Sunday suckage

It’s times like this I begin to wonder if taking days off is a mistake. They seem to invite disaster. Saturday night, one of our horses had colic, or seemed to, and we had the vet out Sunday morning when she had not improved. Her symptoms were strange and seemed to point to several different possibilities. When, even with treatment, her temperature, heart rate, and breathing continued to increase, the vet suggested we take her to the equine hospital. That was 6:30 last night.

Six hours of driving there and back and three hours of consult later, we think we know what’s wrong and why. Which would be nice, except that there’s nothing we can do for her except get her hydrated and make her comfortable while her body repairs itself. She’ll stay up at the hospital while they do more tests and figure out for sure what is wrong. It seems to be related to the pain medication she’s been getting for four months to treat a chronic illness involving her feet.

I’m more tired than I know what to do with. We got home at 3:30 this morning. And I haven’t heard yet what new developments there have been this morning. So I’m impotently worried for her.

I freaking hate this crap. I hate that our horses keep falling apart around us. When are we going to catch a break?

ETA: Just found out: her kidneys are damaged; her feet are hurting, but she can’t have any pain medication for it; and her protein levels are low, which makes everything else worse. Hellfire and damnation.

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About Joyce

Joyce Sully lives in Southern California. She graduated from UC Irvine. She likes to knit and cook and play video games. But mostly she writes. Joyce writes short stories and novels, songs and poems, scripts and instructions to feed the cat if she stays out late. She has been spotted as far afield as Seattle, but travel makes her nervous. She believes in magic and dragons and ghosts, but is not convinced her next-door neighbors are real.
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