Chapter Two – Lana

The small calf learnt to suckle from the stiff rubber teat of its bottle quickly and began to show a slight improvement to her frailty, but she remained weak and vulnerable. Each day was another day to survive and although each morning was a victory, we both felt that the following twenty four hours would be her last.

Tentatively we increased her goals, initially it was for her to survive twenty four hours at a time, then it became to the end of each week, we then felt that if only we could get her to Christmas and if we managed that then to the spring when she could get fresh air into her lungs. Each wishful goal seemed overly optimistic but just as every thousand mile walk starts with the first step, we tried as best as we could to focus on the now, on the moment.

Life in the garage was far from ideal for the calf. We were acutely aware that in addition to her ailments, the most likely other cause of her passing away would be pneumonia. Without a mum to cuddle she was vulnerable to the cold – hence why she was inside with straw and duvets over the bars of her pen, but the garage was also prone to heavy condensation with the cold and rain becoming more prevalent. That condensation could so easily go onto her lungs and cause her irreparable damage. Thus, at night the garage would be closed to ward against the worst cold, in the day, if the weather would allow the door would be up to allow the air to circulate and should fortune be on her side, for the sun to throw some warmth on her hide.

Not long after she had joined us we shared the story of our youngest resident on Facebook so that her journey and our journey with her could be appreciated by all our followers. The response to her fight for life was incredible, immediately she grabbed the hearts of all those that watched her short videos and saw her photos. One that was particularly taken with her plight was a good friend of mine named Lynne Steele. Lynne is in her own way an absolute force of nature, one of those truly dependable, honest, straight talking people who I adore. If she has something to tell you, good or bad, she will tell it as it is, you always know where you stand with Lynne. She runs an incredibly successful theatre production company called LMS Worldwide whose jewel in the crown is The Roy Orbison Story starring her husband Barry Steele. Barry has been regarded as the top Roy Orbison tribute in the UK for at least the last twenty or so years.

I had a call from Lynne one particularly cold late October morning in which she gave me an offer I was incredibly grateful for and which I couldn’t possibly refuse. She said that if I were to name the calf Lana (after that wonderful Roy Orbison hit) then her company and in particular her new show, The Class of 55 (which I had actually been signed up for to play rock n roll piano wildman Jerry Lee Lewis), would sponsor her, initially with a £100 donation and then in due course subsequent donations. Naturally my decision making didn’t even take a nanosecond and Lana was duly named, and the support that Lynne, LMS Worldwide and The Class of 55 have subsequently given to her welfare has been phenomenal, something which I have appreciated more than can be elucidated.

Lana’s name fit the calf to a tee, it’s a beautiful song, and she was a beautiful being, Kelly didn’t need any convincing either – especially when I reminded her of the record, and it almost felt that as soon as we started calling her by her new name, Lana recognised it and responded to it.

It seems generally in life that when you start to relax, when you start to assume the worst is over and that maybe you are heading to safety, then that Imminent Will raises its head and puts the wind up you.

Lana seemed to be getting stronger day by day. She was now drinking her thrice daily bottle readily and would stand up when she heard the side door open signifying that she had visitors.

Then one morning I went into the garage and she wasn’t in her pen. I was immediately filled with fear and confusion. Where could she be? How could she not be in her pen? What was going on? Then I saw her, looking dazed, shaky on her feet and clearly confused. Quite simply she was the other side of the hurdles. Somehow she had jumped over the four foot high barrier.

My relief was immediate and my conclusion was exactly that she must be getting stronger and had actually leaped over the hurdles in an energetic attempt at exploration. I opened up the pen and led her back in all the time talking to her gently and soothingly. I then strapped another hurdle to each of the ones in situ to make a higher barrier and went in to tell Kelly, quietly laughing to myself at how well Lana was doing and what a mischief she was clearly going to be.

The lightness of mood didn’t stay for long. Having told Kelly about the adventure Lana had had I went off to feed the rest of the animals. Ten or so minutes later I heard Kelly yelling my name with panic filling her voice. I turned, dropped the scoop of chicken pellets and started racing back to the house.

‘She’s dying, she’s dying’ Kelly screamed at me as I got to the garden gate, tears pouring from her eyes, ‘Lana’s dying, she’s dying.’

I didn’t wait for an explanation and ran straight back into the garage that I had left in such light spirits a few minutes previously now with terror and sickness in my stomach. Lana was on her side in the straw of her pen, her back legs kicking out in spasm, crashing against the metal of the hurdles. Without wasting a second I jumped over the bars to be with the calf and, trying to avoid being pollaxed by one of her flailing legs, I got onto the floor with her and held her head in my arms, trying to calm her and calm the seizure.

It seemed like an age that I held her and talked to her gently and as calmly as I was able. In my heart I knew she was dying and that we were losing her, but if that were the case I wanted her to leave us knowing that she was surrounded by love. Then suddenly she calmed. The legs stopped kicking out, her breathing began to ease, her heart stopped racing and the froth stopped pouring from her mouth. We hadn’t lost her, but we knew that this was a dreadful, dreadful sign. We knew, had been told, that because of the vitamin deficiency there would undoubtedly be issues for Lana that weren’t as immediately apparent as her blindness, partial deafness and lack of a tail. This seizure was the threat we had hoped that we had avoided, a swelling on the brain that would more than likely bring her to a premature end. Even when you think you are prepared for the worst situation, even when you pragmatically heed everyone’s pessimistic, realistic words, deep inside you don’t really accept it and you hold onto a wish, a hope, that things can be better, or at least not worse.

The vet gave Lana an injection, a vitamin boost that he wasn’t overly excited about but felt that it may help. He felt that ultimately nature would exact whatever it was going to exact. She may grow out of the seizures. She may have one so bad that it would kill her. The best advice that he had to give was should she be having a seizure to try and stay clear of her kicking leg. It wasn’t the most helpful of advice, nor was it the most optimistic. He concluded that very few calves live long with her condition, certainly not to adulthood, and on the rare occasion that they did live to adulthood they wouldn’t live long then, and if they did then it would be a lonely existence ….. ultimately the kinder thing was …..

We never saw that particular vet again. We now have a wonderful vet practice who are filled with sensitive, caring, yet practical practioners who have only advised the last resort as the very last resort.

Lana continued to have seizures, some greater than others and each time we thought it would be her last, but when we were with her when she was having one we would stay close, comfort her and try to calm her. We believed that we soothed her and made her episodes less traumatic, though of course we could have been being fanciful and kind to ourselves. Ultimately it became a common and not unusual occurrence, every few days a back leg would kick out and she would be in the throws of a torment.