipient end, in the event of complications.

Surgical theatre time is expensive; you've recently experienced this. The number of patients needing surgery is... well, I'm not likely to be running out of work soon. Since we can usually work with life support until the surgical theatre is less busy, and the arrangements for recipients is time consuming anyway... getting the OR schedule done makes it easier to get the donor into the theatre. Late in the day.

Not all heart transplants are done in the wee hours. A lot are, however. Often it all comes together in such a manner that 'normal operating hours' are when things happen. However, that time limit makes the transplant a far more urgent procedure than something classified Elective, needs to be done yet with no high urgency. Some patient then, during 'normal operating hours', gets 'bumped' as in their surgery is rescheduled.

Doing them in the wee hours decreases that rescheduling.

Edited at 2012-10-11 10:42 pm (UTC)
dianavilliers
Oct. 11th, 2012 11:02 pm (UTC)
Thanks for the explanation. I've wondered, since I don't do my best work at 3am, and I was thinking about the surgical team being on form at those hours.

I've experienced surgery, yes, but not the direct cost of surgery. All up, my total expenses from start to finish including the initial consultation with my GP, taxis to the hospital and followup appointments where I couldn't use my scooter or take the bus, and the pain medication I took home with me was on the order of $NZ100. Negligible, and if I were on a low income, it would have been subsidised even further.

I pay approximately 30% of my income in tax (including GST(sales)taxes) and don't need to concern myself with the accounting beyond that.
rosewildeirish
Oct. 12th, 2012 12:12 am (UTC)
I've never understood why people would have a problem with farmers when they eat the products. As for me, I'm just glad for people like you, because I think I'd have to change who I am to do such myself.

Not that I think it's impossible. But I think I'd have to modify my own thinking and worldview. And because I don't have to?

I'm grateful to those of you who do the deed.

So, in short, thank you.
starcat_jewel
Oct. 12th, 2012 01:47 am (UTC)
Bon appetit!
i_amsherlocked
Oct. 12th, 2012 07:27 am (UTC)
we have happy animals too, especially our chickens, but I only eat their eggs, lol!
(Deleted comment)
madshutterbug
Oct. 12th, 2012 09:31 pm (UTC)
I do my best in that regard. A quick and easy death to end the otherwise (hopefully) happy life and complete the circle. Which in some instances may seem like (pun intended) overkill. However, those tales are for face-to-face in person telling, not blogging.
thenanerbananer
Oct. 15th, 2012 05:02 pm (UTC)
Mmmmmmmmmmm pork Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

From one farmer (although I deal in potatoes, not pigs), thank you for being a good steward of the Earth's bounty. I wish more people truly understood from where their food originates.
( 9 comments — Leave a comment )

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