So, How Was Your Day?

Plan:  Wake up, load up, leave farm about 9:00, take Encore and Pete along with me and lifeshighway to the Moss Foundation on a perfect riding day in the beautiful pine savannah.

Reality:  I should have stayed in bed.

Episode 1:  I am backing out of my driveway, as per usual.  My street is narrow but has very little traffic, it doesn't even have a middle line.  I'm not really paying attention, I do this every morning.  Until I feel the passenger rear wheel suddenly sink into the ditch, that deadly point of no return where your axle is riding the ground.  *insert many bad words here*  Plus the grass was JUST slick enough from a light frost that there was no hope of a lucky surge.

However, I AM a lucky person in that I look forlornly out my windshield and my eyes lock on to my work truck sitting in the driveway.  Which just so happens to have a 9,000 lb winch on the front.  As furtively (please, let the neighbours be sleeping) and quickly as possible, I dig out winch controller, pull out cable, attach to tow hook, wrestle with poor plug placement on front of work truck, curse many times, then hit the go button. 

Like magic, my precious is gently removed from the ditch and ready to go once more. 

My brain, however, said beware a bad omen at the start.

Sometimes, I'm a poor listener.

Episode 2:  I had heard my phone ringing while hooking up the winch, but I blew it off in favour of the task at hand.  Upon recovering truck and normal direction of travel, I see call was from BO and I call her back.

"Um," she says.  "Encore has a cut on his leg and it is swollen, is it ok if I take him out and cold hose him."

More cursing.

I know exactly what happened.  Encore was put out last night with his normal pasturemate PLUS another horse who he is not usually with.  Other horse gets quite aggressive at food time and it's not hard to surmise that hooves started flying at breakfast time and Encore got the blow trying to get away (he's mostly submissive in the pasture).

I get there and find a deep slice and leg swollen hock to ankle.

Where is my tendon?

Deceptively small.

My hocks are two differently sized turkeys.

So much more cursing.  Horse trial in two weeks.  Why, cod, why? 

I call vet -- I'm taking no chances.  Robin is on call, so we meet him at clinic.  Summary:  the shoe slice itself is just forward enough to have avoided anything nasty, it's just made a pocket where it cut the flesh.  The concern is the cellulitis, which sets in very quickly, so just in case the swelling IS that (instead of just a trauma reaction), to SMZ-ville we shall go. 

Thankfully, Dr. Brian says we should be cleared up within a week and have no problem getting to our trial.  I am relieved but still anxious until I can kill the swelling.  I leave with assignment of Furazone/DMSO sweat for 2-3 days, 5 days of antibiotics, and standing wraps.  I will also sneak my Animalintex in there because it is magic.  I was glad I went, because had I waited two days, we might have been in a world of hurt. 

On the good side, Encore is not lame at the walk and is very generous about letting us mess with it.  When I poke it and cold hose it, he just holds up the leg as if to say, Fix please, mum.

There was nothing more I could do for him so I turned him out and we loaded Solo on the trailer in his stead.  We would not get to enjoy our lovely sandhills, but there are some nice (hilly!) bridle trails in a local city park, so we went there instead.  It would be good for the hippo slug Solo to work off some fat.

Episode 3:  We were just at this park last weekend.  They held a 100 mile foot race (why anyone would voluntarily do such a thing, I have no idea, but whatever).  Since then, they have put down a bunch more gravel on the lovely, smooth bridle paths which are usually just screenings.  Evil.

Both Solo and Pete are barefoot behind (I put Solo's old easyboots on his front feet).  It made for a long ride.  There were some stretches we could get some trot work in, but you had to come to a screeching halt and pick your way through some sharp-edged, hoof-poking #57 approximately every 5 minutes.  We decided to call it interval training and all parties were overjoyed to get back to the trailer.

I don't think Solo will ever let me catch him again, but Encore let me take off his wraps and hose his leg tonight, dose him with his SMZ's, and wrap him back up without complaint. 

Now, I am drinking a beer and I am considering never leaving the house again.

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I Am Not A Vet

I just wanted to share a brief summary of the 4,000th time Dr. Bob has saved me from myself.  I got both Batman AND Robin today actually, I felt quite assured they would fix my boys.

Solo's big ol' hole that was all mushy and gross and I was sure would lead to coffin bone infection and surgery and imminent death?  It was an abcess that blew right through the frog.  Dr. Bob was able to carve the whole thing out and all is well again.  I never saw Solo limp though, so he snuck it by me!

Encore got a check-over by Batman to follow up on his sidekicks work and a thumbs up of approval was given.  Dr. Bob did a little more work on his poll and then two fluid acupuncture injections behind his ears, which I had never seen before.  Basically the fluid is a saline mixture (I forget what it was mixed with) that puts pressure on the nerve endings.  Encore was completely unphased by big needles going into his skull -- he was fixated on the fact that the whole clinic smells like cows (Dr. Bob raises beef you can buy on the hoof) and nothing else mattered.

So I brought home two repaired ponies and hopefully, with the holiday weekend, I can, GASP, actually ride them!

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Oh, Solo, Now I Have To Call Batman Too?!

Solo has been out on a pasture which has a giant mudpit by the gate from this winter.  It's a boggy area that never really dries all the way except in drought.  Unfortunately, horses also like to hang out by the gate.  Also unfortunately, due to some genetic flaw, Solo has wussy feet.

I'm sure it doesn't take you long to make the leap:  thrush.  I was not a happy camper.  My horse has NEVER EVER EVER had thrush and I work so hard at foot care.  But there was little I could do except treat the snot out of it, which I did.

At the end of last week, it was ok.  Not great, still mushy, but I kept pouring stuff on it and Robin had helped by carving out some flaps of frog that were trapping bacteria.

Sad foot is sad.

Tonight, I had decided to give Encore the night off after a tough weekend of MAJOR trail/hill/roadwork on Saturday and a dressage lesson on Sunday.  My plan was to ride Solo.  That is, until I picked up his right front foot.

He's barefoot right now, since he's not doing much, so his feet don't trap much dirt.  But as I went to scrape out the mud trapped on his frog, my hoof pick sunk in.  Deeper.  As I picked, it went even deeper and dug out white mushy stuff.  My heart sank.

I shoved the ThrushBuster neck in as far as it would go and filled it with purpleness.  I made sad eyes at BO and said, can Solo PLEASE stay up in the dry pasture tonight so I can take him to vet tomorrow?  Happily she said yes, so he will be accompanying his little brother to see the Dynamic Duo (Encore's getting some follow-up accupuncture on his poor stuck poll).

Did I mention I just had to take my blue-tongued shink to the vet on Friday?

It never ends....

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In Which Robin Is Just As Awesome As Batman

Right before the final jump on the Southern Pines XC course, I felt Encore crossfire as he did a 90 degree turn while I tried to convince him to balance.  I felt something tweak beneath me.  It wasn't quite a pop, it wasn't a stumble, but something changed.  He cantered on unchanged and showed no signs of distress, so I let him jump the jump and we stopped.

I hopped off, felt tendons, joints, checked shoes, feet, all were intact and perfectly normal.  I continued to watch them over the next few days, but to my great relief everything remained at baseline levels.

Then I saw it:  a wayward vertebrae sticking up in Encore's SI area, jutting up like a mini K2 along his spine.  There seemed to be no pain around it, but I felt certain that was what I felt on that turn.  I made an appointment with my vet and kept riding.

Encore slowly began to develop pain in his loin on the right side and his hip on the left side.  I, of course, freaked out, having not had the best history with back sore horses.  But I held my breath and tried to contain my panic.

Dr. Bob is always very busy and only does farm calls on certain days, so his sidekick, Dr. Brian, came out to fix my broken unicorn.  I showed him the hip and loin pain, and showed him the vertebrae I had found (as if he couldn't find it himself) and told him about the weird step on course.  I then said Encore had to be perfect by April 21st and he was in charge of making him fixed or else he owed me $350 of a missed event, ha!

He nodded and assured me that all made sense -- when the front end is doing one thing and the back end is doing the opposite, it basically jams the spine in the middle together and then you get things popping out.  Ow.

Then he promptly went to Encore's head and started feeling around his neck.  I watched, puzzled.  His neck didn't hurt, his back hurt.

But I have already witnessed that Dr. Brian knows A LOT about feet and is very thorough with his bodywork, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Do you have a hard time flexing him right?" he asked.

Yep.

"Is it hard for him to bend right and he falls in?"

Yep.  I just figured his muscles were a bit tight or I just wasn't training him well enough.

"Nope," the Boy Wonder said, "the right side of his poll is all jammed up and he cannot flex it to the right at all."

Well, I'll be gee-whilikers.  I never even thought about that.  I bow before my new guru of bodywork.

Dr. Brian spent a fair amount of time loosening up his poll, then put his spine back where it belonged and told me to assess over the next 4-5 days.  I was to ride him lightly and stretchily the next day and then resume work.  If, after 5 days, he was still tight in the poll, he can work on it some more and do some acupuncture.

Sweet.

So I rode him last night as instructed.  His back felt great -- he was steady in the bridle and stretched and rounded his little heart out, it was lovely.  He did have improved motion in his poll to the right but was still a bit tight.  Some may be muscle habit, so I'll continue coaxing it over the next few days and then see where we stand.

Encore's body has changed a LOT in the seven (??!!) months I have had him -- the way he moves, his musculature, it's all different, so there is bound to be some adjustment needed.  I am so grateful that I have Batman and Robin on my team to make sure my little buddy stays healthy when I miss a detail!

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X Is For Xray, eXpensive, and eXplode

The first is what Encore got, the second is what the credit card got, and the third is what my head did.

Hold on, back up....what?

Oh yes, my theory holds.  And by that I mean my theory is that if you have one horse, you will just have a lame horse and no spare; if you have two horses, you will just have two lame horses and no spare; three horses, yep, three lame horses and no spare...you get the picture.

I've been noticing that Encore has a bit of a bobble on his left front at the trot.  Not always, but I can see it and I can feel it, especially on the longe.  Well, he's an underweight, undermuscled, crooked ex-racehorse with bare feet in recovery who flexed clean so it was hard to say it was a true lameness.  But last night, it was a definite, though slight limp (insert head explosion here) and I decided to take him to visit Dr. Bob (or rather Dr. Brian, the sidekick of the very busy Dr. Bob when you call last minute) this morning.

Of course, by the time I parked my truck in my driveway yesterday evening, I was already sure that he had ringbone and would either (a) never jump again or (b) snap off his leg and die. Cue Anxiety Girl.

We flexed again and we shot a couple radiographs and then we tucked Anxiety Girl back into her bed:

(1) Despite my diligent, yet sporadic application of Durasole, the sole on his left front was soft enough that you could see it flex beneath the pressure of Dr. Brian's fingers. Owie, so not comfortable. You're getting front shoes, my boy!

(2) I wanted a lateral view of each front ankle and foot anyway -- the rads are such a powerful tool for understanding what exactly you are dealing with mechanically. Both fronts were remarkably clean. There are a couple of osselets on the right front that are old and set and a small P1 bone spur on the left, also old and set, no problem. Otherwise, P1/P2/P3/navicular bone have clean joint spaces and nice edges, yay!

(3) I would never guess it from looking at his feet from the outside, but Encore has a TON of toe which needs to be lopped off. Said lopping will hopefully go along way towards correcting...

(4) P1/P2/P3 should line up on a nice straight axis. They don't -- each has its own angle in there (can we say cattywompus?!). The rear end of his coffin bone sits too high and things are jammed up. By slowly changing the hoof angle, we can realign this whole support structure to avoid problems in the future (cattywompus = bad).

All in all -- fixable. No ringbone, no legs snapping off. We will put our lovely farrier to work and hopefully go on about our business. And may farriers who don't pay attention to bone angles find their underpants invaded by fire ants -- no one likes to fix your messes!

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Please, Just One?

I think Solo's feeling a little bummed out.  You would think he'd appreciate hitting the horse jackpot; his life consists of grazing in his favourite pasture with his buddy, Danny, like they are Siamese twins.  A couple times a week, he is subjected to short, light ride to stretch and move his muscles.  Otherwise, he is stuffed with treats and rubbed with his favourite brushes.

He reckons it sucks.

Well, I don't think he minds the grazing part terribly, but that's not a new thing.  What he minds is the part where he lost his job. 

We trot up the hill to the arena, passing through our jump field.  By the first jump, Solo leans hard towards it, begging pleasepleaseplease can I jump it??!  My heart hurts as I have to say, sorry, buddy, not today.  With a sigh, he continues on past the second jump.  He leans again.  How about this one??!  Again, I have to deny his request.  Each jump merits the same pleading from him and the same sad rebuttal from me.  It kills me. 

Stretchy trot work in the arena garners only resigned acceptance from Solo, so I give him some canter figure eights with flying changes in the corners and a hand gallop down the long side.  He is ok as long as we keep a soft, long contact.  That seems to perk him up a little bit, so I feel slightly better.

So now I must formulate plans including "things that make Solo happy" and I must make sure those things do not include any "things that make Solo more sore."  It's a fine line.  Hopefully, the weather will cooperate and we can do a trail ride later in the week, that always perks up some red ears.

I am waiting and watching, as instructed, but I am not seeing huge improvements.  The vet that did Encore's PPE suggested a bone scan to isolate problem areas, since we cannot see into his back sufficiently with other imaging technologies.  It could very well be telling, but last I checked, bone scan prices hovered around $1200.  He said he could "work out a deal" with me, but unless that included a discount of, say, $1199....  I am researching the details anyway and keeping it in mind.  If it could pinpoint something we have not yet identified, then perhaps that information could lead us to a fix.  That would be worth twice that price.

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Back To Good (For Half Of Us)

Wednesday, two shiny red boys went to visit Dr. Bob's trusty sidekick, Dr. Brian, who does lots of bodywork.

Encore was first; he needed his fall shots and a bloodwork panel (all normal, hooray!). In addition, his lumpy back and pelvis, all jammed up from exploding out of starting gates, needed some serious chiropractic attention. So Dr. Brian adjusted his withers. And lower back. And hips. And elbows. And neck. And pelvis. Did I mention he was jammed up? Afterwards, it was amazing, even his topline changed and softened. He gave a sigh of thanks and stood very still for his ministrations. I am very excited that we've reset everything to baseline so I can rebuild his muscle and condition from there.

Solo was next, the problem child. Dr. Brian went over every joint in his body, adjusted a few things, and then said, "Hm." The same sore spots in his loins and behind his hips tweaked as reliably as ever. I'd given him two weeks off to see if complete rest made any difference whatsoever. It didn't. Per Dr. Brian's recommendations, which agreed with Dr. Bob's, we'll keep up the light work schedule for another month, then re-evaluate. We don't want to let him down completely -- he's difficult to condition and just letting bad muscles sit merely gives you tighter muscles and less body support. That miraculous cure I was waiting for? Poor Dr. Brian didn't have it and got to watch my crestfallen face again.

So we'll keep on keepin' on. Encore has been threatened within an inch of his life to stay sound so I can stay busy with Project Horse 2011. Yesterday, he conquered the Blue Tarp of Doom without even a flinch over the course of about 30 seconds. I am baffled by a horse who learns faster than I do so new lesson plans are in order for the weekend!

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In Which Dr. Bob Breaks My Heart

Someone once said to me, "Treasure every ride, every run, because you never know when it might be your last one."

And I always have, because if I have learned one thing about horses and about eventing, it is that the sucker punch is inevitable.

I took Solo in to Dr. Bob on Tuesday for his fall hock injections, but I also wanted his back investigated some more. He has been doing relatively well until about two weeks ago, when suddenly the soreness escalated to the point where on some days, he wouldn't let me pick up one of his hind legs. Concerned, I was.

Dr. Bob poked, Solo protested. Dr. Bob said, "Hmmmmm...." and stared thoughtfully. My blood pressure turns into a geyser when Dr. Bob is stumped. Dr. Bob is never stumped.

He proffered several possibilities, each of which was tough to diagnose. He talked about xrays where they hang the horse by his back feet from the ceiling after cashing your $2000 check. I heard the words "ossification," "restriction of vertebral movement," and "then he could only jump crossrails." I think my brain shut down at about that point. :Please stop telling me about impossible things," I begged. I am sure he could read the yawning chasm in my soul quite plainly on my face.

This is the best I can gather - best case scenario, since I have worked out most of the knots in the injured muscle, the whole hip area is very loose and the muscle has to rebuild itself and will do so. However, in the worst case scenario, the body will attempt to stabilize that area by laying down bone around the vertebrae, at which point mobility goes away. Which means Solo's career would be over.

All I can think is that had I simply listened to my gut reaction and scratched that Sunday morning in Virginia, none of this would be on the table. One small wrong decision can bring that house of cards crumbling down around your ears when you least expect it.

For most people in this sport, they could simply pick up a prospect and let the healing take its time. I can't seem to figure out a way to make the money magically happen though, so I am just as stuck as Solo is, everything on hold while his body decides what to do. That event in October I've been looking forward to all year? Probably not going to happen. Fall season? Not looking good. Spring season? Oh, if there are any universal powers out there, please let good things happen.

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It's A Bird. It's A Plane. Oh, Wait, It's SuperVet!

That's right, it's Episode 59 of Dr. Bob Presents.

It was time for fall shots (a perennial favourite of Mr. Orange Wimpy Pants) which is code for time where I stockpile all my equine questions in a marathon Dr. Bob Inquisition. Only there is no torture. Unless you consider me asking questions torture. Which he might. But I pay him. So too bad.

Question 1: I've noticed Solo's heels tend to underrun. Should I be concerned? Should I try to fix this? Can it be fixed?

Dr. Bob's Treatise On Feet (may be cropped to fit this screen and typing energy level): When a horse's heels get crushed by bad farrier work, they cannot always be fixed. Which is why I freak out when I see this happening. The heels will, over time, continue to grow at the new, undesired angle and you can cause more damage and spend a horse's whole life trying to fix it. What is important is that the heels are fully supported, the toes are kept short, the angles of the whole foot and leg are balanced, and the horse is comfortable.

Question 2: My massage fingers are paranoid. Is this part of his butt supposed to feel this tight and is this part suppose to twitch when I press on it and does his ass feel better?

Dr. Bob's Treatise On Equine Musculature (definitely abbreviated to allow for approaching bedtime): This muscle group goes this way and this muscle group goes this way (lecture on muscles and fascia commences which is fascinating, but too long to type). Yes, this part is supposed to feel tight and yes, that is supposed to twitch, and yes, he feels much better. Your massage work is excellent! (here I throw a self-congratulatory internal party)

Question 3:  I would like to bring Solo back to competition at Novice level in early October.  We will not go Training again until at least late November; I will not rush him.

Dr. Bob: Sweet. Sounds good. Thumbs up. (Hey, it's not all treatises.)

Question 4:  My friend's horse is a chunky, black, PerchieX and he has terrible anhydrosis.  He's been on OneAC for months and they are both miserable.  I heard a rumour about accupuncture helping -- can you fix him?

Dr. Bob's Treatise On Anhydrosis (I've already heard the accupuncture treatise): Sure, I can staple his ears; this commonly is very successful. I've had a horse start sweating within 15 minutes of staples going in. I've never had much luck with OneAC. Thyroid supplements also often help, but take about a month to start working.

From here, we launched into a discussion of the equine glandular system and feedback pathways throughout. I don't think it's good for business to let science geeks talk to each other, we have notoriously poor time management skills. In fact, Dr. Bob's lucky I don't have any money or else I would schedule appointments just to peruse his seemingly boundless collection of horse knowledge.

Your summary: Solo's healing. His feet and muscle look good and a comeback looks hopeful. I can begin adding more jumps to our rides while keeping up the massage. Solo was a week overdue on worming and his fecal was at a 2 for worms, so we obviously have undead zombie worms on the farm and I shot that wormer in as soon as we got home. Of course, he spit it out, so I scraped it off the floor and shoved it back in. He swallowed that time. PerchieX needs some ear staples and my bank account needs CPR. But it was worth it.

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Just A Quickie

Field work has kept me away from both horse and computer for the past week as we've been out snorkeling Carolina rivers, in our endless quest for freshwater mussel population data.

This morning, Solo and I did get to resume our interval training, looping in a stretchy trot around cut-over farm fields.  Not entirely fun as it clearly demonstrated how much fitness we've both lost.  But we bulled through three 15-minute trot sets and a sad, single 4-minute canter set.  Gotta start somewhere and 95% humidity never helps.

On the walk back to the farm though, I was reminded why Mr. Shiny exudes awesomeness:  deer bursting through the woods?  Transfer truck jake-braking around the turn as it passes us on the shoulder?  Turkey flying at our faces?  Empty bottles of Sprite and flattened Natty Light cans crunching underfoot?  Hay tarps whipping off a passing trailer?  None garner even the flick of an ear from my seasoned campaigner.  I smile when a passing car honks, trying to elicit a spook from my horse.  Not gonna work, suckers, he's busy looking at a tree.

Coming up, I'm trying a couple exciting products that may just make our lives better.  We also see Dr. Bob in about a week for a check on Solo's injury and his fall shots -- who knows what fascinating information he will impart this time!  I am hoping for good news, as Solo's butt is much less lumpy when I massage, which means I'm finding fewer knots and less pain.  Stay tuned!

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Lessons From Dr. Bob, Vol. 38

I don't know how many ways it is possible to say "I LOVE DR. BOB."  I mean, my plan is to lure him into a stall and then lock him up so he can never leave.  He can reside there and just impart his seemingly endless stream of knowledge through the bars.  He can have all the fresh carrots from the garden he wants.

That man can tell you more about your horse using his eyes and his hands and a lifetime of horse care than most vets I've seen can with bone scans, MRIs, ultrasounds, nerve blocks, and blah blah blah. AND he stays up to date. I'll be all smart and say, "Hey, I just read about this cool study online..." and he'll come right back with the history leading up to the study, the complications with it, whether or not the results are any good, and situations where it would be applicable. Priceless, he is priceless and if I ever have to move, I'm kidnapping him at hoofpick-point. Too bad other clients, Solo trumps you all!

The POINT of my unadulterated worship is yet another conversation we had today about Solo. I have been dutifully massaging the Orange Butt and a funny thing happened: I would start at the top of his hips near his spine and work down the gluteus muscles (the top pink butt muscles on the right) to where they join the head of the femur. I found knots to work on, but not overwhelming pain. But then I would work back UP the same muscle, bottom up to spine, and Solo's leg would twitch and buckle like crazy. I quickly surmised it caused agonizing pain.

Well, science girl chirped into my head and said, "Wait, you have no control variable!" So I tried it on Solo's pasturemate, Pete. Similar response. Hmmm.

Dr. Bob: "Yep, if you go down the muscle, you are massaging correctly. Going back up, against the 'grain,' you are pinching nerves and pinching muscle fibres against bone, so they don't like it that much and if you really go for it, you can damage nerves."

He then followed up with a scientific discussion of the intersection of acupuncture, physiology, and 3000 years of muscle work.

So, my horse is not in agonizing, leg-buckling pain after all. I was just doing it wrong.

Thank you, Horse Master, good to know!

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It's Worrrking, It's Worrrking....

Despite the 17 layers of sweat, Solo and I had a great ride today!  Funny how two months ago, a great ride meant powerful extended gaits and lofty oxers.  Because today it meant even stretching in the trot and 18" crossrails.

He's got some spring and swing back in his trot, once we get warmed up. The jumps are easy and balanced and rhythmic and relaxed. He's even stretching down at the canter, which is slow and metronomical (I just made that a word, ha!).

This means, in short, that I've finally struck a combination of things that are working. Magical tape + Robaxin + deep massage with Surpass + stretching till my eyes roll back in my head = IMPROVEMENT. The massage is slowly breaking down the scar tissue and I can feel the knots in the muscle getting incrementally smaller. The Surpass is taking away some of the pain in partnership with Robaxin, which relaxes clenched muscle fibers. The tape and stretching are helping to increase circulation and rebuild new muscle and heal injured spots.

Ok, that wasn't so short.

But I am thrilled to finally see some progress in this slow slow recovery. Yeah, we should be leaping 3'3" jumps right now -- but instead of being ticked off that that's not happening, I am instead pleased that we are meeting new objectives; we are doing better than we were a week ago!

I try hard to keep my eye fixed on what happens tomorrow and what happens next week. I am single-mindedly focused on those muscle groups: moving them, stretching them, working them through their protests and gradually, oh so gradually, bringing them back up to par. There is nothing more to be gained by wishing we were doing more (ok, I admit, I give in a little sometimes) but everything to be gained by the baby steps we are doing today.

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The Sticky Is Sticking!!

In the midst of doing 20 other things, I do have to share...PT came out for our combined FOURTH attempt at making the kinesiotape stick to horseyness last night.  I have clipped Solo's sore spots again with a pair of face clippers and washed and buffed his butt till there was not a stray hair or speck of dirt to be found.  PT also sprayed on some Magical Sporty Sticky Spray For Sweaty Athletes before applying the tape. I put Solo out last night with his fly sheet on and when I came out this evening...

THE TAPE WAS STILL INTACT!!!!

I failed to contain my excitement as I sent a text in all caps to PT (who replies, "sweet.") and professed my undying love for his skillz. Now we shall see just how long it stays on.

After a long chat with Dr. Bob on Monday, I've also added methocarbamol (Robaxin) to Solo's treatment repertoire, and when the tape comes off, I'll do some deep massage with Surpass creme as well. The Surpass is diclofenac creme, interestingly the same drug that I have used in medicated painkiller patches on my back which were VERY effective!

I am frustrated with Solo's nearly invisible healing progress, but Dr. Bob assures me it is normal -- the back muscles are huge, 5-6 inches thick and it is a long, slow process. When queried about alternative therapies, such as shockwave, accupuncture, or injections, he maintained that those were most effective for localized areas and would likely have little effect over such a huge zone. Saves me money, but bummer for my mad desire to speed up this process.

I did ask if he thought Solo could be back in the game by September, when I would like to do a Novice HT at the Carolina Horse Park. Dr. Bob thought that was probably realistic, although he might not be back to Training Level jump heights by then, as full recovery varied widely by horse. That at least gave me something to hope for, especially when I told myself, hey, that's only like eleven weeks or so! (That sounds better than three months.)

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I'm Not The Only One Held Together With Tape And Velcro

Well, the MRI verdict is in for my knee as of an hour ago!  The good news:  soft tissue looks good.  The bad news:  both the tibia and fibula have fractured ends.  But they are healing and in another month of wearing the brace, should be set.  I am supposed to do only necessary activities but frankly, I can't see the point of that after I've been walking around on it for the last month while they took their sweet time imaging it.  But I will do my best to avoid super high impact, I suppose.  No falling allowed.  No problem, it's not like I am clumsy or anything. 

On the other hand, as anyone who's ever had one will attest, soft tissue injuries are a bitch.  I've been dutifully massaging Solo's back and stretchy-trotting till he sighs with boredom, but he's still definitely sore in his lumbar area.  So while PT was working on MY back, I hit him up for massage tips.

"You know what," he says, "I'll just come out and tape him!"

OMG, really???!!! Ok, since I know you are thinking, what, are you going to scotch tape your horse back together?, let me clear things up. We are talking about kinesiotape, magical stuff that has been stuck to my back more than once. If you want to read the gory details of how it works, you can do that too. But basically, it lifts the skin and fascia, allowing increased flow of blood and lymph fluid, ostensibly speeding healing and reducing pain in muscles. It has been used on racehorses, but I have not heard much about it's application to sporthorses.

So yeah, I was psyched to hear PT volunteer for this. We gave it a first shot last night, but I discovered in about two minutes that sweaty horse hair is not very sticky. I set out tonight to remove said hair for optimal stickability.

The initial haircut.  SOMEone had his hip cocked when I was cutting around the spine...

Now perhaps I have not mentioned this before, but PT has magical hands. And it's not always good magic. He manages to always poke right onto some spot where you didn't even know you hurt. Well, he had printed out a diagram of equine musculature (that's how awesome he is, because he doesn't usually work on animals) and examined it and then he walks up to Solo and says, "Hey, I bet he's sore right here too," and pokes his finger into the muscle posterior to his flank. Solo's hip dropped like a rock. How does the man do that???

Time to expand the clip job.

Then you just sit back and watch the magic happen.

First, you measure the tape out.

Then you peel it...

Stick it...

And voila!  You are magically taped with magic tape!

I eyed the edges of the tape suspiciously. They were pulling up on the stubby hairs -- my clipper blades would not allow me to cut as close as I had hoped. I could at least nail down the front pieces.

Solo's marvelous vetwrap girdle.

As of the time of my departure tonight, it was still on there, but I suspect it will be gone by the time I get there tomorrow, sigh. Next plan: shave the hair down shorter somehow and give Solo a bath to get rid of ALL the fuzz and dirt! The tape WILL stick, dammit!!

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Not Exactly Horse Related

He limped up to my front porch as I arrived home a few hot Carolina evenings ago.  He had two puncture wounds on either side of his spine from which blood oozed and a big patch of hair had been ripped out.  His entire head was covered in scabbed over wounds and a sizeable piece of one ear was missing.  He looked like he hadn't seen a meal in weeks as he flopped onto the concrete.

Oh crap, I thought. I don't want another cat.

They find me, you see. Cats in need, I mean. It's like some kind of scent trail that leads to my exact location. And I am REALLY tired of cleaning up other people's messes.

Last fall, it was the black and white kitten that someone had literally thrown out of their car window at our office gate. We are the only building on a dead-end interstate service road next to a reservoir and the gate apparently says, "Hey scumbags, please dump your unwanted felines here." His claws and pads lost in asphalt burns, this cuddly young thing had hobbled up to our parking area and was hiding inside a truck engine. He was asleep in my lap in five minutes.

He eventually went to live a pampered life with my technician's mother. Then there was the trio of friendly orange kittens (also pitched by our gate) that I took to my vet's rescue clinic. The same clinic kindly accepted the darling calico I found in a tree outside Pizza Hut (we called her Pepperoni). Another black and white snuggler, dirty and wormy and maybe five weeks old, leaped on my hands from a bush when I stopped to move a box turtle out of the road; he now lives with a co-worker. I am still convinced that one left the turtle out as bait for a soft-hearted sucker like me.

So by the time this torn-up orange tomcat presented himself at my door, yeah, I was sick of having to do the responsible thing because someone else couldn't be bothered.  My bank account certainly had no wiggle room!

I thought (hoped) he might run off and save me the trouble. He looked up at me and started to purr.

Crap.

"Ok, mister," I told him with a sigh. "I can't very well leave you here in 95 degree heat with deep, bleeding punctures and a busted up leg. Here's the deal: if you let me pick you up and take you inside, I will try to help you."

Please run away, please run away, I thought. I have no money and two cats of my own already that I have to protect from god-knows-what diseases you have.

He hung limp in my arms as I scooped him up and unlocked the door. He was a big cat, twice the size of mine, but he weighed next to nothing. As I cautiously opened the door, he caught sight of my cats and I braced myself for the inevitable filleting of my arms which I knew was about to occur.

Nothing. He just hung there and sighed a little.

I put him in my guest bathroom with some water, kibble, and litter. I know he must be starved and dehydrated. He half-heartedly lapped a few sips of water and then climbed into the bathtub and, in two minutes, fell asleep in front of me.

He was so exhausted, he spent the next two days hardly budging from the tub except for the occasional snack and drink. When I came in, he limped over and leaned against me to be petted, his rumbling purr vibrating his whiskers. He was filthy and left brown pawprints all over the tub but I couldn't hold it against him as I raged against the human species who left him to this fate.

He looked like a dog had picked him up and shaken him and it was obvious he had been fighting for his life. He had a mess of worms and nasty ears. But his eyes were clear and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into my lap.

After a day at the vet getting neutered and shot and cleaned and tested, it was clear kitty had magical powers: he could rack up amazing bills without moving a muscle.  When they informed me that he was free of heartworms/feline leukemia/FIV, I was shocked that he'd managed to stay clean.

He's been in my house for two weeks now. Completely submissive, when one of my cats whacked him on the nose, he flopped over on his side and stared at her, simply waiting to be accepted. Last night, he crawled across the bed and laid down at my side. He pressed his back into my ribcage and stretched out, nestling his head into the space between my shoulder and neck. His purrs came faster than he could breathe and I wondered at his ability to love and trust the same animal that dumped him, as he had obviously been a housecat before.

No, this has nothing to do with Solo and little to do with horses, but this cat's story compelled me to share it. So many animals have an amazing capacity to forgive, to give us second and third and fourth chances that we clearly don't deserve. They heal and move on seemingly without a backward thought.

Some stories have a happy ending. This particular orange cat is completely available (you know you want him!) but if no one takes him, he is safe with me. Many more stories don't end so well. The thoughtlessness of the masses is quite content to leave animals of all sorts to the four winds of the fates, no matter how they suffer. After all, who cares what happens, it doesn't affect us, right? I guess not, if you have no soul or compassion at all.

So take a minute, give your lucky animals a hug. And I hope you can find it in you to take your time and money, however scarce or invisible, and offer a bit of help to all those critters out there who need it so badly. Even if it's just clicking our friends at The Animal Rescue Site, the animals need us to step up. Volunteer at your local dog/cat/horse rescue, donate money (even $5 helps), donate stuff you don't use anymore, etc. Because if we don't help them, no one else will.

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Dr. Bob's Magic Fingers

They always find something.

Going in, I knew Solo was struggling with some jumps and in a test ride last night, refusing to lift his back up and engage. In the past, back soreness has pointed to hind leg joint issues. I was expecting stifles, hocks, and needles to be involved in our visit.

To my vast and utter surprise, Solo flexed 100% clean and sound on both hind legs. I have always maintained that this horse would probably never pass a flex test, although I have never done one on him. Given that I know he has some mild hock arthritis and I know he's lopsided, I figured there'd always be a little something there. So my jaw pretty much dropped when he jogged off perfectly every time behind lifeshighway, who was working Amazing Friend duty, jogging my horse in 90 degree heat since I was lame.

Dr. Bob poked and prodded and then sent Solo and I into the round pen to demonstrate our free lunging skills. Which was fine till he wanted to see the canter. I eventually had to give up and redneck it bareback and barefoot with the halter to get the shiny beast to canter those tiny circles.

Good news: joints are fine. Clean, even, and moving well in all gaits. Dr. Bob was wowed by Solo's muscle condition and suspension when he moved. I basked a little.

Less than good, but not as bad as expected news: the problem appears to be deep muscle pulls in the large muscles of his back and hips. Likely cause, the too-short stadium warmup in VA. Muscle cells damaged in a pull turn into scar tissue, which must gradually be broken down and worked out.  If I want, we can go down to the vet school and play with MRI's, thermography, and all their goodies.  I snorted -- as if I have any money left at this point! -- and said, would it change our course of action?  Response:  probably not.  Ok then.

Rx: Start slow, with lots of stretching, bute, and light, stretchy works under saddle. After every ride, deep massage sore muscles with liniment or witch hazel/vinegar/water combo. Slowly incorporate long, stretchy trot, ground poles, then tiny cross rails and build back up from there.

I can't jump right now anyway till the knee is fixed, so we can take our time. Which is why I took him in when I did anyway -- all competition pressure is removed and all I HAVE to do at this point is keep him in condition.

So with some time and a lot of help from dear friends who I couldn't live without, the prognosis is good for a healed Solo!

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I'm Going To Buy One Of Those Cool Magneto Helmets

Only if it comes with a cape. I guess if you are not as big a dork as me, you won't get that reference though. But I DO get another trip to the MRI though. Wheee, giant magnet fun. Yup, the knee has earned me another pass on that ridiculously expensive thrill ride. *sigh*

In the mean time, Solo and I will go visit Dr. Bob tomorrow and see if we can winnow out a reason for his reluctance to jump sweet jumps.  The shiny beast is still out on the trail, we have to stay in shape, after all.

I fantasize about what it would be like if life went back to normal. 

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Yay, I Love Spending Money!

Did you notice the sarcasm font?

Oh, Solo.

See, I get a little crazy when I can't ride. Ok, I get a lot crazy. I get all balled up inside like a coiled up spring in a too-small container, all bursting at the edges with frustration and other pent-up emotions.

I longed Solo last night and got some beautiful work at the trot and canter. He fought me a bit on the left lead canter, but this isn't unusual.

I had to get on him tonight. I HAD to. I'd tried to ride in the dressage saddle on Wednesday, but it hurt too much. So I hopped on bareback this evening. Not too bad. Definitely able to do more than with feet in stirrups, thank goodness. Don't tell my orthopedist. Hey, it's gotta be lower impact than walking!

A few transitions, ok, everything feels pretty good. Let's do a couple little jumps.

The bugger stopped. S.T.O.P.P.E.D. Twice. We rode through it (Damn, you stick good when you're jumping bareback. It's funny how having no options will improve your position in a heartbeat!) but I'm not happy.

This horse is not a stopper. Yeah, he stopped at VA, he was tired, those were looky jumps, ok. But a crossrail? Uh-uh. Something's not right. I can play mental games and say, well, last time he jumped, I fell off and we had to walk out of the ring so maybe it messed with his head a little.

Maybe. But that's an awfully complex argument. And it's a CROSSRAIL. And his left lead canter did feel a little funny and resistant.

So next on the agenda, after checking tomorrow to see if there is ulcer pain (psssh, not like he's had any stress in the past week of doing...nothing) call Dr. Bob on Monday and have him check everything out. Whee. Hey, why the hell not, I'm already paying my own medical bills, why not throw a vet bill in for good measure!!

I love horses. I swear. I do. Really.

Hey, at least Pete and Solo are enjoying themselves.

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Thank You

I wanted to express my deepest gratitude for each of your comments and emails regarding Smokey.  The thoughtfulness and compassion that I have observed has taken me quite by surprise and my appreciation is immeasurable.

Smokey was a very special girl who touched an uncountable number of lives with her always-dry nose. It tore me in two to drive home from the farm with an empty truck, leaving her behind, which she always hated the most. But I see her everywhere I go and feel her huge presence in everything I do. All I can do is hope that she is enjoying her rest in the shade overlooking the spring grass and a serenade of chorus frogs.

As for Solo, he is relishing newly sprouting Bermuda grass during a few days off following his hock injections. We'll hack out on Saturday if the storms hold off and then it's down to Southern Pines for a big cross country school with David on Sunday.

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Who Said Horse Owners Weren't Creative

Once Solo finishes his 14 day regimen of daily omeprazole later this week, he graduates to ranitidine. Dr. Bob merrily handed me this big jug of pills and says, "Here, give him 5 of these with each meal."

I look at pills. I look at Dr. Bob. Because horses are so easy to give pills to. Especially shiny, picky, food-snob horses who don't even like peppermints. I open the jug and sniff suspiciously. Dr. Bob watches me with great puzzlement.

"Do I have to crush them up then?" I ask warily. "Because Solo is not going to eat these voluntarily."

"Sure!" he says as if this is all no big deal.  As if now I don't have to come up with some ingenious plan which involves my BO not having to crush horse pills every time she feeds and Solo not snuffling out the medication into a neat little pile left in the corner of his feed bin.

My last experience with crushing horse pills (aside from SMZ's which dissolve so nicely in water) was watching lifeshighway with a bowl and a hammer and a strategically placed paper towel, banging away on a daily basis. I am committed to go to any lengths necessary not to engage in this particular activity.

I go home and check with SmartPak, who, much to my delight, will not only grind it up for me, but add yummy flavours! Yay for no work for me!

But for the next month, it's me. And the jug. And five fat yellow pills per meal.

Ho ho, nasty pills, I am tricksier than you thought! Enter my compatriot, Mr. Pill Crusher and his strong, inescapable jaws! Combine that with a little tape, some empty SmartPaks, and my favourite sharpie...

And VOILA!! I emerge victorious!! One neat little package for each meal.

Just one more day I escape my BO's hatred at feeding time...

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