Actually, I believe my last thought was..."I'm going to hit the fence."
The next thing I remember was a big, strong hand in front of me and a soft, deep voice asking, "are you alright?" Naturally, I said yes, but on my hands and knees, with pain surging through my body and my mind struggling to figure out just how I ended up on the ground, I was not really alright.
I struggled to focus, but my wozzy brain just wouldn't cooperate, and for some strange reason I could not see very well. I was, however, cogent enough to realize that the gentleman helping me to my feet was the handsome cowboy that had walked by earlier. I do like cowboys, but I was not looking my best, you understand, as I was covered with dirt and slightly incoherent at the time. Cars had stopped on the street, apparently witnessing my spectacular come apart from my horse.
The term "come apart" is horse talk for "I was just tossed by my onery horse and got the stuffings knocked out of me." It is generally not very pretty, and the last time I got dumped was in 1978, where, thanks to my 3-year old Arabian gelding, I acquired a concussion, lost four front teeth, broke three ribs and developed some amazingly colorful bruises.
This time, I still had teeth, and so I smiled at the cowboy, thanked him and the rest of my audience for coming to my rescue, and attempted to walk over to my horse, who was, innocently enough, grazing by the arena gate like nothing had happened.
With everyone gone and the dramatic moment over, I called Mr. Wonderful. "Sweetie, I got thrown, can you come help me?" Not exactly the words you want to hear from your "she's my all I've got" but there you have it. True to form, his first question was "are you alright?" to which I gave my stock answer "yes." After 42 years of togetherness, he should know by now that this is a bald faced lie.
When he arrived, he found me waundering at the north end of the arena looking for my glasses. I'd finally figured out that my vision was fuzzy because I'd lost my specs in the wreck. Being the sensible person he is, he asked where I hit the ground, and I pointed to the south end of the arena. The bum had the nerve to tell me that if I hit the ground at the other end of the arena, it was likely that my glasses were there also. It hurt too much to sass him back, so I meekly followed him to the south end of the arena, and sure enough, about 10 feet outside the fence were my glasses. He was gonna pay for that comment, just as soon as I was well enough....
In the car, heading home I began to notice this alarmingly large swelling on my neck and at base of my skull. "I think I hit the fence sweetie" I offered. Now I should say this was no ordinary fence. It had posts made of old wooden creosote telephone poles, each about 6ft high and 12" in diameter, with rails made from well casings, cast iron and about 4 inches in diameter. This was a FENCE, and I'd apparently catapaulted off the saddle and hit the rails with my back and neck, falling to the ground AFTER being tossed into the fence. Looking at the ginormous bruises in the mirror a few hours later was proof that this had been much more spectacular than I'd originally thought.
No, I did not go to the emergency room... until a week later when I just could not breathe. After a lecture from the treating ER doc, I discovered I'd gotten a concussion, at least two broken ribs and badly bruised back and pelvis. No wonder I was hobbling around like an old woman.
Then I got pneumonia. And a NASTY sinus infection. And JUST as I was beginning to heal up from all this ... my horse plowed over me coming out of his stall one morning, all 1,100 lbs of him. Laying there, in the dirt again, in abject pain, I wondered how I was going to alert Mr. Wonderful, who was in the house blissfully unaware that his wife had crashed and burned again, to please call 911?
This. Hurt. Really, Bad. .. but as usual, I lay there until the pain passed, threw up, got up, and hobbled into the house to ask him to please finish feeding the horses, as I was sure I needed to sit down for a few minutes.
Mr. Wonderful has been a little worried about me.
I've been a little worried about me. My horse wreck was only a few days after blogging "Truffles the Terrible", followed a month later by that bad bout with pneumonia and what turned out to be a really viscious sinus unfection, and finally in January the last horse crash. From the beginning of October until only very recently I have become very good friends with my heating pad, and the recliner (because I can't yet sleep flat), and any number of ER and Urgent care doctors, not to mention my family doctor who just shakes his head at me. I barely managed to hobble dutifully to work each day, only to sit in my fancy ergonomic chair with the heating pad bungeed to the back rest. Just barely enough energy to work, feed horses and fall into fitfull sleep, it's been a rough winter for me. I hardly remember the holidays.
And I'm still pretty sore and wobbly. I did a ton of knitting during this time, including this lovely scarf, which I made out of organic cotton, so soft and comforting to knit with. I crafted a pair of fingerless gloves to match the scarf. They were auctioned off for a United Way fundraiser, going to a lovely lady who spent a generous $200+ on them. Knitting seemed to be about all I could do, that and play with my iPad. Sleepless nights are the best for Etsy shopping and Mr. Wonderful began to fuss at me every time he checked the mail and came in with another handful of packages. Binx, her sweet, sad eyes watching my every move, has been my closest companion when I'm sleeping on the recliner, purring her love and healing comfort during those exhausting nights when the pain just wouldn't go away.
I am so, so sorry that I did not blog during this time, and I am humbled by the worried, kind emails I have received from you all. I did take a few photos now and then, intending to blog, but then could not get up the stairs to my studio, edit photos and sit at a computer. I just wanted my heating pad and a blanket, a cup of tea and my kitty, and quietly let my poor body heal. I can't remember ever being so sick, or so very sore.
I am better now though, and still here Dear Ones. During this time I have been able to, from my vantage position in the recliner, direct several rennovations on the farmhouse, and the new granite kitchen countertops and chandeliers are especially gorgeous.
I can't wait to show you the new lovliness.
Eileen


