So, Cinch's feet are way too long. He was ready for a trim 3 weeks ago, and the trainer (who also trims and shoes) ran out of time.
I can't really fault him: besides training 6-8 horses, he's been clearing out and widening the back ring, sifting out all the rocks, grooming the ring multiple times daily, and doing tree pruning on the property - with full tree-pruning climbing gear, not a ladder. The guy does a bit of everything.
But that meant Cinch wasn't done. And then there was a horse show, and then they needed to prepare for Congress... so he asked the other reining horse farrier to do Cinch. I added Cinch to his list on the board.
And, oh, by the way, that farrier had dislocated his shoulder at some point.
Now, he is still shoeing (though I have no idea how) because that's his only source of income... but he's not exactly on top of things.
He forgot to do Cinch last Tuesday.
Meanwhile, the barn owner and trainer are out at the QH Congress, no one to remind him.
So when I got to the barn Saturday, I saw Cinch with really long toes, looking a bit uncomfortable as he walked, and did the math: it's been 9 weeks. I was a bit peeved, to say the least.
There was no way I was going to ride him... but I figured, this would be a good time to lead him out to the back field, give him a chance to see a big open space and stretch his legs without me putting any pressure on him.
So I did. And he was a bit snorty, barely taking a bite of grass before raising his head and looking around, very very alert... until bam, he dropped and rolled.
Well, then.
Looking back, I realize: what was I thinking? He hadn't been getting any work to speak of, just getting out of his stall a bit every day mostly lunged, since the trainer left. It would have been prudent of me to throw him in the round pen to get his ya-yas out before trying to give him his time in the field. But noooooo.
I have a pretty long lead line - 8 ft long - and he used every inch of that when he jumped up and proceeded to buck, fart, and rocket around me 100 miles an hour, on wet grass, in sliding plates.
I kept with him, trying to coax him back from the brink, but he was starting to go sideways and I watched in horror as his back end got closer and closer to the ground, his feet losing purchase.
He apparently didn't like that either, so opted to no longer circle. He took off straight away from me.
I found myself airborne. For a second or so, anyway. Until I landed, on my right side towards my back, ribs first, the rest following moments later, my arm extended, hand still clenched around that damned knot at the end of the lead line. And dragged about 2 feet before Cinch noticed. And thank all that is holy, stopped... because if there was one thing the old guy who instilled all my early horse savvy in me was adamant about, you don't let go of the reins/lead line. And about an acre away, in the direction Cinch was heading, was a road.
I'd felt a crunch, not in my back, but in front, up at my sternum. "That can't be good," I thought.
I lay there for about 15 seconds waiting to see if I would be able to do anything but gasp, and then for about another minute wondering where my glasses went but unwilling to attempt to sit up and look for them, because I knew it wouldn't be fun. Then another minute or so, thinking, "I'm going to have to call the barn and have them come get me."
And that was the thought that got me sitting up.
Yup, pride cometh after the fall, sometimes. :)
It hurt like a mofo, but I managed. I rooted around and found my glasses, and used them to glare at Cinch - who was looking back at me like "WTF are you DOING??"
I managed to lead him back, and the pain was actually lessening. I was aware of it, but no stabbing pain, no shortness of breath. So I decided that if the stinker could do that, he could get some exercise lugging me around at a walk in the indoor. I saddled him up, and spent the next 2 hours with him and then grooming Tico, before I decided to suck it up and go to an emergency room, just to make sure I hadn't broken anything - there was that ominous crunch after all, and I'd had a few twinges when I moved around, picking feet and such, that were disquieting.
I didn't bother going to the one in the city where I live - since there was no aortic spurting involved, I knew I'd be there for hours before they even looked at my insurance info and collected the co-pay (been there, done that).
So I went to a regional one further west, about 1/2 hour in the other direction, got to have a doctor feel me up (did I mention it was most tender around the rib right under my right boob?), got the xray done, and the possible prognosis - no bones broken but given the crunchy feel and the location, probably did something to the costal cartilage, That's not something they can see with an xray, and it's not like there's much to be done about it - treatment basically rest, ice, don't do that again.
At the barn before I'd left, it was suggested I use arnica on it. She even had some, so I got her to spray some on my rib. On the theory "it can't hurt", I bought some on the way home, and showered, arnica-d up, and iced all night (I wake up a lot, and I'd brought up a small cooler filled with ice-packs to switch out).
Sitting up from a prone position had been extremely painful at the ER, and then at home, "I shouldn't have lain back" came to mind whenever I needed to move.
But when I got up Sunday morning, I felt only a slight twinge. Sitting up? Well, it's obvious something happened but nothing to make me rethink my actions. I kept waiting for it to get worse as I moved around, but it didn't. I went to the barn and though I didn't ride, I played with both my boys.
It wasn't as if everything was Miracle Max fixed, but it wasn't screaming pain by any stretch of the imagination. The area is tender, if I cough it's like my body says "oh, no, we are NOT going to really expel any air at all, thank you very much" and I sound like a Patrician twit only able to cough if it's a dainty, refined cough (think "heh. heh." rather than "HACK! HAAA!"), and God help me if I sneeze - those are still pretty awful.
But in general: not nearly as bad as I expected.
So, thank you arnica!
