Hello reality

Every parents worst nightmare

I would just like to say that sometimes reality is, well, too real.

August has been a heck of a month--starting very first thing with the dog who attacked Steve and Kyle and ending up with my daughter in ICU thanks to a rude and unruly horse. (NOT one of ours!)

Thankfully, everyone is okay. Actually, the dog that attacked Kyle and Steve is a little too okay and was spotted off-leash again just last weekend. Really? Because I'm sure that dog will never again attack another dog because its owners are too damn lazy to hook a leash to its collar. People really annoy me.

And there may even be a horse or two that annoys me--one in particular comes to mind right now.

I wrote about some of the trials and tribulations of August for our horses and for Katie in this post on the Neigh Savers blog, but I did not write as a parent. I did not write about how terrifying it is to be able to do nothing but hope and pray for your child to heal, about wanting to trade places with her, please, just let her be okay.

Just over two weeks ago, Katie was at work leading a trail ride. The horse she was on took exception to her holding him back and reared, going over backwards. He started to step on her and she got out from under him but he nailed her in the left thigh as she stood up. She went to the ER that day and was discharged with some pain killers after a CT of her head showed no injury and x-rays of her pelvis and femur came back clean.

A few days later, though, all was not well. Her leg was swollen down to the ankle and so was her abdomen. We got her in to see a doctor and when they discovered a slight fever, we were sent for a CT of her abdomen and an ultrasound of her leg.

Lots of time spent in waiting rooms with a kid too big to hold and rock in my lap.

The ultrasound revealed a clot that went from knee to groin and we went directly to the ER. Apparently, Katie told the tech not to freak me out. It is a good thing I have learned to panic only when appropriate, though I really wanted sirens on the Miata. Lots of sirens. Get the heck out of my way sirens, as a matter of fact.

Through it all, Katie maintained a sense of humor and strength--even when faced with multiple IVs throughout the day followed by all her parents crammed in one tiny room in the ER. Tough chick.

Because the clot was so large, they were going to put a tube in that vein that would deliver blood thinners directly onto the clot and aspirate it at the same time. It was an awesome plan but it ran into a complication upon execution when they found a bleed in her abdomen. You can't very well introduce blood thinners when there is internal bleeding, nor can you stop a bleed with clotting medicines when you already have a clot.

They wheeled her up to ICU and started giving her blood, the first goal being to stabilize her and stop the bleeding so they could start the blood thinners. Her dad and I both offered to get hooked right up to her (I'm a perfect match) but apparently the blood bank is in good shape and they didn't need us. The doctor may have thought we were a little weird. He was probably right.

Katie spent six days in the hospital, half of it in ICU. She will be on blood thinners at least another three months, but has tentatively been cleared to ride (walk and trot only) in two weeks.

She is extremely lucky and she knows it. The bruise that extended down her entire thigh just last week is nearly invisible. She is young and healthy and doing a pretty good job of taking it easy and caring for herself.

The desire to pack her up in bubble wrap may fade in time, but only because I wouldn't want her to do it to me. And I know she's wanted to more than once.

Hello reality. Thank you for reminding me what's really important and what 's really fluff and nonsense.

Where Katie will be again--and hopefully soon

Forrest gives us a scare

Horses have the reputation of being, well, horses and hurting themselves doing dumb things.

We have had a few minor instances with Calabar and Lena, but Forrest did a good job Friday of reminding us all that sometimes horses do goofy things and pay the price for it. Of course, Katie had to pay the price for it, too. She's going to be working to pay off vet bills for quite awhile--with the joys of horse-ownership come glorious pitfalls as well.

The day ended normally enough, even on time for once. I was packing up to leave the office when my phone rang. Steve told me Forrest had gotten hung up in his gate and opened up his fetlock badly enough that Peter thought we needed to call the vet. Peter is not an alarmist, not by any stretch of the imagination, so when he says to call the vet it's time to call the vet.

I called and texted Katie and headed to the barn to see what damage had been wrought.

Forrest had been pawing while waiting for his grain and managed to get his fetlock joint caught in the lower inside corner of the gate, right below the hinge. The hinge wedged it in so well, Steve couldn't pull it free and neither could Peter. This naturally led to anxiety and struggles from Forrest, until he fell backwards and managed to pull his leg free himself. It probably wasn't pretty, but at least he was free. By the time I got there, his right front fetlock was bloody and swollen and he was lame on the leg.

Katie got there and we called our vet only to find she was away for the weekend. And why is it that horses don't hurt themselves during regular business hours, anyway?

Leslie had, as always, left the number for a substitute who told Katie to cold-hose the leg while we waited.

Because of the type of injury, how it happened, and where it was, the vet recommended an x-ray to rule out any severe bone or joint damage. I'd have taken pictures of the cool set up, but I was wearing my own lead apron and holding Forrest at the time. Plus, Katie was afraid the news would be dire and didn't really want photo documentation.

Dire would have been if there had been severe bone damage (there wasn't), or if the joint had been damaged (it wasn't), but x-rays and then a joint tap gave us good news. The options for treatment had there been separation in the joint or significant bone damage are too expensive for us to consider, so Forrest could have ended up as a very young pasture ornament. Luckily and to all our relief, he has other things in his future. Like daily leg wraps, four weeks off, including at least one week of stall rest.

Forrest says he was framed and when can he come out? Jail is no fun! I told him it was his own dumb fault, so suck it up.



The plus side is his fetlock joint in general is in fine shape--especially for a horse off the track--and I got so see some really cool field veterinary technology!

Pets (and our horses are definitely pets) are wonderful and add so much to life. They do, however, sometimes take big chunks out of your wallet in the process. That is part of the lesson, part of the responsibility.

Time to think

This latest experience has not only given me plenty of time to contemplate the things Bar and I need to work on, but has resulted in lots of support and advice from both my local and online horse communities. The advice has ranged from putting him out to retirement, to more ground work, training and lessons for both of us, and even talking to an animal communicator to determine what the trigger was that has him suddenly acting out after a year of good work and progress.

At the moment, the only option I'm not looking at is the retirement one.

Honestly, I get it. Something has to change with this horse and me because I can't keep getting hurt. But walking away from him jangles wrongness against every nerve in my body, and even my practical side can't ignore the gut feeling digging it's heels in against the wrong path. I guess that makes me crazy or stubborn or both, but he's mine.

We've been doing ground work all along and both Katie and Steve are skeptical that it will help to do more, but I continue to believe in it--especially right now. I've also realized the ground work I've been doing hasn't been as effective as it could be for a lot of reasons, all of it snowballing to our current state of affairs.

There is no question in my mind Bar and I both need more training. I've got a couple options, both at my current barn and with a trainer Katie used to work for. I haven't decided which is the better choice, yet. The latter would mean moving Bar for at least a month to a new barn, which might help him with his herd-bound-ness with Lena, but might also mean time lost to settle into new surroundings, only to move back again. The former is more convenient for us, and while convenience shouldn't be the top priority, his training could start now before I can get back to riding--probably a good thing.

I also haven't necessarily ruled out an animal communicator, and have two good references to fall back on. Yes, I know it sounds a little out there (I am from Berkeley, after all), but if all else fails, it would be interesting to hear what they had to say--frankly, I'm also incredibly curious about this field.

However, I suspect there are things I already know. The last six months have not only been icky, cold and rainy, I've been busy and distracted by my job. Even when I would take time to work with Bar, I was not necessarily present or challenging him in ways that went beyond keeping his body loose. In other words, I wasn't working his big brain or building on our relationship, I was circling him in the round pen just to get him out, getting on him bareback some, and not even doing that as often as he needed.

Six months ago, he would tolerate my sloppy, often out-of-balance, posting. He would stop when I shot too far forward and let me adjust myself, sighing softly as I did so. He would give me a nice relaxed canter and slow to a trot simply when I shifted my weight. Again, I was not doing this particularly gracefully, but he cooperated. He listened. He didn't argue.

There began to be little signs. Not standing at the mounting block for me, grabbing at the lead rope when I'd loop it over his head to ride him bareback, not actually nipping but making the motions when I'd do some of our ground work exercises (especially side-passing). I'd correct him, but not aggressively, and keep doing what I was doing with him, figuring that was enough. Gradually, I noticed a bit of a disconnect between us. Where he used to follow me all over the arena, he didn't anymore. When I would stop him in the round pen, he would turn and face me, but not come in to me. Hindsight, of course, is slapping me on the forehead at this point.

Since I got hurt, we've only had a few supervised exercise sessions, but the last one I handled on my own after Steve brought Fuzz-Meister down to the round pen. Every one of the last few times I've worked him, he's been gentle around me, respectful, and watchful. (And I don't think it was just the scary crutches.) Yesterday he worked his little heart out, and came in to me when I stopped him, but stayed out of my bubble when I held up my hand. He side-passed willingly and backed softly and never once hinted at nipping. I was tougher with him, and clearer in my commands and expectations. He was responsive, though it took him a little longer to relax than it used to, but he seemed calmer and happier at the end of it all, too.

Our journey forward depends on many moving parts, parts that need to learn to synchronize with each other. My seat needs work, his manners definitely need work, and training is a must for both of us--I know this. But I can't forget to listen, to actually pay attention to what is going on with him, and then react quickly, decisively, and consistently within the energy of the moment. That may be easier said than done for awhile, but the pieces of the puzzle are all there--we just need to put them together.

Hurt and feeling dumb

No, not taken yesterday, though it could have been

I had another tumble off Bar yesterday and it has left me very sore and, worse, feeling pretty dumb. Not only am I nursing a bruised back and strained muscles, I'm stuck inside on a beautiful, sunny spring day with nothing to do but reevaluate the training of this big, brown, opinionated horse.

Ironically enough, it is nearly exactly a year since I came off Lena and broke my arm. Luckily, nothing is broken this time, but the circumstances are similar in one way--I let him get too far out of bounds. Not necessarily that exact instant, but it's been building up bit by bit over the last few months.

Some of it is probably the lack of consistency in working him over the last six months. He had been really good when he was getting regular attention and input, but would still act up a little bit here and there. I would correct him most of the time, but I don't think I was always clear enough with the correction. Or tough enough, if you want the honest truth. With the lapse in his training, there was the obvious side-effect of additional testing from him and my more gentle corrections were brushed off like flies.

I've said before that it's a delicate balance with him--it's very easy to over-correct, especially if I'm scared or mad. But it would appear I've gone a little too far the other way. "Oh, that wasn't so bad, I'll just ride through it."

The thing is, I don't tolerate that behavior in people. Mostly, if you do something to me once, I'll let it go, but if you do the same ugly thing, I'm just not very soft and forgiving. People don't generally have drastic personality transplants, and neither do horses.

The other piece of this is I haven't always pushed him up to and past his point of frustration so we could work through it and build on what we're doing. If he was doing what I asked, I'd stop there, not offer him any challenge, and therefore neither of us was learning. Again, some of that was time, some of it was fear. How much could I push him before he'd act out and could I handle it if he did? Part of me knows knows I can handle him having sat through many a spin. Part of me is feeling a little beat up at the moment.

I was so sore yesterday, I could not get back on him immediately, but Katie took over and worked him hard. I did get back on when she was done and walk him out, though the charlie horse in my right hip made it very difficult to kick and my pelvis was so sore I could barely direct him forward, but I did it. Steve says I have no business on a horse for the next few days and he's probably right. Tomorrow should be even more fun, and driving the Miata is out of the question because of the strain in my left (clutch foot) hip flexor.

But if I want this horse to be the horse I know he can be, I have to get back on and redraw those boundaries. He can do it. I can too.

I might even forgive myself once I can walk without limping again, once I can climb in that saddle and give him the input he needs to release the good horse hiding inside. I love him too much, have worked with him so hard, to give up on either of us.

The day of truth approacheth

Okay, really just the day my two ulna bones go back to being one ulna bone. With the help of some titanium hardware and a surgeon.

Tomorrow is the big day--check in is at 10:45 a.m. and, no, I have no idea how long this will take. From my perspective, it will probably not seem long at all between falling asleep and waking up with a new scar and some different device on my arm.

I tried to convince the anesthesiologist to let me watch, but it was a no-go.

Am I nervous? A little. Do I see another realistic option? Not really. The bones are still moving in there and while they might heal if I kept still long enough, the concept of being less mobile than I have been and wearing a cast for even longer just doesn't work for me. At all.

I'm sure if I'd been a 15-year old boy, they would have slapped a plate in there immediately--both because I was still growing and because, well, most 15-year old boys don't hold still any better than I do.

I think they need to examine their statistics around horse people, though. Really? You fell off a horse? Oh, and it was a horse you own? Yeah, plate this one up pronto.

Honestly? I'm more worried about the side effects from the drugs than the surgery itself. They are supposed to be adding anti-nausea drugs to the cocktail, but we'll see.

More later, including gory pictures and x-rays if I can get them.

Too soon to be bored of this?

I can appreciate that healing takes time and that the itching has just begun, but what will cross my mind the next time (and there will be a next time) I start to fall off is the loss of time.

I need to work with Lena, even just on the ground, to figure out how to better predict her actions. I need to be hand-walking Bar right now to get his knee back in shape--and really just to spend that quiet time with him.

Unfortunately, work is busy (new business unit I'm currently attempting to organize) and I'm so tired at days end from that and from carrying around my broken arm, there isn't much left for the horses. Well, there is some, but not enough to necessarily protect myself from further injury when dealing with bouncy horses.

I've had several offers of help and I may even consider it if I can't find more energy in the next day or so, but I'd prefer to tend my own horses. I'm goofy that way, I know.

So that's what I'll be thinking of the very next time falling off looms--I've just got too much to do and no time for this broken-ness.

Dubious milestone

I have now crossed one more thing off my list of horse-related (and life, actually) experiences--I broke my arm yesterday, mostly because I forgot just how fast Lena Rey can move sideways.

Steve and I had run some errands in Santa Rosa, had lunch, and he dropped me off at the barn to tend horses and ride Lena. The truck was still there from the other day when Katie went out (though she had left the keys on and completely--and I mean two-sets-of-jumper-cables-needed completely--drained the battery) so Steve didn't have to hang around and I could spend all the time I wanted with the horses.

It didn't quite work out that way.

I really wanted to use the English saddle on Lena and work on her long trot, canter circles, and my seat. We were going along really well, and I was even getting some nice side-pass work out of her at the trot. She seems very responsive to the close contact of the English saddle, too.

Lena is very strong and athletic, and can move sideways and spin in a dime. Since I hadn't ridden her in awhile it might have been better to put the Western saddle on her, since I am still working on my seat and balance in the English, but you know what they say about hindsight.

She did a couple of spins I managed to ride through and a sideways I didn't. I slid off her right side, tucked, landed on my right hip (okay, right butt cheek), rolled to my left and must have smacked the ground hard with my forearm.

Lena bounced off to the other end of the arena to eat the grass I had previously denied her. At first, cradling my sore arm against my stomach, I was determined to get back on--which I told her in no uncertain terms. We even made it back to the mounting block before I felt something shift in my forearm--one of the odder sensations I've ever had, thank you very much. Then came the shockiness and nausea and I decided I would have to teach her a lesson another time. She did have the grace to act solicitous at that point, nuzzling me as the cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

My friend Lisa was just getting back in her truck to go home, but helped me untack Lena, take my fancy riding boots off, and hung out until Steve got there to take me to Kaiser. I was not very talkative, since lunch was trying to revisit, but I was sure glad someone was there with me.

Kaiser had me in, x-rayed, and splinted in about 2-1/2 hours, which for a non-life-threatening injury seems pretty good. The staff was great, too.

The x-rays show a pretty clean fracture of the ulna (yes, I'll be getting copies). The orthopedic doctor will be calling after they decide whether to put in a plate (surgery) or just a more substantial cast.

Oh, and I'm supposed to stay off the horses for six weeks. Katie (who is still mad at me for falling off) seems skeptical that I will manage that.

I admit to being vaguely amused by all of this, though I'm sure my amusement will fade as the novelty of my first "real" broken bone wears off. It occurred to me that Bar and I match, though I hope he heals much faster than I do.

And, yes, I typed this whole post with one hand tied. Or splinted anyway.

No pictures, either, until I can engineer a shower of some kind.

Mystery Horse Injuries

When we got back from our hail-filled trail ride yesterday and put the horses away, we noticed Lena's right eye was a little swollen. It didn't seem to be bothering her, nor did we see any obvious trauma, so Katie promised to check on it today and we went home.

Really, I tried not to worry too much.

Katie got there today and it is still swollen, though not as badly, and there isn't any discharge coming from it. She sent me pictures, though, to try and prevent the worry from increasing.

It's only slightly working, only because Katie will check on it tomorrow and let me know if it looks worse.

What caused it? Who knows. Maybe she got hit in the eye by the hail. Maybe she poked it while sticking her nose back in the trailer window from the outside to grab Bar's hay. Maybe she bonked it while rubbing on something.

Steve asked if I fretted this much about Katie when she was growing up. Um, no, actually not. "Is it bleeding? No? Then you're fine." Not really sure what turned me into such a "Mom" when it comes to the horses, but it appears to be permanent.

Vacation and mysterious injuries

Steve and I went down to Southern California for Thanksgiving to see family, so the horses were on their own for three days. Not totally on their own, of course--one of the benefits of boarding is actually being able to be away--but definitely lacking in their normal amount of attention.

Usually, Katie can tend them, but with the holiday and her work schedule, she couldn't get up here.

It used to be a major issue (okay, just for me) to leave them--mainly because of that first bad colic of Lena's after we'd left for a day--but it's much better these days. Peter will do what's necessary and it's best to try and let go of the worry that might actually perpetuate bad things happening.

And it works, for the most part.

Both horses looked fine and healthy when we got there today, though to hear them tell it they were STARVED, having missed their extra grain for those three days. Starved.

On closer examination, however, Lena had a cut on the inside of her left hind at the hock. Maybe she kicked herself, maybe she got it caught somewhere, who knows? It was a little swollen, not infected but pretty tender to the touch and obviously sore. I cleaned it out and Steve took her down to the round pen just to be sure she was moving okay. She was, so he got on and rode her gently while I worked the monster in the round pen.

Actually, Bar needs a new nickname because he continues to improve and respond in much less monstrous ways every day.

He should have been wild since he'd been off for several days and it was cool and breezy, but he was actually pretty good--even with the distraction of another racehorse in the indoor arena with him. He got a little goofy, but stayed (mostly) focused and on task, and got a good workout. When told he was well on his way to ruining his crazy racehorse image, his answer was to lean in and smooch me.

Lena will get checked again tomorrow, and both of them will get ridden. There are also plenty of carrots, so starvation will be staved off for yet another day.

Back in the saddle

Steve announced to me last night that he was going to ride his horse today, and I admit to a tiny bit of anxiety on my part.

Maybe more than a tiny bit--it's only been a month since the accident, after all.

But life, as some of us know, is too short not to live and Steve really missed riding his horse. I had to trust that he did indeed feel well enough to get back on Lena and ride. I also have a lot of faith in Lena's sensitivity to her rider

So, off to the barn we went, and it all turned out okay.



I had to stop watching and go work Bar, lest my own anxiety eat me alive and become too obvious to either the horses or Steve. Okay, they all knew anyway, but at least I didn't hover.

Trail riding adventures wherein Bar impresses Katie

Katie and I took the horses out to Armstrong Redwoods again and ended up having quite a bit more adventure and challenge than we anticipated. And at the end of it all, Katie admitted Bar had both impressed her and gained a level of trust with her none of us quite expected.

We headed up East Ridge trail, like Steve and I had before, but instead of turning around at the bridge and fire road, Katie and I kept heading up the trail. It was a beautiful day and the horses were feeling strong and healthy. We did stop to let Bar rest a little, but he seemed pretty happy and nothing seemed to be bothering him except not being in front.



We got to the top of the ridge and had a spectacular view all the way down to the coast. We kept going up the trail a little ways, found a nice redwood grove (which Lena fertilized), and Katie and I were enjoying the sun, the horses, and the trail immensely.



We got to a narrow spot on the trail that had a trickle of water and some mud and Lena balked a little bit over the scary mud, so Katie had to work with her to get her to go forward. All of a sudden, Bar dropped his head down and started rubbing his face on his front legs and tossing his head up and down. I looked down and saw a swarm of yellow jackets flying around his head, going for his eyes and nostrils. I looked up at Katie and Lena, still in front of us on the trail, and said "Go!!" Katie looked at me a little confused, hesitated for only a split second, then urged Lena up the trail. We kept moving, me talking to Bar the whole time, until we were well past the nest and I could get off and check him out. Katie said she saw him rubbing his head on a tree, then tossing his head, and thought he had gotten his bridle caught on something. When I told her to "go" she couldn't figure out what was going on--knowing Bar hates to have Lena too far away from him--but recognized the insistence in my tone of voice and responded.

It could have been a train wreck. Bar and Lena both could have taken off up that narrow trail at a gallop, not paying any attention to either of us. But they didn't. He heard me the whole time, reacting to both my voice and my body, and stopping as soon as Katie and I felt like we were a safe enough distance away to check him out and figure out what to do next. I'd gotten stung, too, but just once, and had watched one yellow jacket work its way out of Bar's mane as we trotted up the trail to safety. Ugh.

Going back the way we came wasn't really an option, so we headed up the trail and ended up at the Bullfrog Pond campground, with what looked like a paved road as our only way down again. So, as a ranger drove by, I stopped and asked if there was another way and she recommended East Pool Trail, so we headed down the road with me walking Bar and Katie riding Lena, until we found the trail head. Which was downhill off the road. With steep stairs and steep slopes next to the stairs. Not to mention horses and riders that were already pretty tired.

But, what goes up must come down, so down we headed, on one of the most challenging trails I've been on. This trail would have been tough for me as a seasoned hiker, let alone an ex-racehorse still working on his downhill trail skills. It was was steep, narrow, and slippery in places. There were waterbars across the trail with foot-high drops to negotiate. It might not have been so bad coming up the trail, especially when we were all fresher, but it is definitely not your run-of-the mill trail in either direction. Downhill being tougher for horses than up, however, the difficulty was definitely ratcheted up a few nerve-wracking levels. Maybe seven.

And it wasn't just physically challenging, there were mental hurdles to get past, too. We got to a switchback over what is probably a creek in the rainy season which not only had a bridge (well, planks over the gully), but also had yellow caution tape to keep you on the narrow bridge. Katie and I both took a deep breath. Lena hates yellow caution tape. Katie had to use a little extra encouragement to get Lena over it (spurs, that is), but over she went, snorting the whole way, with Bar right behind her.

Did Bar get grumpy? Did he rush or do anything that made our journey more dangerous? Nope. He carefully negotiated every obstacle and kept going, one foot in front of the other. Every now and then he'd slip--they both did--and he'd stop for a second to make sure his long legs were still firmly underneath him before moving forward again.

Finally, though, the length and strain of the ride started to take their toll on him and he started to stumble a little more than I was comfortable with so I got off and walked next to him the rest of the way down. I noticed he was favoring his right hind, too, like he had a hitch in his hip, so he and I took it nice and slow down to the picnic area. He got to see me slip and slide a couple of times, too. Definitely not an easy trail for horse or human.



But we made it. And both horses performed above and beyond what we've ever asked them to do before on one of the most challenging trails we've ever been on.

Best of all, Katie agreed that Bar is not as crazy as she thought he was. At least not on the trail. He impressed her, and that's hard to do.

I am just glad we all made it through--even if some of us are a little sore today-- and that I got to experience such an interesting adventure with my horses and my daughter.

Life is pretty good, I'd say.

Yes, folks, riding horses can be risky

We all know this, or we think we know it, and then sometimes it smacks us right in the face. Or in Steve's case, the shoulder.

Saturday, after I bought the cutest white Miata in the world and went to show it to my dad, I got home, Steve and I went to a late lunch at Sushi Hana, then to the barn to ride. I have not let Steve ride Bar in a really long time and decided I was going to let go of my control-freakiness and allow it and just see what happened.

Poo happened, but not because Bar was acting up at all. In fact, he was being really good, really responsive and cooperative, and things were going along really well--plus I was having a great ride on Lena.

I was by the gate of the big outdoor arena and turned around just in time to see Bar and Steve turn, trip, and go down in a big puff of dust. Bar got up and immediately came over to Lena and me. I got her settled down, heard Bill settling his horse down, got off Lena, and turned around to see Steve lying prone on the ground on his back, not moving. Bill got off his horse and called out for help and headed out of the arena. I got our two horses calmed down and called to Steve, who was laying way too still.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he started to sit up and the three of us headed over there. The horses started to bicker and I backed them both up and told them in uncertain terms that it was not the time for that and they settled immediately. When we got over to Steve, they both wanted to get in closer to see why he was on the ground, but I wouldn't let them. There was someone there, a friend of one of the boarders, who was a nurse and she came out and checked him out. He fell on his right shoulder and was really sore there, but it didn't seem like anything was broken because he could move his arm and squeeze his hand.

Carlyne and Bill came to help with my horses at that point, so I let Carlyne take Lena and I took Bar up to put them away. Bill and the nurse and several other people stayed with Steve, who managed to be on his feet when the ambulance and firetrucks got there. (Thank you, Forestville Fire Department!)

Steve was coherent, though a little out of it and obviously in pain, and didn't want to go the hospital, so he and I went home. His first question to me? "How is Bar?" Bar seemed to be fine, though Steve was really disappointed that this had to happen while things were going so well in the arena.



Once we got home, he alternated between resting prone and upright until about 9:30, and then he tried to get up and threw up. Hm. I checked his pupils, and they were fine. He was tracking well with both eyes and said his head didn't hurt, he was just really dizzy. Did he want to go to the hospital, yet? No.

So we slept on the sofa, both of us, me waking up to check on him periodically and help him with blankets and pillow angles, until the next morning when he could not get up at all--even to go to the bathroom--because his vertigo was so bad.

He had me call the ambulance and the first crew to show up was our guys from Forestville again. They didn't lecture him, and in fact say it is very common--particularly with men (no offense, guys)--to get a second call in a case like this.

So Steve and I spent all day yesterday in Kaiser's ER, then they finally admitted him because he still couldn't sit up, let alone get into a car. He's still there and they did find a vertigo medicine that seems to be working, though he's still pretty shaky and hasn't tried to stand up, yet.

The vertigo is what's keeping him there, and it's probably caused by a mild concussion. He had a CT scan and his brain is fine, no bleeding or issues there, which is obviously very good news. He did manage to fracture his scapula, four ribs, and his collar bone. One of the nurses told him "nice job" today. He won't take any pain meds, though, because he says it doesn't hurt that badly unless he coughs or sneezes, and because most of the normal meds make him too sick and he doesn't figure that's a good idea at the moment.

The lesson is two-fold. Anything can happen, even on a good day, and going to the hospital initially might have been a good plan. But.. hindsight, as they say, is 20-20.

Since Steve is my editor, he isn't here to point out typos or where things could be worded smoother, so I apologize if this post isn't as clear as usual. I'm also eating grilled cheese for dinner because, well, it's about all I know how to cook.

And I miss him, but am glad he seems to be on the mend and really glad it wasn't more serious.

AND--thank you to Randee for the iPhone photo documentation on top of calling 911!