PART 22 - MY JOURNEY WITH MJ
When I wrote the original version of MJ's story back in May, I genuinely thought I'd reached the end of it.
I'd written everything that had happened from the day I first brought her home, through all the injuries and setbacks, our return to eventing, Blair, the DSLD diagnosis, the unexpected second chance and eventually finding ourselves in a much smaller world where we were mainly riding in the school.
At that point I thought I'd probably reached the point where I could draw a line under it and say, "This is where we are now."
Of course, if there's one thing I've learned from owning horses, it's that they have a funny habit of writing their own stories!
In June, MJ again started to feel uncomfortable in ridden work, so I called the physio. She found that MJ had become quite tight again and worked on her, including some ultrasound treatment. After that we had about two or three weeks where she seemed absolutely fine, so I thought perhaps we'd got on top of whatever was bothering her.
Unfortunately, the same niggles started to appear again and this time I was getting much clearer signals that she wasn't comfortable.
As we'd only just had the physio out, I started wondering whether perhaps her saddle was now pinching her. MJ had put on quite a lot of weight because she hadn't been able to exercise as much as I would have liked, mainly because I'd been struggling to find work that she was comfortable doing
So I booked the saddler.
Unfortunately, as anyone who owns horses will know, this meant waiting a few weeks for an appointment.
When he eventually came, he confirmed that the saddle was no longer sitting particularly well for her and adjusted it accordingly.
I got on afterwards and rode her for about ten minutes, just in walk and trot, asking her for a bigger trot to see how she felt.
And she felt absolutely fine.
"Hooray!" I thought.
Perhaps we'd found the problem.
Perhaps it really was as simple as the saddle no longer fitting her properly.
I was relieved.
Then the very next day I got on her, asked her to go forwards and she was absolutely not happy.
I was gutted.
It was so frustrating because I'd genuinely thought we'd found the answer, and yet here we were again.
So I called the physio and got her back out.
This time she found that MJ was uncomfortable in a different area, which was consistent with the saddle having been uncomfortable. She worked on her again and told me to give her three or four days off, then work her in hand with the saddle on so that she could get used to the fact that the discomfort wasn't there anymore.
We did exactly that and everything went fine.
MJ was completely happy to have the saddle put on her, and when I worked her in hand she seemed comfortable.
The following day I tacked her up as usual.
One of the things I always do with MJ is tack her up loose in the yard. I don't tie her up and she has the opportunity to walk away if she wants to. She's never been grumpy about being tacked up and, in fact, she is generally incredibly cooperative.
She stood perfectly.
I put the saddle on.
No objection.
I mounted.
No objection.
Then I asked her to move forwards.
And I got exactly the same negative reaction.
I got off immediately.
This is a horse who loves to work.
She is not a horse who looks for excuses not to do something. Quite the opposite. Even now, when we do very little, she has always been incredibly eager to please and loves knowing that she's being a good girl.
So yet again I found myself thinking, "I wish you could talk."
There was clearly something that wasn't right.
But what?
By this stage I honestly wasn't that bothered about riding her for my own sake. Yes, she could do with the exercise because keeping the weight off her has become increasingly difficult, and I've mentioned before that I do feel our connection is particularly strong when she's in ridden work, even if it's only very light work.
But I am perfectly happy spending time with her without riding.
Our daily grooming sessions, scratching her favourite places, using her massage pad and simply spending time together are things I genuinely love.
So I wasn't sitting there desperately thinking that I needed to get back on her.
I just wanted to understand what she was trying to tell me.
Then on Wednesday 2nd September, something else caught my attention.
I was giving MJ her morning feed and had started our usual grooming session when I noticed that she was resting her near hind leg for a significant amount of the time.
It wasn't just a normal relaxed resting of the leg either. She was holding it in quite a strange position and it immediately caught my attention.
When I watched her walking, she perhaps looked a little short behind, but she wasn't what I would call obviously lame.
Both hind legs also looked slightly puffy, almost that fluid-filled, windgall-type swelling that you sometimes see around the fetlocks.
The following day, I could see that she was actually a tiny bit lame.
By the next day, the lameness was more significant and there was more swelling, so I decided to get the vet out.
I also took photographs of both hind legs.
Then I did something I probably shouldn't have done because, as anyone who has ever owned a horse will know, comparing photographs of your horse from two years ago is rarely a good way to spend your time!
I found a photograph I'd taken about two years previously, just a few months after we'd first been given the DSLD diagnosis, and compared her hind legs.
My heart dropped.
Her fetlocks have definitely dropped.
Seeing it in a photograph like that, side by side with an older photograph, made something that I think I'd probably been trying not to fully acknowledge suddenly very real.
The vet feels that this latest development could definitely be due to her favouring the near hind, particularly because the off hind was initially assessed as being the worse of the two.
The vet gave her IV painkillers and a course of Danilon and came back yesterday to reassess her. He advised that is perhaps in both mine & MJ’s interests if we now come to terms with the fact that she is no longer able to be ridden, and now goes into full retirement.
I'm finding that incredibly difficult to write.
Not because I am desperate to ride her again.
I'm not.
It's more that every time we've reached what I thought was the end of one chapter, somehow another door has opened.
When she was diagnosed with DSLD at just 11 years old, I thought our jumping and competition career was over.
Then the specialist vet came into our lives and we got another chance.
I thought we'd been given a miracle.
We got to jump again.
We got to compete again.
We went eventing again.
We had that incredible day at 80cm.
We went to Gleneagles.
We had more memories together that I genuinely never thought we'd have.
And perhaps that is why this feels different.
Because this time, I think I am finally accepting that I may not get another second chance.
But I've also learned over the years that there is no point borrowing tomorrow's sadness today.
Right now, MJ is still here.
She is mainly comfortable.
She is living a happy life, she is out 24/7 with full access to her stable when she wants it. Luckily the vet said that even though she’s fatter than she’s ever been, he’s happy that she has 24/7 turnout (lucky for me a TB with no laminitis issues).
She's still the same little mare who pushes her head into my arm for cuddles, who stands perfectly still when I tell her she's a good girl, who loves her scratches and grooming and massage, and who I am still incredibly lucky to call mine.
She still gets her daily grooming, scratches and massage, and she still gives me those little moments of connection that mean far more to me now than any rosette ever could.
Those things are still there.
And I am incredibly grateful for them.
Writing this whole story has been an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, made even more so because the story has continued to unfold while I've been writing it.
There have been parts that have made me laugh, parts that have made me cry and parts where I've had to stop because I hadn't realised quite how emotional it would be to go back through some of those memories.
But perhaps that is exactly why I've wanted to share it.
Because when we look at other people's horses and their seemingly perfect journeys, we don't see all of this.
We don't see the vet bills.
We don't see the uncertainty.
We don't see the nights worrying.
We don't see the plans that have to be changed.
We don't see the injuries, the falls, the loss of confidence or the tears.
We just see the photographs where everybody is smiling and the horses are looking fabulous.
MJ's story certainly hasn't been the journey I'd planned.
It has been messy, frustrating, heartbreaking, exciting, terrifying and, at times, completely magical.
And although I still have moments when I look at other people's eventing photographs and feel that little pang of sadness that we aren't doing that anymore, I am trying to remind myself that our journey doesn't need to look like anybody else's.
I have been incredibly lucky to have had the experiences I've had with this little horse.
I've been lucky to have had the highs.
I've been lucky to have had the second chances.
And now, if the time has come to let go of riding her, then I will do that because I love her more than I love what she can do for me.
The most important thing now isn't whether MJ can jump, compete, hack or even be ridden.
It's that she's comfortable.
That she's happy.
That she gets to enjoy her life.
And that we still have our cuddles, our grooming, our scratches, our little routines and that connection between us.
She's still here.
She's still my beautiful girl.
And for now, that's enouGH.
Comments