Of Horses and Homes

Photo copyright Aji, 2016; all rights reserved.

So, I've basically been up since just after 2 AM. For the second day in a row. Day 2 of a migraine, too. Actually, it's the fourth of five days with little to no sleep, and I seem to be fighting a bug, too. So needless to say, this day started off just wonderfully, thanks.

At morning prayers, I was startled by a bird alighting in the cedar tree next to me, practically close enough to touch. It darted around, murmuring softly, then stopped to look directly at me. I finally realized it was there with its mate. at first, I thought they were bluebirds, from what little I could see in the branches, coupled with the sounds.

Robins.

About as skittish as bluebirds. And the bluebirds did show up, a small and anxious flock of four to six, a few hours later. They are entirely out of season, five months later than usual; the robins are a couple of months early (although even they mostly show up late in summer and depart fairly soon).

Considering when this occurred, I took it all as a good sign.

Today was Cree's check-up, and her first X-rays since January 7th. We were hoping for the best, prepared for the worst, praying for a miracle.

We got a better one than we ever could've hoped.

The vet was astonished at how well she was moving with the clog on, and how happy and engaged and relaxed and frankly relatively free of pain she seemed to be. Also full of attitude, bitchery level on high. She's the herd alpha, so this means she's more or less back to normal in that regard.

The first real test, though, would be removing the clog and seeing what it looked and felt like, not merely to our relatively untrained eyes and fingertips, but to the vet's.

As you can see in the photo above, the sole is bone dry. 

First test passed.  

Photo copyright Aji, 2016; all rights reserved.

Now, this, as you're staring at it from the angle I was, is the right (i.e., inner) side of the hoof sole. You can see the slight indentation there, but it's much closer to where it should be than it was a month and a half ago.  That is one area that, not all that long ago, was blocked by abscesses, and that's what created to indentation in the first place: the inflammation turns to infection, and the infectious wetness in turn softens the tissue around it, and the entire hoof capsule and the sole itself weaken, and you get mushy indentations like that. And rotation of the coffin bone, and breakthrough of bone through sole, if you're really unlucky. This side was not so unlucky, but it wasn't good, either.

What you see there is healthy sole — not quite extruded to where it should be, but getting there. it's also exceedingly hard now, so there's no abscess remaining; the cracks you see in it are a result of the drying effects of the antibiotic poultices.  

Second test passed.

The third would be far more significant.

Photo copyright Aji, 2016; all rights reserved.

This is the same area of the hoof sole on the other side, the left/outer side. This was where the damage was by far the worst. That indentation you see there? It's still very, very deep, the constant abscesses having literally broken down and destroyed much of the hoof tissue. That area, when depressed with a fingertip, was soft and spongy, positively mushy, and worst of all, there was a hard little ridge on the inside of it toward the frog.

That ridge was her coffin bone. It had rotated so drastically that she had come through her sole. [If you haven't read my previous posts about this, that's usually the point at which the vet administers an IV injection that euthanizes the horse. Now, fortunately, there are options . . . in some instances. Cree was, all things considered, not an especially likely candidate for those options, but for our own bull-headedness.]

The sole is solidifying. There's still some softness yet, but it's no longer mushy. The dryness effected by the SMZ poultices has pretty thoroughly brought the infection, and therefore the abscesses, to a halt. 

Fourth test passed.

Still, a big one remained: the films. All the hardening in the world means relatively little if she's not building new sole. I was hoping for news that she had begun to build a tiny amount of sole tissue, that the newly-hard surface was exactly that, even if it was only paper-thin. I was prepared to be happy with a millimeter or so, or even less . . . and I had steeled myself for the possibility that there would be no new growth at all.

She had built nearly a full half-inch of new sole.

This is a miracle. 

A month and a half. We all thought then that we would be dealing with the worst — that there would be no saving her. Wings and I have been encouraged over the ensuing six weeks by her seeming progress, but without new films, there was no way to know whether it was real progress, or perhaps merely a hint in that direction, or only a mirage.

Nearly half and inch is more than we ever could have expected, reasonably or unreasonably. Fifth test more than passed.

It's a combination of factors, of course: the clog itself, with the wraps; the SMZ poultices; the orals, including the Prascend for her Cushing's; our willingness to work at this, no matter how exhausting; her willingness to work with us, no matter how exhausting for her, too. But it's working.

That alone made my day.

There are a couple more things going on.

We met with Wings's friend about the blueprints for the house today. This is a skill set that is just simply beyond me. Before I got sick, I probably could've forced my brain around the problem, but the brain fog now is such that it's hopeless; my mind shuts down when I try to get a handle on it. But he's going to take care of that. It will, of course, be for a cost; we would not expect anyone to do this for free, and he will not be, but he is, as he said, going to be less expensive for this than anyone else around here. It's his profession, so he knows what he's doing.

By mid-March, if his current job is wrapped up where he thinks it will be, and if the weather holds, we'll have a working set (with the knowledge that some things about them, could, and indeed probably will, change as we move forward). But at that point, we'll begin the ground work: excavation, plumbing, electrical, etc. We'll need some ancillary trenching, too. Then, the foundation . . . and then the frame, and it begins going up. It will be a long-haul process, and we'll be doing it in stages, but the time has come for the second stage of crowdfunding. We're lucky; normally, we wouldn't be able to do it anywhere near this early, but the recent unseasonal warm-up has thawed the ground thoroughly.

And so, on March 1st, I'll be launching the next YouCaring page, for Stage II (and perhaps III, as well). We have some funds already set aside, making it possible to begin more or less immediately, but this will be an expensive process, so base don current estimates, we're pegging this next segment at $15K. That could change, but that's the current plan.

So, what we hope you'll do, come March 1st, is share the link far and wide. If you can kick in a little, that's great, too. Consider this just a little notice from the advance team, so to speak.

And many, many thanks to all of you who donated to Stage I in the fall, and everyone whose help and prayers and good vibes have been with Cree all along the way.  We're profoundly grateful. 




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.