Rose to the Rescue

Rose is my therapeutic pony.  Not my horse, but the Doc's good old tried and true cutting horse.  That said, I use her like she's mine whenever I'm feeling blue.  Doc has let me show her in the 'Never Won a Buckle' class at the a couple cuttings last year (I've still not won a buckle, I always come in second!), and she's my 'go to' pony when my body is hurting.

A few weeks into moping about having nothing to ride, I decided to sneak into the Cowboy's barn while he was busy elsewhere and throw the saddle on Rose.  He caught me, but didn't stop me.  Just said, "Shoulder's probably not sound enough to work the bull, you think?"  He wanted me to say it was.  I wasn't going to let him down!

He went slow, giving me lots of time to sit in the middle, but I was tense and didn't ride my best.  The following day I didn't work the bull, just rode in a few circles in the arena.  It felt good to be in the saddle.

Yesterday my friend stopped in, pulling her horse trailer, telling us she'd just dropped her mare off at the vet. We knew what that meant....she had Wobblers, something there is no recovering from.  I held her in my arms and she cried, but then we went into the barn and she pulled Kitty out of her stall.  She's been riding Kitty in lessons since finding out her mare was no longer safe.  I pulled out Rose, and we rode together, each of us downing our own sorrows while sitting astride.

The Cowboy fired up the bull and we each worked a little bit.  He suggested I switch hands, because I wasn't able to push on the horn with my right hand while stopping...not enough strength.  So I put the reins in my right hand and held the horn with my left, and Rosie worked like the pro she was, and I managed to sit relaxed enough for an enjoyable ride.  I love that Rosie horse.

My good friend Valarie just let me know she's hauling a couple horses to the arena.  One of them is Sandy...all tacked up and ready to transport me in a few more circles.  My body may not be fully healed, but my mind is getting better with the help of some old friends!

Sensational Changes

A lovely couple stopped by today to visit with Flirt.  I must admit that when I first placed an ad for her, that I bawled when the first person called.  A second email came in hot on the heels of that call...and I pulled the ad down.  

Truth be told, Flirt is getting too tall for a cutting horse.  Beautiful, fluid mover.  But she's not got the hard stop and rocking over the hock action I've got in Tika.  And did I mention tall?  She'll end up 15.2 to 16 hands without a doubt.  So I knew I'd sell her come next spring, but I'd thought I'd at least have some time with her under saddle.  That's half the fun of it, right?  Unwrapping the package to find out exactly what your mustang will do, then finding the home that matches?

So the ad came down and I pondered my dilemma.  I couldn't justify keeping her if I was only going to sell her anyway, but emotionally I was struggling.  She had to have the perfect home.   

Then a friend posted something on facebook.  She'd begun to once again look at the BLM photos, and her significant other was calling her an addict.  But she knew she needed a good, solid horse for him, and hey, who can blame her for becoming a mustang addict?  Plus, her man's horse had been struggling for some time with coffin bone issues, and they'd just found out she'd never be sound.  He'd need a nice, tall horse for trail riding.

Now, to me it seemed a no brainer.  Hello?  I've got one here!  She's gentled, she's tall, and I always knew she'd make a better husband horse than Oz.  So I just happened to mention it, out loud, on facebook, yesterday.  And today they came, they saw, and they messaged me this afternoon to say YES!!!

And so my Sensational Flirt is going south a bit to live with a mustang named Chance, and another mustang named Rio, and a certain blogger we all know and love name Paint Girl.  And I couldn't be happier.  

Cough. Cough. Sniffle. Sneeze.

Tika isn't happy about Fly Season

I got a cold.  It's no fun.  I've been worried about pneumonia, because they told me if I start coughing with a broken rib, that I'd likely not be able to expel the unwanted mucus out and it may settle in my lungs.  That, I can say, would not be fun.

I woke up coughing in the wee hours on Monday morning.  Deep, wet, heavy coughs.  I grabbed a pillow and held it against my right side, but it didn't really help much.  As the morning wore on, and then the day, my throat became all torn up.  

On Tuesday the coughing continued, but now there was a little, shall we say, drizzle?  My nose was beginning to run just a bit.  My son said I needed Mucinex to help thin the mucus, thereby making it easier for me to cough it up or sneeze it out.  Okay, sure, whatever you say.  Just get me something.

Wednesday, and my nose was 90% stuffed.  I was breathing through my mouth.  Colds never stick with me more than a couple of days, and while this was only the third, it seemed like an eternity to me.  I was getting beyond cranky with my family and finally drove myself to town in an effort to find something that would help. I'm sure they were happy to see me go.

By Thursday morning my mood was better, and my nose was functioning at least a little better than it had been the past couple of days.  I had an appointment for an ultrasound to see if there was any damage to the rotator cuff.  Mobility in my arm has been increasing due in part, I'm sure, to the fact that I'm using a horse and a curry comb as part of my personal therapy program.  It hurt like the dickens the first time I reached across in front of my body, holding that curry comb and then dragging it back along the horse's side.  Wow...who knew?  But after a few strokes, my body loosened up a little.  Each movement started stiff, but ended feeling a little better.  I've been doing that every day, haltering, grooming, leading...anything small that doesn't involve weight, but keeps my shoulder moving.  So as it stood, when I went into the tiny room and was handed a robe, I was capable of tying the strings behind me, much to the surprise of the young woman who'd been waiting outside the door to help me.

Later in the afternoon I was to see my regular doctor regarding my cold.  Really, it was likely nothing more, but better safe than sorry, right?  The pharmacist I'd just spoken to had said there were bacterial things floating around right now, and I really didn't want to be fighting off infection on top of everything else.  I was the last appoint of the day, and though the ultrasound folks said it would be 24-48 hours before the results made it to the doc, I opted to ask just the same.

The nurse pulled up the information and told me that it had been referred to the orthopedic surgeon that I'd been referred to.  However, she still had a copy of it which she happily printed up for me.  Of course I don't read medical speak, but I was totally able to make out what it said at the bottom.  I'm unremarkable.  Or at least, my shoulder is.  Hooray!  Not that being unremarkable has always been my goal, but today it quite suited me.  No rotator cuff damage.

Additional news was that there was no additional moisture content settling into my lungs, so the heavy coughing must have done the trick, despite having a broken rib.  Quite good news!

I'm anxious to climb back on a horse.   To once again start Chasing Dreams...

Changes...Continued

My muscles were tight, and I was pretty sure they were simply trying to prevent my movement so that I didn't injure whatever was hurt.  That's what the body does...protects itself like that.  After being transported from bed to bed to bed, visiting the MRI and CT Scanner, the ER Doc finally arrived with the news.

"No head injuries.  Shoulder is a 2nd degree separation.  Need to see an orthopedic specialist...or your doctor...in about four days.  In the meantime, here's a sling for your arm to help support the shoulder."

I played the fall over and over in my head.  Darling had said it looked like he'd jumped over top of me.  That may explain the big bruise on my shin...perhaps his hoof clipped it?  There's a scrape under my chin...stirrup?  Speculation....thoughts you think when you're unable to move and get on with your life.  

The faces of my children had unnerved me.  To see me laying there in a heap, unable to get up...can't be good.  Before the medics even arrived I promised City Boy, no more colt starting.  I'd never not been able to stand up before.  Even when I broke 4 ribs a couple years ago.  Yeah, it hurt like nobodies business, but I got up.  This time, there was no moving on my own due to the muscles that locked up.

On Thursday I trotted off to the doctor, driven by Darling, who asked if this is what it was like for me before she got her license?  Yes, Darling...quite!  Verdict on this morning was that I'd also broken a rib (I kinda wondered) and the separation was more likely a 3 than 2.  Oh...maybe some rotator cuff damage?  Jolly.

So more appointments.  I set one up for an ultrasound next week.  Waiting to hear back from the orthopedic specialist.  And physical therapy...she wants me to do it and I know I'll say no thank you.  Just tell me how much I can lift for now, and if there's a direction not to move my shoulder.  I'm pretty good at getting myself moving through the pain on my own without those terrorists of therapy, thank you!

I'd hoped to get some interest in Oz during next weekend's trail challenge.  Created a flyer and priced him reasonably, but not giveaway.  I'm now grounded...can't ride.  And how does one sell a horse who just threw them?  I dropped the price significantly, put up a couple ads online and had him sold in 24 hours.  I greeted them with my sling, told them what happened.  Told them he was young and did a young horse thing.  They weren't as experienced as I'd hoped, but they brought along the barn owner, an eventer, who told them she'd have preferred to see them with something a bit more solid in training, but she was really impressed with this horse.  She told them to expect to need some help from a professional trainer.  I may have turned them down if they'd not brought her along, but felt good in knowing I'd done my best to inform them fully of what had happened, and knew the barn owner would help guide them.

Leslie had commented that she'd not noticed me in a helmet in any of my photos.  And I will admit I've become lax abut it!  But yes, there was a time when I always did.  Probably should get back to it.  And yes.  I know.  I'm damned lucky to be alive.

Changes

It's funny, is it not, how life can change in the blink of an eye?  One minute you're riding along, happy and carefree, and the next you're slammed into the ground, wondering just what the damage is and if you'll be able to move without the aid of others.

Let me just say, right now, that yes, I visited club dirt, and yes, I'm able to move.  But for awhile there, I wasn't so sure.

Darling had been at a reining show over the weekend.  Saturday's show was full of low scores, and while Darling was disappointed, as the day wore on and more people had similar scores to hers, she began to feel a bit better about her first time out.  On Sunday, her ride was wonderful, with Doxee making her simple changes and not breaking gait, giving Darling a score of 68.5, enough to secure a tie for third place.  

A happy Darling and a goofy Doxee

The sun was shining and it was such a warm, beautiful afternoon, that rather than haul Doxee home to the Cowboy's, we decided to haul her to our home instead.  Darling thought it would be nice to take a couple days off from the arena and just hang out with her horse.  We decided that once it got cooler, maybe we'd take the two of horses out for a short ride together.

It was early enough in the day that I decided to saddle up Oz for a couple of relaxing loops around the path behind the house.  He was so good the other day, and I wanted to know if he would be again.  He was.  Just drop the reins and go.  I was loving that he took care of where his feet were placed, not rushing, just methodically taking his time.  I made two loops and then spotted Darling watching us.  "Want to ride him?" I asked her.  Yes, of course she did!  So she, too, took the big red gelding for a little spin.

When she climbed off, her comment was, "He's going to be a nice horse, Mom."  Neither Darling or I are in love with Oz.  He's been so tight and tense that we've not felt comfortable.  But this is the new side of him, and it's been nice to see.

After dinner, Darling and I went out and saddled up both Oz and Doxee.  I was on first and spent the extra few minutes walking around the driveway.  When Darling was ready, we walked down the trail that went past the creek, then turned toward the path behind the house.

Doxee was jittery.  Darling was laughing.  I was recommending she not get too close to the business end of Oz, because he wasn't happy about what was going on back there and we already knew he would kick if he felt anxious.  Darling asked to go around us, so I had Oz sidestep out of the way and they went on around.

I could feel the change in Oz.  Not a big change, but enough.  He didn't like the excitement.  He was used to traveling with steadfast Sandy, not this jittery little mare.  I asked him to move on down the fenceline, past Doxee and Darling (as they were working out their differences about stepping over a log) and towards the side of the house.

The old dog kennel sits up there, full of straw because our son had used it for raising turkeys last year.  Oz's step changed.  There was a stiffness to it.  Trees were now between us and Doxee, so he couldn't see her, but he knew she was there.  My mind took into account the change in pace, but I wanted him to stay relaxed and not give him a reason to think he needed to be worried.  I stayed loose, lowered my hand and asked him to continue as we'd been.

And then there was that half step, and the holding of the breath.  And it was all over.  The explosion that I'd been waiting for in the round pen and arena finally came out there under the canopy of trees.  Big monster bucks and lurches across the ground.  I felt myself being thrown up and down, told myself to grab hold of his head, thought I'd done it at one point, but then down it went again.  Keep your spurs out of his sides, I told myself.  I could see my feet...nowhere near his sides.  Then I saw his feet as went falling toward the ground, and I remember thinking that he was going to step on me.  But he didn't.

He was gone then.  Pain was searing through my right side, the shoulder especially.  I called to Darling to get help.  I tried to push myself upright, but didn't get too far.  I wiggled fingers.  I looked at my boot and wiggled toes that were down inside the leather.  A sigh of relief.  But the right side hurt, and there was something wrong with the shoulder.  City Boy was there, kneeling down.  My head was resting on his leg.  I couldn't rise up any further.  Something told me my muscles in the back were protecting an injury, not allowing me to move from the semi upright fetal position.  All I could think was what if I'd had some trauma to my head?  

I couldn't get up, so an ambulance was called.  In truth, I was afraid to get up just as much as I was unable.  I wanted professionals on hand.  They checked my vitals and asked all the questions that they ask, and it was determined I was not in shock.  I was placed on the gurney and off I went, sirens and lights and all.  City Boy followed.

Oz and I on the trail, a couple days earlier

To be continued...