LankyDoodle
Well-Known Member
One year ago today, my husband went to the stables in the morning to bring our horses in for the day. It had been the bank holiday weekend and they'd spent more time out than usual, but they'd been seen to. Our mare was brought in that day with a leg the size of a tree trunk. For the following week, the vet treated her for an infection and she was kept on box rest. At the end of that week we began to walk her out, as instructed, and found that she was very lame (worse than before), so we put her away and called the vet out again. By the time the vet got there (we'd gone to work and left her with our friend as she wasn't in a bad way, just lame), Sparkle was dripping sweat and really struggling with the pain. She had developed laminitis while on box rest - medication, no moving around, infection, heavyweight cob, spring/summer = laminitis.
Another 10 days later she had more tests and xrays done, which showed slight rotation, worse in one foot. We did all we were told by our vet and she was kept on box rest with soaked hay and a handful of chaff to put her bute in. She was miserable being stuck in, but she kept fighting on, rarely lay down (that we saw) ears constantly pricked, still her happy little self in most respects.
She seemed to recover from the first bout of lami and then just as we thought we could start thinking about her recovery (in several weeks' time) she had another attack and had to have more xrays and blood tests. The blood tests came back with a raised level of something but the vet said it was to do with her immune system's response to the lami and he would investigate further if the cycle continued. At that point, I joined this site to try and get further advice (to that I'd already been getting from our great vet and wonderful farrier), and read all about people like Eaglestone who's horses had had lami and been found to have cushings or EMS. I started researching this and thought it was possible Sparkle might also have it, and wanted to know more about what the raised level was on her blood test. By now, though, she'd had a third attack of laminitis and was just getting worse with each attack; she had yet another set of xrays which showed that she was a sinker. I was doing my PGCE at the time and didn't see her for a couple of days during her third (and last) attack; but she was really my husband's horse and he was looking after her.
We were doing EVERYTHING we'd been told to do, and I was doing so much research. On Thursday 10th July 2008 (this was nearly 6 weeks after onset of laminitis and 8 week after she'd got the 'infection'), I went to the stables after school (my PGCE placement) to see how she was getting on, as my husband had noted an improvement on the Sunday/Monday and then she seemed to be in more pain on the Tuesday/Wednesday. I went to have a look at her feet and a couple of liveries came running over when they heard me yell and cry. Her soles had both cracked and I knew that was it. I remember the pain in my chest and being unable to breathe easily and someone taking me out of the stable and then phoning my husband to leave work right away. I phoned my farrier and my vet and I really think they struggled to understand anything I was saying because of how I was stuggling for breath etc. They were both fantastic and came straight away and got there just before my husband. My vet was comforting me while his student had a look at her (with my farrier). They both asked the vet to come in and I saw David's face when he looked at her feet and heard him say to his student 'Oh God'. He told me and my husband, who was now there, that there was not much chance for her to come back from this; it was about 630pm and he said he'd phone a vet in Bristol who specialises in treating lami cases, for advice, and then phone the lami clinic on the Friday morning as soon as they opened (as they were now closed). The Bristol vet looked at the case, heard all about the founder measurements and told David that there was a chance that rubber tubing might work, which he then mentioned to us but told us it was probably not going to work and not to get our hopes up. We went to bed but didn't sleep.
I'd finished my placement so the next day had no school, and went to the stables at 630am to wait to hear from the vet. At about 11am he came out and said to me that with all he'd told Robert Eustace (he spoke directly to RE), Sparkle's ONLY chance was going to be surgery at their clinic in Wiltshire and the chance was about 20% for it working, and even less for her long-term recovery (as in, no immediate recurrences). She'd have to travel 2-3 hours in a trailer to Wiltshire (she was in ENOUGH pain standing/lying in her little stable), be away from her home for several months and if PTS, would be away from us and all her horsey friends. The stress of being up there and of surgery, could have brought on another attack, and we were made fully aware of this. The cost of the surgery and the stay was variable, depending on how long she would have stayed there, but we were told to budget for up to 8k (vets fees on insurance only covered 3k). Getting her onto the trailer could have been near-on impossible, anyway. Robert Eustace said that she was one of the worst cases as far as they go, and one where he was reluctant to guarantee any success, giving just 20% chance when pressed by my vet. I cornered David and asked him what he would do if it was one of his horses; he wouldn't say initially as he didn't want to influence my decision, but he went through everything we'd done, how she'd responded, made me see sense that this could be the end of a very painful road, and said that if you had enough money and no emotional attachment to the horse then the surgery would be a no-brainer, but due to the low odds and the fact that we were so obviously besotted with her, he would not do it.
My husband was at work and I phoned him to tell him what our choices were - surgery or ptc. He cried on the phone but said that his boss would not let him go (he is a carpenter). Then I sent him a picture of Sparkle lying out in her stable, looking for the first time, like she wanted to be put out of pain. Up to that point she'd rarely lied down or looked miserable at all, but on 11th July, she just seemed to give up. My husband left work regardless of his boss, and we spent the rest of the day with her; she put her head in my husband's lap as he lay there with her, and looked like all her energy had been drained from her body. The bute from the day before had worn off at this point, so we gave her some more, in a higher dose, and then phoned the vet to tell him to come and PTS at about 2pm.
David turned up at 630pm and himself was very tearful. We said our goodbyes to her in her stable. She had lots of treats, grass, spoke to our gelding over their stable walls, had lots of cuddles from us and other liveries, then we waled her down the galley towards the school/barn. She struggled a lot with just moving one step so we encouraged her with food and we got there in the end, although it did take a long time. I led her into the barn, cuddled her and kissed her, told her I loved her then left her with my husband and our friend, Keith. I couldn't even manage to stay with her while it happened. She was PTS at 7pm.
The vet came in to get me when it was done, as I brought my gelding out to see she'd gone. He sniffed at her, spooked at her then ran round the school, then walked off back towards the stable block. I still hadn't seen her at this point, but once he'd been put out in his paddock, I went over to her and was shocked at how much peace it brought me to see her gone and finally out of pain. She was still warm and still looked like her, but she was peaceful. The vet showed us all her feet close up and it was then decided that it had definitely been the right decision. The vet gave me a hug and he dealt with the insurance company and disposal etc. We said our goodbyes to her and then went home. The farmer who owned the yard dealt with the people who came to collect her the next day, and we went to sort George out once she'd gone.
To this day I am eaten up by what ifs, and hate myself for not being able to be there with her when she was PTS. I go over and over in my head, what would have happened if we'd taken a different route to her recovery and what would have happened if this or that.
We got her ashes and we scattered them at Christmas, in one of our favourite hacking spots.
I miss her so much. She was only 15 and was such a special little mare whose loss I still cry about pretty much daily.
I needed to get all this out, so strawberries and cream if you actually read it.
Another 10 days later she had more tests and xrays done, which showed slight rotation, worse in one foot. We did all we were told by our vet and she was kept on box rest with soaked hay and a handful of chaff to put her bute in. She was miserable being stuck in, but she kept fighting on, rarely lay down (that we saw) ears constantly pricked, still her happy little self in most respects.
She seemed to recover from the first bout of lami and then just as we thought we could start thinking about her recovery (in several weeks' time) she had another attack and had to have more xrays and blood tests. The blood tests came back with a raised level of something but the vet said it was to do with her immune system's response to the lami and he would investigate further if the cycle continued. At that point, I joined this site to try and get further advice (to that I'd already been getting from our great vet and wonderful farrier), and read all about people like Eaglestone who's horses had had lami and been found to have cushings or EMS. I started researching this and thought it was possible Sparkle might also have it, and wanted to know more about what the raised level was on her blood test. By now, though, she'd had a third attack of laminitis and was just getting worse with each attack; she had yet another set of xrays which showed that she was a sinker. I was doing my PGCE at the time and didn't see her for a couple of days during her third (and last) attack; but she was really my husband's horse and he was looking after her.
We were doing EVERYTHING we'd been told to do, and I was doing so much research. On Thursday 10th July 2008 (this was nearly 6 weeks after onset of laminitis and 8 week after she'd got the 'infection'), I went to the stables after school (my PGCE placement) to see how she was getting on, as my husband had noted an improvement on the Sunday/Monday and then she seemed to be in more pain on the Tuesday/Wednesday. I went to have a look at her feet and a couple of liveries came running over when they heard me yell and cry. Her soles had both cracked and I knew that was it. I remember the pain in my chest and being unable to breathe easily and someone taking me out of the stable and then phoning my husband to leave work right away. I phoned my farrier and my vet and I really think they struggled to understand anything I was saying because of how I was stuggling for breath etc. They were both fantastic and came straight away and got there just before my husband. My vet was comforting me while his student had a look at her (with my farrier). They both asked the vet to come in and I saw David's face when he looked at her feet and heard him say to his student 'Oh God'. He told me and my husband, who was now there, that there was not much chance for her to come back from this; it was about 630pm and he said he'd phone a vet in Bristol who specialises in treating lami cases, for advice, and then phone the lami clinic on the Friday morning as soon as they opened (as they were now closed). The Bristol vet looked at the case, heard all about the founder measurements and told David that there was a chance that rubber tubing might work, which he then mentioned to us but told us it was probably not going to work and not to get our hopes up. We went to bed but didn't sleep.
I'd finished my placement so the next day had no school, and went to the stables at 630am to wait to hear from the vet. At about 11am he came out and said to me that with all he'd told Robert Eustace (he spoke directly to RE), Sparkle's ONLY chance was going to be surgery at their clinic in Wiltshire and the chance was about 20% for it working, and even less for her long-term recovery (as in, no immediate recurrences). She'd have to travel 2-3 hours in a trailer to Wiltshire (she was in ENOUGH pain standing/lying in her little stable), be away from her home for several months and if PTS, would be away from us and all her horsey friends. The stress of being up there and of surgery, could have brought on another attack, and we were made fully aware of this. The cost of the surgery and the stay was variable, depending on how long she would have stayed there, but we were told to budget for up to 8k (vets fees on insurance only covered 3k). Getting her onto the trailer could have been near-on impossible, anyway. Robert Eustace said that she was one of the worst cases as far as they go, and one where he was reluctant to guarantee any success, giving just 20% chance when pressed by my vet. I cornered David and asked him what he would do if it was one of his horses; he wouldn't say initially as he didn't want to influence my decision, but he went through everything we'd done, how she'd responded, made me see sense that this could be the end of a very painful road, and said that if you had enough money and no emotional attachment to the horse then the surgery would be a no-brainer, but due to the low odds and the fact that we were so obviously besotted with her, he would not do it.
My husband was at work and I phoned him to tell him what our choices were - surgery or ptc. He cried on the phone but said that his boss would not let him go (he is a carpenter). Then I sent him a picture of Sparkle lying out in her stable, looking for the first time, like she wanted to be put out of pain. Up to that point she'd rarely lied down or looked miserable at all, but on 11th July, she just seemed to give up. My husband left work regardless of his boss, and we spent the rest of the day with her; she put her head in my husband's lap as he lay there with her, and looked like all her energy had been drained from her body. The bute from the day before had worn off at this point, so we gave her some more, in a higher dose, and then phoned the vet to tell him to come and PTS at about 2pm.
David turned up at 630pm and himself was very tearful. We said our goodbyes to her in her stable. She had lots of treats, grass, spoke to our gelding over their stable walls, had lots of cuddles from us and other liveries, then we waled her down the galley towards the school/barn. She struggled a lot with just moving one step so we encouraged her with food and we got there in the end, although it did take a long time. I led her into the barn, cuddled her and kissed her, told her I loved her then left her with my husband and our friend, Keith. I couldn't even manage to stay with her while it happened. She was PTS at 7pm.
The vet came in to get me when it was done, as I brought my gelding out to see she'd gone. He sniffed at her, spooked at her then ran round the school, then walked off back towards the stable block. I still hadn't seen her at this point, but once he'd been put out in his paddock, I went over to her and was shocked at how much peace it brought me to see her gone and finally out of pain. She was still warm and still looked like her, but she was peaceful. The vet showed us all her feet close up and it was then decided that it had definitely been the right decision. The vet gave me a hug and he dealt with the insurance company and disposal etc. We said our goodbyes to her and then went home. The farmer who owned the yard dealt with the people who came to collect her the next day, and we went to sort George out once she'd gone.
To this day I am eaten up by what ifs, and hate myself for not being able to be there with her when she was PTS. I go over and over in my head, what would have happened if we'd taken a different route to her recovery and what would have happened if this or that.
We got her ashes and we scattered them at Christmas, in one of our favourite hacking spots.
I miss her so much. She was only 15 and was such a special little mare whose loss I still cry about pretty much daily.
I needed to get all this out, so strawberries and cream if you actually read it.
