And that was that. Seven weeks went by, and my hand healed. The pins came out on Tuesday afternoon, I rode Elvis—the one of my animals I trust not to be strong or feral or both—Wednesday morning. Farm holiday party Thursday morning, followed by packing-palooza Thursday afternoon. “Christmas” dinner with my partner and his kids Friday night. And then hopping in my truck with most of my stuff and the best dog ever for the two-day drive to Welly-world.
I can’t say that the time has “flown by.” It’s been tedious and frustrating. My hand hurt, a lot, for a long time. I felt like a baby for not be
ing able to push through; forget wanting to ride, I just wanted to be able to do ANYTHING, and any activity that got my heart rate up was a no-no, because of the pain and the swelling. So my very fit and trim, eating great and riding five to six horses a day and going to the gym four days a week self, had to be basically sedentary for the duration of my healing. I’m heading to Florida with a body that feels like a ton of bricks; a right hand that, while liberated from the pins, is stiff as hell and filled with awe-inspiring swelling; and more than a little frustration.
Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!