We’re short of tortoise-themed content, so Stephen McGlynn scrapes the barrel and tells you about the time he almost killed Manny.
When I started at Regent’s, my friends joked that the worst thing I could do – far worse than leading the College to financial ruin or accidentally burning down Gould and Angus – would be losing Emmanuelle. A job of a “Domestic Bursar” (the Oxford speak for my role) isn’t an easy one: a colleague often tells me that it’s my job to be hated, as I juggle the complex and competing needs of a diverse range of stakeholders (can you tell I’m job-hunting right now?). Little did I know, in April 2018, that one of my most difficult decisions during my time at Regent’s was just around the corner.
For a period of several weeks, Manny had refused to eat. We’d tried everything, including her usual favourites of strawberries, bananas and dandelions, but Manny can be stubborn when she needs to be, and wasn’t having any of it. She seemed weak and moved very little, only slowly making her way into dark corners away from the hustle and bustle of the Quad.
It was time for a visit to the vets. Bob took Manny to Chipping Norton (at a speed far above that she’s used to!) so that we could find out if anything was wrong. Things didn’t look good and Manny was admitted overnight and stayed in for the best part of a week. They tried their best to feed her so that she would find the strength to fight off whatever she was battling.
Later that week, Bob and I went to visit Manny in the animal hospital. We were warned over the phone to prepare for the worst. We’d already ordered Manny a wide array of tests, making sure she got the very best care – but the blood tests, X-rays and ultrasounds all failed to show anything unusual. She still wasn’t eating. We were reminded that she was an “elderly lady” and that we should consider end-of-life care. Before we left College, several colleagues assembled in the Reception office, in a somewhat sombre mood, to ask us to pass on their goodbyes.
The drive to Chipping Norton was agonising. Bob and I tried to keep it cheery, but we both knew what difficult decisions we might need to make later that morning. We stopped at Aldi on the way to get some mint sauce for Mark, as it was lamb for lunch and our suppliers had let us down.
We sat in the waiting room. Well, I sat on a chair, and Bob spent most of his time on the floor playing with the various poorly dogs also waiting to be seen.
The vet called us in and updated us on Manny’s situation and on her future care options. As I looked down at Manny, I felt, at that very moment, we connected on some spiritual level, and I knew that we had to make sure she had every chance. Her vet bills were increasing by the thousand – but I was sure we could find another conference to help cover the costs.
It was at that point that we decided on minor surgery to insert a temporary oesophageal tube, so that we could bring her back to her home environment and continue to feed her. We knew that this was her final chance for recovery, and I carefully deliberated over my update to the College community, preparing us all for the challenges we might face:
It wasn’t all smooth sailing. At one point, she clawed out her tube and so it was another long drive to the vets to have it put back in. Back in College, thanks to the wonderful care of Bob and Will Robinson, JCR Tortoise Keeper at the time, she enjoyed regular warm baths and was patiently fed by syringe on a regular basis.
We weren’t able to celebrate her birthday in the same way that year. Her friends from other colleges still came to visit and we held celebrations in the Quad, with the College community praying and wishing for her speedy recovery. As part of our emergency planning, the Fellows discussed possible funeral and burial arrangements, and we’d even started thinking about suitable hymns.
We know how this story ends – and fortunately it’s a happy ending!
Two years later, we’re celebrating Emmanuelle’s 117th birthday party. (We spent far too long debating this in a recent Fellows’ Meeting. That number is obviously made up. She was bought as an adult in 1976 from the Covered Market. We asked the vet, and they said it’s not possible to age tortoises. So, we’ll never know. She’s old, and you never ask a lady her age apparently, so that’s that).
I’m not sure if I’m meant to end this on some kind of deep message or something, this is mainly just content filler. But I think we can take some comfort from Manny’s resilience. These are tough and unusual times for many of us, but we too will make it through! Slow and steady, small steps at a time.
Just don’t leave the Front Door wide open please, else Manny might escape and I’ll be annoyed.
