Two of my ferrets were having a hard time adjusting to the Daylight Savings
Time schedule.  They had been out 4 times for several hours each time but
were wide awake at 11:45pm.  I had already crawled into bed but wasn't
asleep.  I relinquished to their demands to be let out again.  I had just
sat down on the sofa to read when I heard a ferret scream extremely loudly
twice.  I could hear struggling.  I ran into the hallway.  Captain was
laying there, not moving, and a board was on top of him.  I picked up the
board.  He was motionless but awake.
 
I carefully picked him up and held him next to me for several minutes.  He
didn't move - which was totally unlike Captain.  I put him on the floor to
observe him.  The only thing he moved was his eyelids.  I slowly rolled him
over.  He was a limp rag.  I held him for a few more minutes.  There was no
movement.  I remember a friend telling me about the need to get steroids
into a ferret immediately after an accident to have the best possible
outcome.  I ran to the bedroom and put him on the bed while I dressed.
When he got the dry heaves, the only movement was in response to the
vomiting.  Based on the noise I had heard, I envisioned that the board had
trapped him against the wall and he had struggled to free himself.  I
feared his back was broken.
 
I called the emergency clinic to tell them I would be there in about 45
minutes.  I carefully put Captain in a small carrier and left, grabbing
some tissues as I walked out the door.  It was a long time to think about
how Captain was my most loving, affectionate, and human-oriented ferret (I
can't use the word "favorite" for fear of a mutiny here).  He was always
underfoot begging for attention.  I have seen two paraplegic ferrets and
didn't like the thought of Captain being like them.  Guilt weighed heavily
on my mind for leaving the board out after I was done with it.
 
The tech immediately took Captain to the back for the vet to examine.  By
this time Captain was lifting up his head.  The tech at the front desk took
the information about the accident and relayed it to the vet.  I was not
able to focus on anything during the wait .
 
After what seemed like an eternity, we were called into an exam room "so
the doctor can tell you what she found." I tried to hold back the tears.
Several tense minutes later, the doctor came in with Captain.  He was
alertly sitting on the edge of the hammock wondering what all the attention
was about.  The vet said she could find absolutely nothing wrong with him.
I lost it at that point.  It seems Captain was scared almost to death by
the featherweight fiberboard falling on him (it literally weighs just a
couple of ounces).  He had developed legs o' Jello and simply couldn't
walk (I had that same thing happen once when I was almost killed in a car
accident so I knew what he was experiencing).
 
I gently picked up Captain and hugged him.  But he wanted no part of that.
He was someplace new and that meant that he needed to explore....
 
[FW]
[Posted in FML issue 2638]