Freedom!

Senior year was demanding. School, sports, and work was ripping me into 3 pieces. I had to fight to keep myself together and find time to see my beloved Gideon.  Luckily I spent part of the year working at a barn just a few miles from where Gid lived.  At least three days a week I hightailed it from cheerleading, made the half hour drive down windy rural roads, changed clothes in the barn bathroom and tacked up my horse.  Often I rode Gid through the trails to Michele’s barn where I worked.  It was a good 20 minute ride each way and he was always at Michele’s barn patiently waiting in the stall when I returned from riding one of hers.
The last day of my high school career.  FREEDOM!!!  No practices, no studying, no school activities beyond preparing for graduation.  I woke up the first morning of my free life, put on my blue jeans and grabbed a brand new 10 lb bag of carrots.  Gravel was flying as I sped into the Winterview driveway.  My heart was pounding with excitement. I sprinted to his stall in the old barn ready to throw my arms around his neck and celebrate our new life together without the hindrance of high school.  I rounded the corner, greeted the old men Festus and Bacardi with a smile and turned to see Gid. He wasn’t there.  I glanced around the other stalls in the old barn thinking, “maybe they moved him…”  No Gideon.  I saw Patti, the owner of Winterview, out in the pasture so I passed the new barn, the manure bin, and the round pen to see if she could solve this mystery. “Nicole (the girl doing chores that morning) said he was hurt and stuck him in the wash rack.” She was planning to check out the injury when she was done in the field.  Bummer. Horse injuries are a regular occurrence.  Riding today was probably out of the question, but we still had the rest of the summer and our lives!!!  I ran to the wash rack, carrots still in hand, and found Gideon patiently waiting for something…anything to happen.  While he munched on a carrot, it didn’t take too long to find it.  He had a bloody open wound on the back of his right hind leg about 6 inches down from his hock (kind of like a knee on a horse).   Patti rode up on her mower and dismounted to survey the damage with me.  The conclusion – due to the location of the injury we should call out the vet.  I knew there were a lot of important tendons and ligaments back there and I wanted to make sure everything was ok.  You still couldn’t bring me down from the excitement of this new phase of life.  Gideon and I hung out together and waited on the vet.  My friends Susan and Nene, both barn moms who are excellent horsewomen themselves, showed up and chatted away the next 45 minutes while they tacked up their own steeds.
The vet finally arrived. She walked back to survey the wound and within about 15 seconds the exam was over.  She exited the wash rack with a solemn expression, lifted her gaze to meet my inquisitive eyes, and said “I feel bone chips.”

“We need to get him to the clinic to take xrays”

Patti followed the vet out of the barn to discuss logistics and said she’d hook up her trailer.  Nene and Susan rushed to my side.  I looked at them, literally confused as to why they were so concerned.  It took a few minutes to sink in. Gideon’s leg was broken. Fear started to ooze into my heart pushing out the joy that had seemed untouchable. Most horses don’t survive broken legs…