My Miracle

It's been three weeks after Hillary's accident, and for me, it's been incredibly stressful. I suppose many horse people are like me; when not riding they are just simply not happy. For me, riding Hillary is the most important thing in the world. It feels like complete freedom and happiness. If I could describe what it means to be truly happy, I would say 'being on the back of Hillary.' And so, not being able to ride is like a constant wave of being unhappy; just not happy.

Today, (29.02.12) Hills had her scan to see the damage to her leg. This involved the clipping of both her back  legs (which is why they look so odd in the above photo). I tried to have Hillary clipped once, but this ended in disaster; Hills cannot be clipped without sedation. When she cannot move back to get away from the clippers, she begins to rear. I have been told that before I bought her, she had been clipped, however, her fear is so severe, I have no intention of putting her through it. Our riding and work schedule before the accident was such that, after each ride, she would be cooled down properly before I went home. This omitted the need for clipping, and although I often look at other horses, neat and tidy in this season, and wish Hills was clipped, I know that in reality, it's such a stressful thing to do to her, that for me, it's just not worth it. We work round ensuring that she does not get too hot in her work, and that she always is cooled down properly. Clipping, therefore, something that has simply become an irrelevant point for me.

So when the vet got the clippers from his car, I knew she would have to be sedated.

I have seen one sedated horse, but the thought of Hillary being sedated was, I admit, quite scary. The sedation worked almost immediately; her head drooped and she began to breathe really heavily. Everything that she did: trembling, dribbling, wobbling- I mentioned to the vet. This is all normal, and all the time, I whispered to her, standing by her head, making sure she was OK.

The scanning equipment is a hugely expensive piece of portable equipment, and the vet was very informative when using it. It was fascinating to think that in some way, I have seen Hillary's tendons; I have seen the lines of her bones, and her ligaments; I have seen something I would never normally get chance to see.

Hillary does have some damage to her tendons, and needs another scan in four weeks time. However, the severity of her accident makes her survival and progress, nothing short of remarkable; she is indeed, something of a miracle. It is only after the second scan that I will find out if she can go in the field (something I feel very strongly about as Hillary really values her time being 'natural'), but I am able to ride now, at walk, for the next four weeks. The thought of riding her without lunging, and without her having been out for such a long time does make me feel worried, as I am still in many ways dealing with my problems, but I am determined to make this work. Despite the fear and worry, I am desperate to ride her again, and so I need to try and give it a go. But more than that, more than riding, or turn out, or injuries or problems, above all that we have been through in the last few weeks, I feel nothing short of brilliant. I still have my best friend, and I cannot believe that I am so lucky to be able to have her as my own.

Road to recovery Part 1

Hillary is beginning to recover well. After the initial accident, her x-rays came back clear, and so the next milestone is the scan, which should take place next week sometime. The vet, who has been three times now, is extremely impressed with her progress. It's strange to think that I very nearly lost her, and in fact, I haven't yet come to terms with it. 

To non-horsey people, the way I feel about Hills may seem bizarre, but to me, she is like my child. I don't have children, and as yet, don't want any. I don't feel responsible for Hillary (although I know I am), I feel more as though I would do anything for her because I love her and couldn't imagine not having her in my life. If she hadn't reacted to her leg getting caught in the gate calmly, she probably wouldn't be here right now. I am so so grateful that she reacted so calmly, and that there were people around to help her. I am grateful to everyone that helped her that evening, and am trying to thank everyone that either helped her directly, or who have sent her get well messages. To many, this may seem strange, but to me, my whole world has been turned  upside down. 

The vet has been this morning (18.2.12), and is amazed by how well she is doing. The bandage has been removed from the much thicker green one, to a much lighter red one:

There is much less swelling than expected (some around the coffin joint and pastern) but everything seems unbelievably well. Hills in herself is bright and when I take her out on her little walks (to stop her stiffening up), she is forward and wanting to move about. The vet tells me that although her still being here is a miracle, and her progress is remarkable, there is still likely to be some damage. It's hard to be realistic for me.

I wanted to spend my few days off riding, and was so excited when the snow melted. I can't believe what has happened to her, and despite part of me feeling that so much has befallen her recently, I do feel quite positive. I can't wait for her rehabilitation to start, and to get her back working. Sometimes, things are sent to try us, and life suddenly becomes hard. I have hardly slept this week and when I have slept, I have been plagued by nightmares. But despite all the uncertainty and worry, I still have Hillary, and the prognosis is good. So for all the times she has been brave, and looked after me, I now will look after her, and I only hope I can give what she gave to me.

A Lucky Escape

My absolute nightmare happened yesterday (14.2.12). After a lovely Valentine's day, Ric (my partner) received a message via facebook, asking me to ring the farm urgently. My mobile had died some hours before, and as most days I barely use my phone, I didn't worry about it. Using Ric's phone, we rang the farm. The news was frightening to any horse owner- Hillary had got herself caught in the gate in a freak accident. The gate had been removed but they had called the vet in the emergency, and Hills had undergone some x-rays. The worst part of this was, was that I had drunk a few glasses of wine by this time and was not legal to drive. Panicking, I phoned my mother, but could not get in touch with her. I then phoned a taxi. There was no way I wasn't getting to the farm.

Eventually I got in touch with my mother and one taxi ride, followed by a ride in my mother's Land Rover later, I arrived at the farm. Hillary was eating (a good sign) but could barely bear any weight on her leg. She'd been given a huge shot of pain killers, and kept fidgeting with the bandaged back leg, picking it up and putting it down. Her x-rays had come out clear, although the vet couldn't definately rule out a hair-line fracture. Everything had happened while I wasn't there; while I had been playing pool in our local pub, laughing and joking, totally unaware. I felt angry with myself for not being there for her.

That night (last night) I did not sleep a wink, worrying about her.

This morning, I waited for the vet to call to tell me when he'd be visiting again. I went into work for a couple of hours, despite being off on holiday) to take my mind off it, but it didn't work. By the time the vet finally arrived, I couldn't focus on anything else- I'd been mindlessly brushing Hillary for about an hour already.

The vet arrived, and was very helpful. He watched her walk out of her stable, and the prognosis seems positive. Hillary is lucky to be still with us; she is the luckiest outcome of a very unlucky situation. She needs to be given painkillers for the foreseeable future, and also for the time being, any form of exercise that falls beyond a 2 minute walk is strictly forbidden. She is due a scan late next week to assess more finely, whether there is any other damage.

I am gutted. More for her than for me, but I really wanted to continue riding. I feel like there is a lot befalling her at the moment, and I don't for a second believe she deserves it. I am so unbelievably thankful for the people that rescued her, and indeed for the fact that she is still here, but for the time being, my saddle will sit firmly over the back of the sofa, than over the back of my horse.
Thank you to all those involved in helping us last night. From the bottom of my heart.

Get well soon my Sunshine x x x

Snow.

It is February and snow has come. Luckily, unlike the two previous years, I have been able to get to the farm without having to rely upon my parents. Their Land Rover is so valuable, but I hate having to take up their time. But, there is still time yet...

Hillary has been very calm this time round. Usually, she likes to run around, and throw in a few bucks, spraying snow everywhere, but this time, she has seemed much more relaxed, more interested in food than in using up a bit of energy. She still waits stock still while I change her rugs, and then walks quickly down to the field or menage snorting, wanting to be out and to stretch her legs. Once loose though, she barely moves; two rolls is the most active I've seen her since the snow.

I worry about the ice. Our yard has been gritted, but everywhere is slippery at the moment, and that along with the dark evenings, make me question turning Hills out. Tonight, I turned her out in the field whilst doing her jobs. When the light began to fade, I decided to bring her in. As I turned to close the gate, her back leg slipped on some ice, and she almost sat down. Luckily, she righted herself immediately, but then proceeded to walk quickly back to her stable, expecting her tea. I don't know how much she can see, and so the fact that there is ice on the ground worries me. She doesn't seem to think twice about it, and ploughs on regardless. I wish that I could stop thinking about her eyes; I wish that I didn't know in a way, because then it wouldn't make me think about and analyse everything I  do all the time. I want to look forward and hope again.

I can't wait for the snow to go. I want to get out her saddle and bridle, and ride again. I aim to ride as much as I can for as long as I can, and every day this snow continues is a day less for my aim. I have stopped being angry now, and have become more accepting, more comfortable with her condition and my lack of options. It seems that other things too, have decided to play on my mind, and at the moment, I am a whirlwind of worry.  But in her ignorance, Hills at least is happy, and if I'm honest, that alone makes life worth living.