Like the last surgery, the podiatrist came back every other day to change her bandage. Unlike the last surgery, there wasn't much optimism this time. I knew he'd be there on Saturday. I had called my friend the night before and let her know that he'd be there at some point since she had missed the surgery. I don't remember if she sent me a text before he came or not, but eventually I asked her what he'd thought that day.
It wasn't good. When he went to change her bandage, there was a clear substance coming out of her hoof. He said it was either joint fluid or could possibly be a serum she was creating. We all prayed for serum.
On Monday, as I was leaving work, turning onto the main road leading to the farm, I briefly caught a glimpse of the podiatrist's truck headed north, away from George. I assumed it meant he'd already been there. Sure enough when I got to the farm, she had a fresh bandage on. When my friend arrived at the farm a little while later he asked me what the vet had said. I told him I hadn't spoke to him, he was gone before I got there. In the back of my mind, I figured I didn't want to know. Living in oblivion for another 48 hours wouldn't be the end of the world.
Wednesday finally came. I was supposed to be starting a new job in Louisville that day. I re-arranged my schedule so that I could have the day off. I took Kermit to the vet for his rabies vaccination that morning and then spent an hour or so doing a few things around the house. At that point, I couldn't wait any longer. I headed to the barn. It was a warm and sunny day, I figured by the end of it, I would be quite sunburned. I took George out of her stall and to the side of the barn to hand graze for a little while. I had planned on it being longer than the 45 minutes it ended up being, but somebody decided to be a bit goofy.
So, I put her back in her stall and gave her the chloramphenacol she was supposed to get at noon. I then left the farm to run an errand and get some lunch. I took my time because I knew I'd have the rest of the afternoon with her. Returning to the farm, I took my grooming box and camera and set them out in the catch pen, I figured I'd take her out there in case she decided to be stupid like she was in the morning.
Of course, she was perfectly calm. I got her a very good grooming in. She was just as clean as she had been the night before when my friend took some pictures of her. It just was a waiting game today. Earlier that morning when I had been grazing her, my anxious friend had the podiatrist call me and tell me when he'd be coming out. He was coming around 4, which I assumed since he typically tried to wait until I was off work for the important visits. As Wednesday's was the mother of all his visits so far, and everything riding on the x-rays, I had just assumed it'd be after 4.
To pass some of the time while George was grazing and we were waiting, I tried to take some pictures...she's not the most co-operative, and in the end, settled on reading my book. Again, this was a difficult task, because she wanted to help. Eventually, I figured that she might like some water, so we headed back in the barn, if for no other reason then to get me out of the sun.
Of course, four came much too quickly. My friend showed up just moments behind the vet. Everyone tried to stay light hearted as he set up the x-ray machine, but everyone knew how much was riding on this vet appointment. We got the x-rays, and there wasn't anything that stood out on them, which was good. But, out of the new surgery sight, a clear liquid was draining. Afraid that it was joint fluid, the vet said he was going to inject the joint with saline solution to find out.
As he blocked the hoof, my friend's husband showed up. Distracted by their boat being freshly named, it took a minute for him to come over. He sat down and watched though to find out the verdict instead of going to clean his colt's stall like he normally would have done. The vet inserted a needle just above the cornet band straight into her joint. The first bad sign was that nothing came back up the needle, he said it wasn't uncommon for joint fluid to come out if the joint was fine. Then he injected the saline solution. It came pouring out the hole in the front of her hoof. The infection had finally got into the joint. I felt sick to my stomach.
The vet quickly said that he would not consider amputation for her. Neither would I. As a yearling, I can't imagine what that would do to her quality of life. He said that he could put her down right then, or he was comfortable leaving her a few more days because she was still eating and looked great, he said just keep her on the antibiotics. My friends informed me that they'd already talked to the farm manager and she could be buried next to my friend's old horse, Phoenix, and her two cats. It was comforting, but at the same time overwhelming. I opted to wait because I was starting two new jobs in as many days. I knew I'd be a wreck regardless, but I figured that I had a better chance of keeping a stiff upper lip if I knew she was still alive.
After the vet rebandaged her hoof and pulled the bandage and Soft-ride off her good foot, we turned her loose. Still slightly drugged, she was more than happy to graze. Anyways, what did it matter what she did now? The farm was hers to do whatever on. Eventually, she wandered back into the barn looking for food. With a little guidance, I took her down to where my friends were talking with the other two boarders. They promptly began to spoil her with the treats they'd been feeding her and the feed for their horses and donkeys. George followed one of them into the donkey's stall and was taken aback by it's size (it's a double stall). I drug her away from the donkeys feed tubs, though their owner insisted she was fine. I took George down to her stall, where my friend promptly gave her the medicine, and George promptly left after that. I followed her back down to the other end of the barn and drug her out of one of the other horses stalls. We then wandered outside, no lead rope, just my hand on her halter. She saw the other two boarder's come in and said hello to them and semi-followed the donkeys. We then walked up to see her old field buddies, two of them tried to tease her. After that, and suprisingly little resistance when I pulled her away, I took her back to the catch pen and grabbed my camera again.
Eventually, my friend came back from putting the boat away. She said they were going to dinner and wondered if I'd like to go. I went even though I didn't really feel like doing so. I figured it was better than me going home alone at that minute. When we returned from dinner, George was asleep in her stall (I had interupted her nap schedule that day by taking her outside). I let myself in quietly, and sat down on her. I figured I'd never get to ride her, so this was as close as I'd ever get. I didn't make her get up, I grabbed the camera yet again and snapped a few more pictures. I wouldn't have many more opportunities to get any. I said good night to George and that I'd see her in a few days. In the mean time, I knew she'd be well spoiled with plenty of food by everyone but my friend's husband.
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