It was a Saturday morning…early. I was planning on spending the day caring for my grandchildren while their mom and dad had a little time to themselves. I was looking forward to it. I love spending time with my grandsons….until I got the text at 6:35 am. “Colic morning…called the vet and walking him.” The words settled like cement in my stomach. They are the scariest words a horse owner can hear….or read.
“Easy,” my 21-year-old gelding was on lease with a wonderful family in Peyton, Colorado – a two-and-a-half-hour drive from our home in Loveland. My sister, cousin, myself, and a group of friends had just returned from a horseback riding excursion at Ft. Robinson State Park in Nebraska just days earlier. Easy and my mare, Annie had made the trip with us. After a day’s rest, Easy returned to Peyton, Colorado for another two-month lease. His Peyton family had enjoyed him so much while leasing him for the last five-and-a-half months, prior to our Nebraska adventure, that they asked if they could finish the summer with him. He was earning blue ribbons at their local gymkhanas, and Tony was achieving his goal of regaining confidence in the saddle again after a twenty-year hiatus. Easy was just the horse to get him there.
That Saturday morning, the colic morning, unraveled in a series of panicked moments and poor attempts at self-soothing. I kept thinking, “In a couple of hours I’ll get the news that he’s fine. A little Banamine, some walking, and he’ll be back to normal.” But I was also tortured by my own thoughts, “The travel was too much for him. The Nebraska heat and long trail rides were too much for him. I didn’t give him enough time to rest between trips. “
The texts kept rolling in, “Worst one so far…discharge from the nose. Waiting on the vet.” Discharge from nose!? I’ve owned horses for 16 years and hadn’t experienced such a thing. Was he choking? I’ve seen discharge from the nostrils of horses that were choking. “No interest in food or water….vet is here.” Thank God! “Overly full bladder (something else I had never heard of)…..tubing him to take pressure off stomach….lots of fluid … indicates a blockage ….. surgical issue … antibiotics …. inflammation …twist in the upper bowel…..” No! Not a twist! “Specialist….abdominal probe…possible twist in the small intestine.” The word “twist” again. “Colic surgery …. fluids … antibiotics.” The words were dizzying. Then came the call from the vet. She confirmed everything Tony had communicated via text. “Blockage …. fluids… antibiotics.” She would be back tomorrow to follow up.
I had to see him. Get dressed. What would I wear? Silly question at a time like this. My concern wasn’t for fashion but rather what t-shirt do I want to be wearing when I say good-bye to The. Best. Horse. Ever. IF I have to say good-bye. Should I choose one I don’t really like because I’ll likely never wear it again? Or should I choose a “special” one?
Dressed and in the car. My husband, exhausted from the previous week’s work and looking forward to a day off completely switched his mindset, gobbled down some breakfast, showered, and kicked me out of the driver’s seat. The drive was quiet. No texts or calls from Tony or the vet. My husband and I talked briefly about how Easy was going to be ok, about how we could maybe enjoy a day in Colorado Springs after visiting Easy and seeing for ourselves that he was fine.
Tony and his wife, Mary were completely accommodating, expecting our visit. Against the beautiful backdrop of Peyton, Colorado stood Easy, but not in his best character. Tony and Mary had kept a close eye on him since the vet left and reported that he had seemed to perk up. Upon our arrival, however, he began to decline…quickly. Pawing the ground, wanting to lie down and roll, and the fluid….from his nose….had returned…in grotesque quantities. Confused and out of sorts myself, the next several minutes were a whirlwind of phone calls, decision making, and action. He would be transported to Littleton Large Animal Clinic, but not before a stop at Rocky Mountain Equine to get him tubed again so his stomach wouldn’t rupture. Thanks to the quick actions of Tony, Mary, my husband, and myself Easy was transported first to Rocky Mountain Equine where a veterinarian and her assistant were waiting in the driveway with a tube and a bucket to empty the fluid from Easy’s abdominal cavity. After responsibly communicating the financial commitment we would have to make to his medical treatment they then rushed us off to Littleton Large Animal Clinic where four veterinarians descended on him with needles, tubes, I.V’s and the like. Ultrasound. Belly tap. Blood work revealed extremely high kidney levels and white blood cell counts. Nothing, however, revealed the cause of Easy’s severely compromised condition. Finances were discussed again in consideration of his medical management, and the decision to admit him to ICU was made. They would re-hydrate him with fluids, monitor his blood work, and provide 24-hour care while we prayed, hoped, and waited for his status to improve. The night ended with the vet’s words ringing in my ears, “He is very, very sick, and we are very, very worried about him.” My heart was as heavy as stone.
A close friend generously extended his hospitality and offered us the guest room in his home. It was much closer than Loveland, and we graciously accepted as we did not know what news if any, the night would hold. The vet assured us that, “No news is good news.” I held fast to that promise, drifting in and out of sleep with my phone by my side…..though NOT wanting my phone to ring or buzz with a notification.
Sunday morning arrived with no phone call or text from the vet. That was the good news. She did call with an update, informing me that Easy’s state had not really improved overnight. He was still re-fluxing large amounts of fluid which made it difficult to hydrate him and get him stabilized.
Visiting hours were limited, and though I knew I wouldn’t make it in time for the morning time slot I readied myself for an afternoon visit, not sure what it would reveal. I willingly gave my husband the day off. He had been such a trooper through this whole thing, and he really needed the day to rest. A little nervous to face the situation on my own, I reached out to my sister who gladly accepted the invitation to come see the trusty steed who was her reliable mount in Nebraska just one week prior to this tragic event. She was happy to offer comfort and support as more decisions about Easy’s care likely needed to be made.
Easy’s blood work showed signs of improvement. His white blood cell count came back down within normal range but came down too quickly giving rise to the concern for cancer. His kidney levels also came down within normal range, revealing that no kidney damage had occurred. Their original high levels had just been due to the fact that he was dehydrated from all the re-flux being expelled. With no reduction of re-flux and his condition remaining unstable, another decision needed to be made. Should we try another medication to get his gut moving, continue re-hydration, and re-evaluate in the morning; or was it time to say good-bye? After discussing the options with my sister, we decided to move forward with medical management and the new medication. We had 12 more hours.
As I said good-bye to Easy for the evening, I prayed with every ounce of faith I had.
We went home to Loveland that evening. My husband had to get to work the next morning. My co-workers came together and generously covered my shifts to allow me to be where I needed to be. As the night wore on, that stone in my heart grew heavier and heavier. I dreaded what the morning might bring. In spite of my faith-filled prayer, I felt the need to prepare myself to say good-bye and was doing just that …. when the text from the vet came in. “Good morning! I wanted to update you that Easy stopped refluxing overnight…is much brighter..has improved gut sounds… We have pulled his tube and started offering him small amounts of water to drink and are decreasing his fluid rate because his blood work has been stable.” I. Was. Ecstatic. And bawling. I thanked my husband profusely for letting me try, fully aware of the financial hit we would encounter to which he replied, “When are we going on a trail ride?”
I brought Easy home the next day, and he continues to improve. Tony and Mary thoughtfully released me from our lease agreement, recognizing the importance that both Easy and I need to be near one another as he recovers. At the time of this writing, it has been one week since we made the decision to wait twelve more hours to see if he would pull through. My prayers were answered. I believe we are witnessing nothing less than a miracle.
My immensurable gratitude goes out to the amazing team of veterinarians God so meticulously placed in our path, and of course to my husband, Tony, Mary, my friends, and my family.
Surprisingly, this has been a journey of spiritual milestones. The range of emotions I experienced led me to draw on strengths from which I haven’t drawn in some time. It has renewed my faith, caused me to step back and reflect and to take action to bring more balance into my life. I am more grateful even for the little things, am kinder, more generous, more thoughtful. I’m more present and engaged and less willing to let life be stolen away by the harried feeling that goes along with the busyness of the daily grind. Interestingly, these changes don’t feel like bargaining tools in order to remain in good standing with the sovereign God who saved my horse as they have been in the past after other monumental events or tragedies, but rather are by-products of the realization that life is fragile, and it is meant to be lived and enjoyed and embraced. Almost losing my favorite horse helped me to gain heightened gratitude for all that I have. This changed Easy too. He is more delicate now, and caring for him will have to be more intentional and specific. He is a special needs horse for now. I remain optimistic about Easy’s recovery and immeasurably thankful for every minute I have with him… for every minute I have with everyone in my life.
