June 22, 2019

The Other Reason Solo Lived

Some of it was just plain luck.  There were so many places things could have gone further awry & they didn't.  Luck is blind, we didn't earn it, but I am grateful for it nonetheless.

But the other big reason Solo is here today is...because he is Solo.  Because he LET us help him. I wouldn't have blamed him if he didn't.

He spent weeks in a stall, with daily harassment by vets, students, me, all staring, poking, treating, injecting (thankfully, IVs reduce this).  Yes, he went for walks, hung out in the round pen, & enjoyed baths, but there was a lot of standing around too.  Those drainage holes had to be cleaned & debrided in stocks daily.  He had frequent oral exams & scoping.

All of this could make any horse pretty darn angry & resentful.  Heck, it would make ME pretty darn resentful.  But Solo never got angry.  He always pricked his ears when someone entered his stall & stood quietly while they inspected him.  He walked obediently into the stocks every time.  He let me clean & flush the holes in his head un-sedated & accepted his vital meds.

A week before discharge - clearly (not) suffering
Solo remained the gentle, forgiving horse he has always been, the horse who is always optimistic that the next time will be better (a quality his owner fails at).  This really was a key element in his survival.

To be honest, it wasn't an angle I had considered in great detail before this, but it definitely will be a conscious question in decisions about ANY horse's care in the future:  is this horse mentally up to working WITH me through whatever challenge he is facing?

We don't always know for sure, & of course we can't predict everything that's going to happen but I feel a responsibility to give a hard, honest look at the question, to the best of my ability.  I.e., I would absolutely not ask my 5-yr-old uber-sensitive TB to deal with something like this.

This issue has also been incorporated into my training.  I am spending purposeful time with Echo, working on skills specifically related to vet care.  For example:
  • Practicing wrapping ice packs & other strange feeling things onto each leg & foot -- particularly with his hinds, which he is super fussy about
  • Putting my hands, empty syringes, shining flashlights, into his mouth (& teaching that it's different then him putting his mouth around my hands, LOL)
  • Standing in buckets (we haven't gotten to this yet, shame on me)
  • Working around him in the dark wearing a headlamp & dropping or tossing things, having phone timers/alarms going off
  • Standing in the cross-ties when Solo has wandered out of sight (he's gotten surprisingly good about this)
These little things become such important skills, as you all know if you've ever had to be an equine nursemaid.  I'd taken them for granted because Solo has always been pretty cooperative.  Seeing how much my buddy's life depended on them opened my eyes.

Solo has a long history of being subjected to strange things by his owner...
I wrote these three treatises in hope that they help someone else if faced with something similar.  I had to make a lot of decisions without much information, which makes it even more difficult.  As I've stated before, this is NOT something I would do for any horse -- the final bill, well, I can pretty much guarantee it was higher than whatever you might guess.  That still paled in comparison to the investment of energy, heart, & time this all took.  None of it was undertaken lightly.  The right decision for you & your horse may be different than mine, but I hope at least you have a better idea of what the options might look like.

Epilogue

These days, Solo & I go for a trail ride about once a week, exasperated accompanied by our Baby Monster.  We move slower than we used to, but that's just fine with Solo, who firmly believes that all of life should go at the pace HE chooses.  The small lump of his tracheostomy scar, barely there unless you're looking for it, is all that remains of his ordeal.

Spring 2018
Every time those orange ears are framing my view, my heart overflows.  With disbelief that we made it through.  With love for my best friend.  And gratitude.

For an incredible team of vets, including residents, students, & staff, who went above & beyond & literally came running in the middle of the night when he needed them.  I was at the hospital every single day, except for two days I had to run an unavoidable work project; I was always treated with respect & included as an integral part of the team.

For all of you, who followed our story & sent well-wishes, which meant so much & still do.  I'm sorry I wasn't better at chronicling in the meantime.

For the support & assistance of my mom & Erica.  We wouldn't be here today without you.  For my neighbour, who helped me take care of Encore while his friend was away. For kind friends who picked up my slack at work & for my boss, who was far more understanding than I expected.

And of course, for Solo.  My one, true heart.  Thank you for fighting & thank you for staying.  I know one day, we will have to say goodbye, & I know I will never be ready, but I am so grateful it's not today.

You quite literally saved my life, buddy.  I'm overjoyed that I could finally return the favour.

12 comments:

  1. Love love this. And excellent points you make. A less patient and cooperative horse most certainly would not have fared so well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Had I been the patient, I definitely would have been harboring hostile feelings by week 6!

      Delete
  2. this post gave me all the feelings. Solo reminds me of Irish. Who is only still with us because he lets me take care of him.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You have done such an amazing job with him - you've inspired me to get out there and get Dassah used to me doing weird things with her - feet in buckets, letting me look in her mouth, wrapping her feet, etc.

    I'm so glad he made it through - he's SUCH a good boy. And you are such an awesome owner.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Good job, you! I figure the worst case scenario is you will never have to use those skills -- so I really hope you never do! And thank you for your kindness. :)

      Delete
  4. Reading about how things worked out for Solo makes me (desperately) wish things had worked better for my Vannah-girl. I'm coming up on a year from losing her last August and the pain is still sharp. Even now I'm tearing up just writing about it. Hell may as well be honest, I'm weeping. I miss my girl. Yes, I still have Sunny, my blue eyed monster child. But I've had a hard time going to the farm and looking at the yet-bare spot of earth, under which Vannah resides. Many hugs from me to your Solo and the baby monster TB, Echo.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh how I wish I could make it so for you. I wish I had discovered some way to make love always win - that I would love so much to give you. I have never been brave enough to go back & visit my beloved Smokey-dog's grave from 8 years ago, nor have I gotten another dog, so I can understand how hard the missing can be for those special ones. A hug from me & a nuzzle from Solo (because if I nuzzled you, that would just be weird; Echo saw something shiny & got distracted). <3

      Delete
  5. Big hugs! I'm glad he pulled through!

    ReplyDelete