Whisper's Accident

The long drenching winter rain had finally stopped and the arena was showing signs of beginning to dry, I was starting to have delusions of working my Thoroughbreds again after weeks off.

Whisper's hoof injury from 8 months ago had healed and grown down far enough that she was now all clear to start building muscle up again on that side of her body. I had plans for a horse chiropractor to come out and get her ready to start work. We'd start with ground exercises and build up to my new cavaletti. Whisper was going to get a job and learn how to channel all of that energy to the same direction I was moving. A local trainer was going to begin giving us lessons together once groundwork was done. By Fall, we would be a team under saddle.

That was the plan.

Yesterday, we had ice storm warnings all day. School was closed and as temperatures dropped and the rain began freezing to ice pellets, it made sense to leave the horses safe and warm in stalls all day. A little extra hay and the radio on, they were just fine.

I went to do chores this morning expecting them to be a little high from their confinement the day before, Spotlight bit at my coat and my rake trying desperately to get me to play while I cleaned his stall. After I was done with him, I went to Whisper's.

I cleaned her stall while she finished her breakfast, my wheelbarrow, already full of Spot's stall stuff, blocked her stall door. She paced back and forth between the wheelbarrow and taking bites from her feed pan, like she always did. When I was finished cleaning her stall I pushed the wheelbarrow forward so I could pull the door shut and take her blanket off.

I always do this, this routine of cleaning first, then taking blankets off. The wheelbarrow is always in the middle of the aisle for just this moment of the day so that I can get the blankets back on the blanket racks.

Back in Whisper's stall, I pulled the door closed behind me. Her door sticks firm on the threshold, a convenient thing since I'm too short to latch the dutch door on the outside while I'm in the stall.Whisper stood still at the door while I went to do her blanket buckle. One second I was beside Whisper, the next she was launching forward into the stall door, bursting it open, leaving the stall at a canter.

It would have been okay, if the wheelbarrow hadn't been there. She missed it as she left the stall, but once she reached the end of the barn (closed gate) and spun to run back up the aisle, she ran straight through it. She could have easily gone around it, I still don't know what made her choose to see it and run through it.

She took out the wheelbarrow with her front legs and as it fell to it's side, it trapped her rear legs. She panicked and thrashed. One leap and she was free of the whole thing. Blood was everywhere, she trembled as I approached her and put her halter on. As soon as the halter was on she felt safe and dropped her head down, yanking her rear leg up. Blood splattering.

I called the vet and he was 40 minutes out. I wrapped her up in a brand new polo wrap and put her back in the stall, called a babysitter since my husband is away on a 4 day trip, and tried not to lose it.

After 4 sedatives and numbing the leg, the vet was able to assess it.

Whisper's laceration cut through her skin, muscle, the tendon sheath covering, and severed 2/3 of the deep flexor tendon. The sheath covering on the tendon removed, and partially cut, the tendon extended out of her leg like a popped rubber band (that's the white coiled up thing in the photo).

2 hours worth of surgery to the leg, we are hoping for the best. Best case scenario, we can keep it free of infection and keep her off it to allow the tendon to heal in as small a scar tissue mess as possible. If all goes completely right, she may be sound on that leg one day for light riding, jumping is out of the question.

A lot can go wrong. Infection is the main concern. In our favor is the fact that we addressed it immediately, the wound was fresh and we got it flushed and antibiotics on board. Against us is Whisper. She required repeated sedation during the sutures even though she had no feeling in the leg. I lost count. At one point she broke my lead rope.

After all of this sedation, walking her in-hand back to the barn she refused to move slower than a jig that was trying desperately to break into a trot. She also jumped a ditch.

We boostered her tetanus, the leg is wrapped up, and the hoof has a modified heel elevator on it. If her heel stays up off the ground, the tendon stays un-flexed and more likely to heal. If that heel goes down, it would all tear apart.

Whisper will be on stall rest at least 6 weeks and possibly much longer. The vet comes out to do another IM antibiotic and check her on Tuesday. So many things can go wrong we have to stay on top of this. She screamed from the barn so loud we could hear her in the house, for 3 hours. I couldn't take anymore after that and took the kids out on a previously promised zoo trip.

Now that I've had time to process what happened I am passed the sad stage and onto fury. I don't understand. I really don't understand why this stuff keeps happening. I swear I am doing everything I know to do and injuries just keep going.

Grooming her tonight, I apologized to Whisper again for having not done the wheelbarrow first. I didn't expect a horse in the aisle so I simply hadn't moved it. Stupid error.

Bandon also got a heart to heart from me tonight. I hope he handles pressure well, all of my eggs are now officially in his basket. He was nice enough to let me fall apart a little then.

I hope to be lucky enough to ride Whisper again, I hope to be lucky enough to keep loving her for a whole lot of years no matter what. Looking back on our jumping start I was so sure was the beginning of something great, stings.

I saw horses alongside a backroad as I was driving back from the zoo tonight. Four of them crowded together pushing into their strand barbwire fence until it bowed under their weight as they reached for a cow-quality roundbale. I was struck by how people keep their horses in a careless way and never see the injuries Whisper and I have weathered. It is just too much.