#25 Two Legs To Four...

I learned to live with four legs.

The spring had been rainy, one of those El Nino years which brought intensive winter rains. The last rain had been a week ago and the world of mud in which we lived was slowly turning back to the dry, dusty landscape of norm. It was late spring and our busy season was over, it was time to rest.

A few of our older horses were sent to stay on a few acres we owned. Here they could rest until needed again. Twice a day someone checked on them, feeding as well as watering. Today was my turn.

It was the evening check and I drove our ancient pickup to feed them. Ten old horses stood at the fence waiting. The welcoming nickers greeted me as I stepped from the truck.

The "boys" as I called them were all aged geldings and used mostly for small children. Gentle, sweet natured animals who were safe for beginners and kids alike. They were lined up now and waiting for me. Twice a day we gave them extra feed and there is nothing more satisfying to a horse person than the sound of horses contentedly munching on feed.

I had finished feeding and turned to filling water tanks. I'd cleaned each tank and hose in hand I went from tank to tank filling each to the brim.

I turned to fill the last tank when it happened.

I fell.

Stepping into a dried tire rut, I fell.

I heard it first. A loud pop as I fell sideways, my foot in the rut and my body to the left. A loud pop that I will never forget.

For a moment in time I seemed suspended. I thought about what happened and the significance of the sound. For a moment I felt nothing and then... 

The pain was overwhelming. I lay gasping on the ground, running hose in hand. The pain was so intense it made me want to gasp, to vomit... to scream.

Yet I did none of these things. 

I could barely move but so ingrained in my spirit was taking care of the horses that I crawled on my stomach to finish my chores. Then I crawled to the water spigot and shut it off. To me the water and the act of caring for livestock was greater than my own well being.

Spent, I laid on the dried mud for some time. I could do no more. I waited.

Eventually help arrived in the form of a cowboy staff member who came to look for me. He lifted me up and took me home. There My Cowboy took control.

I was helped to the couch, hopping on one leg... I really did think my leg was broken but never having broken a major bone before, I didn't know for sure. (I had broken a toe when a horse reared and landed on it but pain is relative.) My Cowboy grabbed my injured foot and proceeded to yank off my boot.

I almost fainted with the pain.

Boot off he looked at my leg and shrugged. 

"Suck it up," he said as he handed me a beer ...and then some Tylenol.

So suck it up I did. But I couldn't walk on that foot, my ankle would not support me. I used a cane but could not perform many of my stable duties. In desperation I began to use horses for my legs.

I switched from actively working in the stable to actively riding for the stable. I used a mounting block to get on and the same block to get off but I began to put many hours in the saddle. I changed horses throughout the day but I began to ride for ten to twelve hours in marathon riding days.

The months past but my leg didn't heal quickly. I could not wear boots or footwear that went over my ankle and began riding in sneakers. Not knowing that I would never again be able to wear boots or even heels. I fell often and often hard. Our doctor friend, the one who had advised me in the past, said he couldn't stand to watch me hobble about anymore and took me to the hospital. After xrays I discovered that I'd torn all the ligaments and a tendon in my ankle, injuries which never completely healed.

There was really nothing that could be done but I followed their advice and eventually I did walk correctly again. Yet... I missed those extra hours on horseback. It was not a punishment to be riding but a joyous blessing and something deep within my heart was filled with peace and happiness. I was meant to be here and for a cowgirl in training, there was no better place to be.