Death (Rewritten): Conclusion

[Howard4567@aol.com]

Death Visits Ridecamp (Conclusion)

We get back to camp quickly, but we're way behind the front runners now.  And 
that's just fine with me, but my sidekick has gotten way too competitive and 
it's bugging her.  She wants to pick up the pace.  Both horses eat great and 
go through the vet check with no problems.  Dance is full of life and Rebel 
is being an Arab.  Much calmer than Dance, but Rebel is 4 years older and has 
more miles under his girth than Dance Line does.  

Now the next loop is the first one, again, and is 17 miles.  I know this is 
gonna be the killer loop, cause this ride is not Florida, deep sand or no 
deep sand.   The hills and wet clay are definitely taking their toll.  But up 
to this point both horses seem fine.  And they're both eating hay and beet 
pulp.

We do a lot of walking and trotting, but not too much cantering on our last 
loop.  The road traffic is dangerous and I will not return with a junior next 
year because of it.  Like I said earlier, it feels like Central Park in some 
places here and the road is one of them.  

Now I gotta tell you about this basketball regatta thing.  No one was there 
the first time around but they are there now.  Cars everywhere and off to the 
side it must be hundreds of basketball courts filled with over a thousand 
kids.  Whistles blowing, loud rock and roll music, voices blaring over an 
incredibly loud intercom system.  And we're riding right through the entire 
thing.  Hundreds of young people walking on the sidewalks and road that 
we're, also, on, part of the trail.  Talk about stressing out your horse!

Towards the end of the loop I can tell Dance is tired.  I can just feel it.  
We get back to camp, go to the vet check and Dance is high.  66, 68 and he 
stays that way for a while.  I finally get him down, we get through it, but 
looking on it now, this is where I should have pulled.  It might have been 
too late even here, I'm not sure.  And the key, the damn key, was he didn't 
eat anything.  A little hay, but no beet pulp.  Rebel didn't eat much either; 
they were both tired.

But I did the last loop.  I made him do it and this is where I think I should 
be taken out and flogged for doing so.  When we got back to camp Dance was so 
tired he went down.  I knew he was tired, but Dance never lays down at these 
things, not even during the night.  And I was extremely worried.  Rebel was 
fine, after a while I even let Jen take him for the completion check.  But I 
didn't go with Dance.  Something's seriously wrong.  I checked his heart rate 
and it was high, mid 70's.  

I get him up and take him to the vets.  Now this is when it really gets 
freaky.  I'm pulling on him, really hard, he doesn't want to walk even, and 
suddenly this green liquid comes out of his nose. And I'm not talking snot 
here.  It's liquid and there is a lot of it.  Just unbelievable.  I get him 
to the area and walk by the others in line.  Someone actually says something 
to me about cutting in line, but I ignore her totally.  I find the head vet 
and tell her what's wrong.  She drops what she's doing and gets another vet 
nearby, who, I guess, is on standby for stupid riders like myself.

He comes over, I tell him about the liquid, he says the horse is refluxing, 
not good, and the vet starts moving very quickly.  He sedates Dance, puts a 
tube in his nose, down his throat and into his stomach.  Gallons, and I mean 
gallons of liquid come out of Dance's stomach.  And now we've drawn a small 
crowd.  Jen comes up to me and asks what's wrong.  Tears are in her eyes and 
I don't have a good answer for her right now.  

The vet is asking me a ton of questions while he's working and I'm realizing 
things are about as bad right now, as they can possibly get.  He shaves a 
portion of Dance's neck, explains that the horse will need IV's since we just 
pumped out his stomach and inserts a needle into a vein on the left side of 
Dance's neck.  I tell him where my camping spot is and he says he'll meet me 
there.  The vet's name is Todd and I recognize him from the Liberty Run ride 
in Georgia.  I hope he hasn't read my story from that ride cause I kind of 
spoke poorly of one of the vets there (it wasn't Todd).

Dance is walking very slowly and I know his system has shut down.  I 
contemplate suicide as I walk with my buddy to our camp.  I just stand and 
wait.  Rebel is making his noises, the ones that gave him his nickname, and 
wants to know what the heck is going on.  A friend has taken Jen away from 
the action for me; it's all I can do to stand up.  Todd drives his small 
truck up and we look around for someplace to hang the IV bottles.  Since I 
had parked next to a group of trees, Todd finds a sturdy one, and up he goes. 
 Of all the things I bring with me to a ride, a ladder is not one of them.  
Someone gives Todd a lead rope and he hooks up the bags with the rope, hangs 
the rope down, a helper ties it to a tree branch and I help get the tubes 
close to Dance.  

Todd comes back down the tree, hooks up the tubes from the IV to the needle 
already in Dance's neck.  The liquid isn't coming out fast enough, Todd goes 
back up the tree, adjusts the bags for a better angle and comes back down.  
He's got two huge bags connected to one another and tells me it will probably 
be two hours before we need to change them.  He checks Dance's vitals, tells 
me no gut sounds, and I feel faint.  

Friends come up to me (please don't hug me), they can tell I've been crying, 
one of them asks if I need a break and I say no.  I don't deserve a friggen 
break and I will stay here with him every minute.  I can't tell you how bad I 
feel.  If he dies tonight, part of me will die tonight, and no matter what, I 
will never be the same.  My cocky attitude has just been extracted and I 
don't want a refill.

During the course of the night, I learn about refluxing.  It's a term 
defining the stuff coming out of the stomach and is a horse's version of 
throwing up.  When this happens the horse is most likely going to die, 
because it usually means the stomach has ruptured and there's no way to 
repair that, not even surgically.  No one actually came out and told me all 
this in one swoop, but asthe night went on, as more IV bags were added, I 
learned, bits and pieces that Dance was probably a goner.

Around 9PM, after the awards dinner, Jennifer shows up and tells me she's 
going to bed.  She hugs me, gives me a kiss, and says, "Don't let Dance die 
Daddy," and walks off.  Nina and Susan were standing nearby and I know they 
heard Jen say this.  Todd had told me earlier that Jen had come up to him at 
the dinner and asked him questions, similar to what she just said to me.  "Is 
my horse gonna die?  Are you going to save him?  Tell me the truth."  Todd 
said he had never had one so young be so direct about the whole thing and it 
threw him.

So this is where I started my story and I know you all want to know the rest 
really bad.  So here it is.  Take it for what it's worth; I'm not trying to 
sell you anything here.  I'm alone.  We're on the third and fourth IV bag and 
Todd is due back in about 30 minutes.  Most have gone to bed, I did have Jay 
and Mary help me, they put an extra blanket on Dance, one that fits him 
better than mine, Jay even added a towel under it to keep his back end warm.  
I asked Jay for a cigarette and he gave me an entire pack.  Jay brings me 
some coffee, I get the feeling that he's been through something similar.  
Everyone has tried to help, but I can't leave Dance Line for hardly a minute 
except to hit the bathroom.

Dance is shivering so I get out of my chair to hold his head.  My stomach is 
so messed up I throw up right there next to him.  I start thinking about just 
who the hell I am.   What is wrong with me, to be so competitive that I get 
my horse into this position?  And he is my best friend, I don't make or keep 
human ones very easily.  

So this atheist, Yankee turned redneck, retired Air Force, wanna be endurance 
rider looks up and asks.  I ask God to save him.  I tell him I knew I screwed 
up and I will tell the world that I did, if only he lets him live.  And I 
will never deny the existence of a supreme being again.  Never, no matter how 
full of myself I ever get.  And I beg.  And I do say it outloud, I want no 
room for doubt here.

Yes, I did lose it that night.  As much as you can, and like I said before 
this is a weak area for me.  I cannot handle Death and I probably never will. 
 The only thing worse, to me, would be if this was happening to a family 
member, and if it were Jennifer, I doubt I'd be able to maintain 
consciousness.  They'd have to sedate me.  This I know.  

So the vet shows up, on time, and I've never seen a guy work harder on 
anything.  Poor Todd has met Jennifer and he will not let this horse die if 
there is any way of saving him.  He checks the pulse.  It's down!  I mean 
down.  He checks the gut.  The sound is there.  It's making noise.  I see 
shock on Todd's face and I know it's on mine.  I knew Todd did not expect 
this, especially this early.  He had told me this IV thing might take three 
days before the horse turned around, if he ever turned around.

Now I knew we weren't totally out of the woods.  There's still something 
blocking back there and until we have some poop and urine, things could just 
go back to the way they were.  He tells me not to let the horse eat or drink, 
that we can take him off the IV's but he has to not eat anything thru the 
night.  We had talked about this earlier and I knew the only way to do this 
was to put him in the trailer.  Dance has never been tied up overnight and I 
knew this was the only way to tie him up safely.

So that's what I do.  Nina M. is up late tonight and helps me while I connect 
the truck back up to the horse trailer, not an easy task to perform in the 
dark.  Plus I have a ton of stuff in the trailer that I have to get out.  I 
do this while Nina is walking Dance and not letting him eat grass.  Dance has 
some of his strength back, he's definitely better.

I get him in the trailer and sit in my chair.  I'm not planning on sleeping 
too much, but I do try and rest.  So much for my traditional nap after a 
ride.  Around 2 AM I hear pee.  I rush out of my chair, grab a flash light 
and climb up the side.  I want to see the color cause this is important.  And 
it looks clear, or yellow, or whatever.  In other words it looks normal, not 
red or dark.  Damn.  And today is Sunday.  I don't think Church is ready for 
me quite yet, but I'm looking up in gratitude.  Things are definitely 
improving.

Around 4 or 5 AM there's a poop.  Not much of one, but Dance does poop.  And 
I dance around the horse trailer, announcing to the world, "he pooped, he 
friggen pooped."  A stranger watching me would have thought I had gone 
totally insane.  And he just might be right.

So that's it. We made it back home just fine, Dane Line is dancing in my back 
yard, right now as I write this closing paragraph or two.  You'd never know 
anything ever happened except for that shaved patch on his neck, where the 
needle went in.  Will I ever ride him in endurance again?  I don't know.  
Will I sell him?  Never.  Will Jen ride again?  Most definitely.  In fact if 
you do slow 50's, and I mean slow 50's, wear ear plugs (you'll need them with 
Jen, aka "Mouth of the South") let me know. She needs a sponsor.  I will be 
looking for a tall Arab (is there such a creature) for me, but it will only 
be for 25's.  If I ever do a 50 again, it will be quite awhile, at least a 
year.  

I didn't write this for you to find religion or to torment you on whether 
Dance Line lived or died.  I wrote it to show you how stupid I was and for 
you to know how awful things can get, even if you are super careful.  I will 
never judge you or what you do with your horse and if you choose to judge me, 
that's just fine.  I won't disagree or argue. Like I said, I know I screwed 
up.

I just ask that you take it one loop at a time, that, maybe, you look at how 
badly you want to win in our sport, and if you get a feeling something's 
wrong, even if you fly through the vet checks, go with your gut feeling, and 
don't be afraid to pull your horse on your own.  You'll feel better about 
yourself in the morning if you do.  

Luck, coincidence, Divine Intervention?  What really did happen to me and 
Dance Line at this ride?  I don't quite know; I just know I'm no longer an 
atheist.  Thank you, GOD, for letting him live.

Yours,
Howard