Flight Plan Goes Awry

by Dr Susan Orosz

Susan E. Orosz, Ph.D., D.V.M., Diplomate ABVP, Avian Practice, Diplomate, European College of Avian Medicine and Surgery, Professor. Dr. Orosz is a Professor at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, specializing in Avian Medicine

They arrived carrying a cardboard box, their faces etched in worry. The retired couple had called on Sunday evening, but it was now Monday morning.

They had been busy Sunday evening cooking dinner when the accident occurred. The husband was playing with their beloved yellow cockatiel, Ariel, by the dinner table. Suddenly, Ariel went aerial and flew to "mom," who was busy cooking pasta on the stove. Unfortunately, cockatiels are not the most agile flyers, and Ariel missed mom’s shoulder completely and landed instead in the boiling pasta pot on the stove! Mrs. Hennigan quickly scooped Ariel from the boiling cauldron, but not fast enough for damage to occur. The Hennigans were panicked when they called the veterinary hospital that evening. For reasons that are not clear, they waited until morning to bring Ariel, who was nestled within the cardboard box.

We had no idea what to expect when we carefully opened the lid. Inside was a very fluffed cockatiel, with eyes closed and bright pink and painful feet. Further inspection revealed that Ariel had burned her corneas, most likely from the steam, as well as her legs. The skin was already beginning to peel from her feet and legs. By her head shaking and the results of a sinus flush, we also thought the hot water or steam penetrated into her very large sinus system within her skull. The sinuses were clearly burned.

I spent a good portion of the morning discussing her various problems and my concerns with other veterinary specialists—from veterinary ophthalmologists to surgeons that deal with trauma. We would need to bide our time while trying to get her skin and her corneas to heal. It would be tough to stay ahead of infection, which often leads to systemic disease and death. Our plan of action also needed to incorporate the financial considerations of the owners. Mrs. Hennigan agreed to act as the nurse, while Mr. Hennigan would drive Ariel back and forth from the veterinary hospital as often as was needed.

In formulating the plan, I kept thinking about my aloe plant sitting on the back deck that had helped my family through a series of sunburns. I knew the material from the plant would be more helpful than sunburn jellies and I could actually incorporate it into a dressing for her legs. I drove home, cut several stems from our plant, and returned to the veterinary hospital. There, I cut the thick stems into strips so that we could wrap them around the feet and legs. I packaged bandages, antibiotics, antifungal drugs, my aloe plant strips, and painkillers in bags, and presented these to the Hennigans, along with a long set of instructions. With the bags, the list, and Ariel in hand, the Hennigans went home.

When the Hennigans arrived 2 days later, the cardboard box had now transformed into a well designed hospital cage. While it had been difficult for her to open Ariel’s eyes to give drops of ophthalmic medicine, Mrs. Hennigan had done so carefully and tenderly. (So much so that we began to have hope for Ariel’s corneas as she opened one eye.) We removed the bandages to find the legs less pink and decided that Ariel was less stressed with them off. In addition, it would be easier for Mrs. Hennigan to apply aloe to her legs. These positive signs were balanced against a white discharge from Ariel’s nostrils. The culture results showed that we needed to change our antimicrobial plan for her sinuses.

On the Hennigan’s third visit, I remarked about how nicely the cardboard box had become a regulation hospital cage. The comment drew the Hennigan’s first smile, the first crack in the veneer of worry. Maybe it was because Ariel had opened both eyes or the fact that there was a slight hint of hope in my voice today. But at least there was a crack. Over the next month of ups and downs, Ariel and the Hennigans fought on. So did my aloe plant, despite frequent cuttings. I guess we were in the battle together, and in the end, Ariel survived. Not only did she survive, she thrived. While all the skin on her feet and legs had once sloughed off, you couldn’t tell it now. Her sinuses healed and, remarkably, Ariel could see. Her corneas didn’t even show the white marks of a scar! And on top of that, my aloe plant began to sprout new branches.

Copyright 1999 Susan Orosz