You know he's kind of a brat when you're not around.
Stephanie was over for dinner with Ryan, and we were talking about horses, as we love to do.
She was talking about Smokey. Smokey is that horse in the barn that is endearing, like an adorable child and can act like one that gets away with everything when at Grandma's house. With me he's not allowed to barge past to eat. Not allowed to do head tossing and twisting as I'm coming down to feed. In fact every horse is to enter quietly, I don't care how hungry they are or how late I am. If not they are last to eat.
No horses chase one another when I come to feed. It made me think about Smokey and how far we've come. I'm a bit down because there simply isn't time right now, not with everything going on, to do what I need to do with my horses. They need to travel, they need to go on trails, they need to be worked more than on Saturday.
Not gonna happen, not for a while.
But knowing my horse behaves well around me somehow made me feel like I'm doing something right in this one little corner of my crazy life.
And it's been crazy. Sierra's vertigo is back. She can't walk unless she closes her eyes, and is restricted to a wheel chair at home. She's missed the first two weeks of school with no end in sight. I finally have an appointment with a specialist on Wednesday (I was going to have to wait two more weeks).
Everything we've tried has failed. Physical therapy. Doctor won't give her any more steroids since it was only a temporary fix.
They want to do an MRI. And the MRI folks would like $$$, even with great insurance.
And don't forget we have her heart test coming up, now scheduled for the 31st.
And then there is the school. I've been keeping them informed and once I realized this new bout of vertigo wasn't going to go away I asked them for options. They needed a note from the doctor to invoke "section 504."
Doctor said "I don't have a diagnosis, you'll have to talk to the specialist."
At that point I couldn't get in with a specialist until the 30th (I have since called a different specialist).
Which means Sierra would fall so behind she might be forced to repeat the year.
Presuming she'll be walking again at some point.
I made an appointment with the doctor (having had all the communication funneled through his assistant). I hoped in person I could plead our case, he could write a note, I could get some help for Sierra for school at least.
He saw how bad she is, which is:
- She can't walk.
- She can't be exposed to loud sounds. Even your normal talking voice seems loud.
- She can't stand.
- She can't be in a place where there is a great deal of movement.
He gave me the note. I dropped her at Grammy's and took the note to the school. They said it was the wrong kind of note.
I lost it.
They've since got what they need, I go in on Tuesday to sign paperwork so she can do online learning.
My only horse time is feeding the horses. These pictures were from Christmas, when Sierra was walking. Before the symptoms came creeping back.
But if all I can do is feed, I'll be damned if horses are going to try to run around me like maniacs. There I have some control. There the world doesn't spin and dive, the ground doesn't shift. There the world runs without red tape, without weeks between appointments, with the simple logic of motion, feed, and the soft nuzzle of a horse looking for a cookie.
And on Friday our car broke down.
I'm really, really tired.