Stays and Delays

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

First, the delay part: Everything else will be late today. I'm snowed under, figuratively (and soon literally, too, if the forecast holds; it's already flurrying, and the whole sky is white). I have a huge to-do list for today alone, and it's doubtful I'll come anywhere near the end. Regular posts will probably go up late in the day.

Now, the stay: I'm deliberately omitting the other two words in  the phrase, because I haven't been able to get my brain to go there. If you need further definition, think "reprieve." It all has to do with that girl up there in the photo.

Cree's founder has been flaring badly in recent weeks — not at all surprising, given the temperatures and the weather, and especially the drastic and rapid-fire changes in both. Thursday, it went to a whole new level. A terrifying one. 

We trimmed the left hoof on Friday, trying to relieve the pressure from the abscesses in the hoof wall. We needed to balance her forefeet by trimming the right, too, but even after the work Wings did on her left, she couldn't put her left foot down. The angle at which she held it, screamed of new rotation, and there comes a point at which the degree of rotation of the coffin bone (generally) becomes a death sentence. The horse vet was already scheduled for Monday (yesterday), but the appointment was rapidly taking on a whole new tenor. We spent the New Year's holiday in no small amount of pre-emptive grief.

Beginning Thursday evening, Wings had upped her meds temporarily. We moved her into the small stall, where he had put down a new bed of wood shavings, and we kept her in there overnight and again Friday night. I did some hands-on work on her left hoof, and we soaked her again (apple cider vinegar, Epsom salts, warm water; it forms a collective drawing agent with some antibacterial properties). Saturday morning, she showed some propensity for movement, but still couldn't really put the foot down. But her eyes were clearer, and she was communicative, and we were thankful for that much.

On Sunday, she was beginning to put a small amount of weight on the foot again. The angle was still bad, but at least she could tolerate a bit of pressure. By afternoon, she was sufficiently improved to join the other horses out in the pasture. 

Yesterday, the vet took a look. She was originally coming out only to check the abscesses, because we believed the accompanying fungal problems (thrush, a common result in wet weather like we've had) had tipped over into something bacterial, and we wanted to start her on a short run of antibiotics. She wound up agreeing that that was the case, by while she was here, she looked at the more emergent problem that had arisen over New Year's. She's coming back on Thursday afternoon to take the necessary films, and then we'll know where things stand, (pun not intended, but all too apt).

The ten-cent version is that we pretty much know that Cree has rotated some more. The question now is simply one of degree: How badly? And has it reached a point where it becomes a sentence of life imprisonment in nothing but terrible pain? That becomes the line. 

We already pretty much know the answer to that, in general terms, and it's no. What we don't know is how much longer that might be the case. But we got some good news yesterday: First, there's a new drug out to treat her Cushing's, and if it works, it may help with the founder. The existing drug was often worse than useless, inherently unstable, and we had elected not to put her through treatment with it and subject her to the problems and of yet more long-term drugs with systemic side effects for what was unlikely to be any return. Now, there's a new and stable version available; we have no idea what it's going to set us back, but we're going with a 60-day trial, which will be enough to tell whether it's going to work.

The second bit of good news is that such rotation is no longer a death sentence. Of course, it requires careful balancing of all sorts of factors, not least of which is age, and Cree is around twenty now. But our vet is working with a patient, a three-year-old who foundered inexplicably in both forefeet with no discernable cause. For horse people, you'll know what I mean when I say that he went right through both forefeet. The youngster is reportedly doing well, albeit with a great deal of management, but he's alive and comfortable.

Cree will never carry a rider again. That much we know. I didn't know it at the time, but I was the last person to have that honor, two and a half years ago. But she is part of the family, and it's not her job to carry a rider; it's her job simply to be. After Thursday, we'll have a better idea of what all that entails, but for now, the photo above is one I took last night. She's eating, she's happy, and she has weight on the left forefoot. She's feeling enough better, in fact, that a half-hour previous to that photo, she got snotty and launched into a kicking match with Ice. [All sound and fury; he didn't even touch her, although she apparently tagged him.] When two horses trying to kick each other is good news? You've been holding your breath for a very long time, believe me.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2016; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.