Colic Watch, Night Two

Last night was unusual and tonight isn't looking any different.  My filly, Jetblue, has been running a fever.  One-hundred-four at last check.  The poor girl has a horse-sized tummy ache, a tympanic colic that arrived on the coattails of freezing weather.  Thankfully, Jetblue is still drinking water and producing road apples, albeit far fewer than usual.

Any kind of colic is a serious business.  It can be life-threatening.  So I've been checking on the filly every few hours:  taking her temperature, listening to her wide ranging gut sounds, checking her capillary refill and hydration, her pulse, and respiration.  My veterinarian is on speed dial and we talk.  Frequently.  At the vet's direction, I give Jetblue Banamine to reduce her fever and quell the abdominal pain.

To keep the filly's system moving, she and I have walked and trotted up and down the asphalt into the wee hours.  We've done so to owl hootenannies and dogs barking in the distance.  We've marched before the wild things' watchful eyes, their presence a whisper to my spider senses.

Throughout Jetblue's colic, I've come to realize there are times when my "to do" list is truly immaterial.  When nothing but the task at hand matters.  Plans and appointments go out the window as I work to bring my favorite filly back into balance.  This is my cowgirl version of a firefight -- a cold barn, a warm kissable nose, a shared quest.

A few years back, I lost a horse to a rare type of colic, a torsion of the liver.  The whole event ran less than twenty-four hours start to finish -- healthy horse to no horse.  I did everything I could possibly do and more, but it was never enough.  There simply was no enough.  At the time, finding value and meaning in Jack's passing was a tall, impossible order.  Now, I understand.  Every second of life, even the tough times, is a gift.  As my dad says, "It beats the alternative."

So, fully dressed and bundled in my coat and stocking cap, I set my alarm and stretch out in my favorite chair, savoring the warmth of the fire and hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.  Jetblue's counting on me and so am I.

"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." ~ Art Linkletter