August melted into September. I distracted myself with the Pendleton Roundup ( having friends run interference in the crowds to save me from getting bumped) and from there we went to the Arabian Sporthorse Nationals in Nampa Idaho. It was the first year for the show in Nampa and I did enjoy spending the week watching all those beautiful Arabian horses. When we returned home I had another appointment with my orthopedic surgeon. Still no change. It was in October when we began considering that I might not heal on my own. The fracture was just too displaced. He had hoped and waited so I could avoid surgery, but now he was convinced I needed it if I was ever to heal.
It has been 3 months since the accident. Seems longer. Seems like a lifetime ago. I’m not sure my body remembers how to follow his walk, trot, or canter. He looks at me quizzically when I enter his stall. Is he wondering why I no longer take him out for our time together? Oh well, he thinks…at least she still feeds me peppermints. I miss my horse. I see him almost every day, yet I miss him as if he is gone from me…because in a way, he is gone from me. I can no longer ride. It would be melodramatic to say I may never ride again, yet some part of me fears exactly that. I am 53 years old. I have a broken collar bone and perhaps a torn rotator cuff that are refusing to heal. I have been waiting for 3 months, and now the doctor tells me I will need an operation, and I will need to wait some more. My throat closes up. I can barely breath. Frustration pours through me. I did not find my passion until late in life. I feel the clock ticking. Only so much time left for me and for my old boy. I hate wasting it.
In early November I went in for day surgery. When I came out of surgery I went home and it was as if I had broken my collar bone all over again. The pain was unbearable. There was a lot of swelling and I had to have a portable machine that iced the site on a regular schedule round the clock. I was on pain meds that caused me to feel loopy and sick. Sometimes when I did sleep I would feel as if I were falling and jerk myself awake only to wrench the bones that were now being held together with a titanium plate and six screws. I had been sleeping in my recliner chair ever since the accident happened. Maybe now the end was in sight.