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November 27, 2004 Last week I was sitting on the couch when the phone rang. It was Dr. C asking me to come in because we had a horse that needed emergency surgery. It was a seven month old baby that had been at the clinic for a couple weeks with a severe shoulder wound. He had been acting a little lethargic on Saturday, but I really wasn't concerned. Apparently he had began to decline Saturday night, and Dr. C was ready to call me Sunday morning when he suddenly began to improve. He was fine all day until around six when he began to get down and roll. She couldn't control his pain with drugs, so she got permission to take him to surgery. When I got there we prepared the surgery room and went into his stall to get him up. We could not get him to stand up. We were screaming at him, clapping our hands and tugging with all our might, but he would not stand up. Finally, in desperation, we grabbed a mat and tried to drag him onto it, and then procede to drag him to the surgery room. Now, I weigh a hundred pounds, and Dr. C is about one fifteen, the colt was about six hundred. It wasn't a fair fight. We got him about half way out of the stall when he began to thrash and shake. Dr. C began shaking her head, begging him to not do it. His pupils began to dialate, and Dr. C began to cuss. Finally she asked me to just stay with him while she went to get the euthanasia solution. I pulled his head into my lap, and by the time she got back out to the stall he had died. I felt so helpless. It seemed no matter how hard we tried to help him, we were so close, but so far away. Granted, with as bad as he was, he probably wouldn't have made it through surgery, but there are always all those what ifs. What if we had taken him to surgery that morning? What if I had gotten there sooner.... I know that I can't control everything, nor save every life. I just hate when the young ones die. The way he died, we are betting it was a bad case of intestinal worms or colitis X. If it was either of those, surgery would not have done any good. It just really wasn't a good way to end my weekend. I hate that I write so much about the bad stuff like that, but I guess it affects me more than the good. Mambo is doing good, however. Dr. C thinks he may always walk a little drunk, but he is alive and that is what matters. We finally got the culture results back, and it turns out he had a very rare and hard to get rid of bacteria. Yeah, only my animals. I love how he waited until I took him home to begin showing signs. 'Gee, thanks for saving my life and giving me a home, I am going to get really sick now.' Greatful little kitty isn't he? I just love him though. He is constantly making me laugh. He has so much personality now that he is feeling better. He loves to give the dogs hell too. If they are laying on the couch next to me, and he thinks he should lay there, he has no problem jumping on them and hissing until they get off. I really do love him. Thanksgiving was pretty good, although I had to go three different places and I was expected to eat a little at each one. It was good to see my families though. It's a little over a year since my grandmother passes away, and being around the rest of the family eases that pain a little bit. I still miss both my grandparents more than I can express. I still find myself picking up the phone to call them. I guess that never really goes away. On the way home on Thanksgiving, a lady rear ended us in Roger's new truck. It was a pretty big bump. My mom pulled a muscle in her back, and my neck is a little sore. I don't know if Roger was more upset about mom getting hurt or the dent in his brand new truck. Oh well, we're all okay and that's what matters. Other than that, I really haven't been up to much else. No shock really, because everyone knows I have no outside life. I think I am the most boring twenty year old I know. Oh well, I am happy and that's what counts. Now, it's saturday night and I am going to go and work on my essay for school. Geek anyone? :) <-//->
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