Riding is my sanity—it’s my “me time” at the end of a long day or busy work trip—and with an aging horse, it feels like I am getting robbed.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know we’ve all heard it, but right now, only four weeks in, it makes my heart ache.
I’m not very superstitious, but I think I jinxed myself. At the end of last year, I was celebrating a full year of Ax being sound since his big lameness two years prior and being done with rehabbing a “senior” horse while successfully managing his arthritis. Seven days later, he was off and I haven’t sat in my saddle since.
I blame it on growing up owning a hardy pony who did most of the injuring to others as opposed to getting injured, but whether it’s just from a superficial scrape or something more serious, my horse coming up unsound always sends me spinning. Sure, Ax is a healthy, fit, freshly 20-year-old horse, but he also has 20 years of usage on his legs, most of those with weight on his back while jumping over fences of various heights.
So, when Ax suddenly trotted out lame in early January and presented with some swelling in his fetlock, I was concerned. It persisted after a vet visit and two weeks of conservative care, and I was worried. Then, radiographs showed the potential of something serious and I was devastated. But when an ultrasound finally showed some desmitis, I was relieved. After three diagnostic appointments and over a month of stressing, we found that Ax pulled the lateral oblique sesamoidean ligament in his left front. I never thought I’d be thankful for a soft tissue injury.
Relief aside, I am officially sidelined, sitting on the bench instead of in the saddle. Ax’s rehab process is expected to be between four and six months, the typical amount of time for a minor soft tissue injury like his. From 15 minutes at the beginning to 40 minutes by the end of March, each day I go to the barn for his prescribed handwalking, which lately has been more like kite flying. Like a toddler on a leash, he has taken up the occasional hissy fit, pulling off scarves and hats while trying to roll at any moment. Within the first eight weeks, he will have three treatments of shockwave therapy to aid in healing of the ligament, then a second ultrasound to check its progress before I can tack back up for a few minutes of walking.
If you look on social media, it looks like Ax and I are doing okay—happily plodding around endless laps of the indoor arena. But what Instagram didn’t see were the tears pre-diagnosis or the heaping spoonfuls of Ben & Jerry’s that felt like they helped with the stress over vet bills that still feel like they are consuming me. Though the feeling has faded as we have both become adjusted to the rehab schedule, real life felt like a nightmare because riding is my reliever and that was out of the question.
Call me selfish—I know it could be worse. Ax will be sound again; a mild soft tissue injury is far from career-ending, especially since his lifestyle consists of hacking around the ring in a semi-retired-but-not-really way. Even the vet has assured me that he should be back to 100% with time. But riding is my sanity—it’s my “me time” at the end of a long day or busy work trip—and with an aging horse, it feels like I am getting robbed of those four to six months. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know we’ve all heard it, but right now, only four weeks in, it makes my heart ache.
The Working Amateur 