The Fear Place, part 2

Before I continue my story from The Fear Place, I wanted to throw out a quick update to Ella. Yesterday, I finally heard back from her owner, who said that he is happy to have me work with her!  I am really excited to do this, and will definitely be posting our progress.  Unfortunately, I work a lot in the next week and so will not get a chance to start working with her until next week.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog entry.

The fear had taken over my mom.  Tapper had stopped when he reached Rocky and I, but a part of her knew that she should redo the hill.  The panicked part tugged quickly back on Tapper's reins, and he obligingly backed under a pine tree.  Snow tumbled down around my mom, and she had to hunch forward under the branches.  Her eyes were wide and I could tell that her mind had fractured with fear, not processing the situation clearly.

I suggested that she dismount and do some ground work, joking about "surviving the experience."  Her terse reply of "No shit!" told me where her head was, and it wasn't ready to ride.  She got off, and proceeded to lunge Tapper going up and down the hill.  Her cues were a little off, and she would tug him toward her at the bottom of the hill.  He obediently would turn and face her, but she hadn't meant to tug on him.  She would briskly send him off again, and he was starting to get agitated from all of the mixed signals.

I asked if she meant to pull him in, and she said no.  She stopped doing it then, now that she realized what was going on.  I told her to change his direction more frequently, which helps him to relax and gives her more to think about in terms of cuing properly rather than just letting Tapper trot around her.  Within a few turns, Tapper's eyes were quiet and calm.  He was doing what she asked without issue, but my mom hadn't completely left The Fear Place yet.

I pointed out that he was behaving himself and seemed over "his" issue.   She slowed herself down, and was able to agree with me.   I told her that instead of riding straight down the hill, which seems to make her more fearful, I suggested riding circles on it.  She ended up going down the hill to the side of the main trail where the slope wasn't as steep.  She rode up behind me, stopped and looked at me.

I told her to go do it again.

She let out a reluctant breath but she knew I was right.  She went down the hill twice more, each time becoming more confident as Tapper didn't put a foot wrong.   Finally her smile was back in place, and she was able to laugh about the experience.  I reminded her that she needs to work on just going up and down that hill until it gets boring for her. She said I was right, and that she would plan a time to do it one of the next times she went to the barn.

Working through fear isn't easy, and I'm not sure if it's something that ever completely leaves you.  With horses, nothing is ever guaranteed other than the fact that they can be unpredictable.  I love them anyway.

 

Sorry for the poor quality of this image, but it was the only one I could find of it! It's from Bonnie Timmons' book, "Hold Your Horses."  I recommend every horse aficionado own a copy. 

The Fear Place

I think we have all been there.  You took a new route, did the wrong thing at the wrong time, had something completely accidental happen.  Sometimes you luck out, and nothing bad comes of it even when it should have. Other times, you get hurt, perhaps even end up in the hospital.  Life can be like that, but with horses, the chances of getting injured go way up.

People handle these things in different ways.  Some are able to get up and go on like nothing ever happened.  Others are devastated, so traumatized that they give up riding for life.  Of course, there is every nuance of feeling between those two extremes, and most people land in the middle.

I had a bad fall while cantering that still causes me back pain now and again.  It has been over 6 years, and I am 90% over it.  I still get a little clutch in my belly before asking for it for the first time in any particular ride, but then it smooths out and I'm okay.

My mom's bad fall is something she is still working through, and it's what I wanted to highlight today.  I happened to be there for her fall, and have been helping her work through it since.  I had to dig my way out of my own worm hole, too afraid and ashamed to admit my fears or to know how to ask for help.  Now that I am on the other side, it is gratifying to reach out and offer empathy, support, and guidance.

Mom and Lady (ironic name) were going down a hill behind Rocky and I.  We were close to the barn, coming back from a very short trail ride. My mom is new to horses and to Lady in particular.  When Lady began to trot down the hill, it scared my mom so she attempted to pull her to a stop.  Lady was a dominant personality mare that my mom was learning to handle, but she hadn't been able to really gain Lady's respect.  Instead of stopping, Lady swerved to the side of the trail.  By this time, I had heard the hoof beats behind me speed up, so I had turned around in the saddle to make sure they were okay.

I saw Lady tuck her nose a bit, then kick out with both hind legs three times in a row.  By the third kick she had effectively bounced my mom out of the saddle.  She fell hard on her back and right side.  I was off Rocky and next to my mom as fast as I could be, where she gasped for breath.  Remembering what it felt like to get the wind knocked out of me, to try to stand up while hard fists were closed around my lungs was scary by myself.  I coached my mom to take slow, shallow breaths rather than claw for a big filling one.   I told her to stop trying to get up and just focus on getting air.

She listened, staying on her knees with her hands on the ground in front of her, trying not to cry and moan in pain while getting the necessary oxygen.  After what seemed like forever, but was probably 30 seconds or so, I could hear her breathing even out.  She was still half panting from pain but it was no longer as panicky.   I grabbed Lady then, and helped her slowly stand up.

We traded horses for the short walk back to the barn.  I didn't know if Lady would try to rush or push her way back, but I knew Rocky would be gentle.

I ended up taking my mom to the hospital, where they admitted her for two days.  It was one of the scariest drives of my life; I wanted to go fast to get there quickly, but take turns and stop carefully.   She had severely bruised her kidneys and they were worried she may have internal bleeding.   She was released after two days with painkillers and no internal damage other than bruising.

Since then, she has purchased a new horse named Tapper and gained new horsemanship abilities.  She is still learning, as all of us are, but has come a long way.

A few days ago, we had completed a decent trail ride with no mishaps.  Tapper started to trot down the same hill Lady had over a year before, and my mom panicked.  It brought back all of her memories of her fall and even though he stopped when he caught up to Rocky and I, only 15 feet ahead of them, the fear had taken over my mom.

To Be Continued...

Difficult Conversations

Welcome, Mugwump Chronicle Readers! (and all others, of course.)  Mugwump featured a past blog post I wrote on her blog today, and one of the reader comments inspired me to write a follow up.  The original blog can be found here.  It's titled "Lemons," and is about my experience of buying Rocky, falling in love with him, and then realizing that he has HYPP N/H after receiving his registration papers from the friend I bought him from.  One of the Mugwump readers asked if I ever talked to "Rite," my friend who sold me Rocky, about not disclosing his HYPP status to me prepurchase.  Here is the answer:

When I got Rocky's registration papers in the mail and saw the dreaded "HYPP N/H" letters on the side, my heart sank.  One of the people I boarded with at the time had been concerned that her horse was HYPP positive, and had mentioned a few things about it.  Essentially, I knew that it wasn't good but not any concrete details.  I headed to the internet and did some research to learn what exactly I was dealing with.

I was still grieving the loss of my first horse just three months earlier, so seeing that my new horse I had already started falling in love with may have a seizure and drop dead was terrifying.  For a while, I sat and cried with my laptop, wondering what I should do.  I didn't want to return Rocky; HYPP notwithstanding, he was exactly what I wanted in a horse and my rational brain knew that horses can have accidents or other sudden medical issues.  I had learned that fact all too well with the untimely death of my first horse.

I felt such rage at Rite, for misleading me, for breeding Rocky in the first place, for continuing to breed his HYPP N/H sire at will.  I thought about how she feeds all of her horses a rich alfalfa diet, and came to the conclusion that she did not have the same panic response that I did.  The potassium in alfalfa can set off HYPP symptoms, but she didn't seem to either know or be bothered by that knowledge.

Finally, when I had processed the situation enough on my own to not send a nasty, horrible email, I did send one.  I don't remember exactly what I said, but I tried to keep my feelings in check the best I could.  I asked if Rocky had ever had HYPP symptoms, what they were and how severe they were if he had experienced them. I think I commented about being surprised to see that he was a carrier on his papers, and that it would have been nice to know earlier.

She responded by saying that he'd never been symptomatic, nor had Checkers, his sire.  Rite explained that if he were to have an attack, it would look like "he was standing on his tippy toes" with his hind end, and that it would go away after a little bit.  I stared at that email for a long time.  I didn't know what to say; she knew enough about HYPP to know that it would be a muscle seizure, but apparently not enough to know that he could choke to death?  Obviously choking to death would be a worst case scenario, but it has happened.

I finally decided that nothing I could say to her was likely to make a difference. She was an adult, had made her choices and chooses to believe that HYPP is not a big deal.   Rite recently talked about gelding Checkers, and I was very supportive of the idea.  Other than that, I chose not to pursue the matter any further.  I think that Rite honestly believes HYPP is not a real problem, so she thought she was acting fairly. 

In many ways I have been very lucky to have Rocky.  He has a great mind, tries hard, is sweet and steady.  A good deal of those traits come from his breeding, as both Amber (his dam) and Checkers are good minded, calm, and try to please their rider.  He also came with the upbringing I wanted, having received all proper vaccinations and farrier care.   Rocky was also desensitized from a young age, again adding to his value as a trail horse for me.

Rocky's good traits that he got from Rite added to my decision to let this thing lie.  I couldn't see any good come from "having it out" with Rite, and at the end of the day, I love and want my horse. 

If you had been in my shoes, what would you have done?  What do you think the "right" course of action would be? 

Human Euthanasia

Recently on the Fugly blog, they have been discussing humane euthanasia in the case of "rescued" horses.  It got me thinking about another type of euthanasia, one which is probably more controversial than whether or not to put down a horse.

I'm talking about human euthanasia, specifically in people who will never recover from things like Alzheimer's, or who would already be dead if a machine weren't breathing for them.  Generally, I think people should be allowed to die when it is clear their quality of life is suffering a great deal.  I am trying to be as broad as possible in this, as there are always exceptions to the rule.

I have one grandma who has entered the advanced stages of Alzheimer's, and occasionally has refused to eat.  Eventually, the nurses get her eating again but she isn't the woman who used to be my grandmother.  My grandmother would never have allowed herself to get to the state she is in, but Alzheimer's is a sneaky thief who steals your memories, thoughts, and wishes from you before you know it.  I love my grandmother deeply, and that is why I believe she should be allowed to die.  It seems like the only humane thing to do- I would put my dog to sleep if he ever got as far gone as she is.  She struggles to remember anyone, even her husband and six children.

So what do you think?  Is this too slippery a slope? I know there are terrible people who would "let go" of their "loved ones" just to get an inheritance, or stop paying medical bills, or because Mom always liked the other sibling better.  What is the right course of action?