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I took a breath, and settled into my seat, taking a moment to listen to the hustle and bustle of efficiency all around us.
And then I told David about his daughter.
The words no rider wants to hear.A tibial plateau fracture.I mean, I’m no fool. I knew it was bad. I knew as soon as I landed, I even heard the crack. It sounded like a twig breaking, the most surreal sound.
And then there’d been pain.
So much pain.
Fear, too. Fear for me, but mainly for Samson.
My poor furry boy.
I was delivered to some posh hospital, courtesy of my father, and for once I didn’t argue about taking something from him. I just wanted to walk again, wanted to ride again one day, and if he was my best shot, then I’d take it gladly.
I was kept in for over a week. The first days were the worst days. Confined to my bed, in agony every time a muscle twitched, every time I shifted in half-sleep. They brought me a wheelchair after three days, but getting in and out of it was an ordeal, all for the reward of Rick, Carl or Mum wheeling me up and down the corridor awhile. One day we made it outdoors, just to the hospital’s twee little garden, but I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to smell the grass or feelthe breeze on my face. Knowing my furry boy was likely shut away inside somewhere, scared and alone, made my gut churn.
I’d dream about him constantly those first few days, picture him every time I closed my eyes. Reliving those horrible moments over and over, wishing I’d have taken more time, wishing I hadn’t been so reckless, so bloody stupid.
I asked so many questions, about where he was, about how he was doing.
Torn tendons, in his right foreleg.Both superficial and deep digital flexor tendons.They were treating him with cold compress therapy, realigning his hoof with support braces. The rest would be rest. Plenty of rest.
It was doubtful I’d ever ride him again.
It ripped my heart into pieces.
They hardly seemed worth it, the wheelchair excursions, nor the visits Rick, Carl and Mum insisted on daily only to find me doped up or morose, but I made myself smile, made myself say thank you, made myself keep going. Dad stopped by, too, with flowers and a big brightget well sooncard. But it wouldn’t be soon. Not by a long way.
The surgeon waited for the swelling to go down enough to operate, and then there were pins, screws, and a big jagged scar running down my calf.
I tried not to look at it. Tried not to think about it. Tried not to let the gloom swallow me up.
The regime was intense and the days were long. Physiotherapy on my knee, drugs for the pain, scans and examinations and consultations.
And then finally, after the longest ten days of my life, they allowed me home.
I cried when I saw the effort Carl and Rick had gone to. They wheeled meinside with a ‘tada’and the dining room was no more, replaced by a downstairs bedroom. They’d moved their bed,ourbed, all the way from upstairs and set up a chest of drawers for my things. They’d even put some photos up, me and them, and me and Samson, me and my mum, too.
“To keep your spirits up,” Rick said. “Cool, eh? The Katie recovery suite. There’ll be masseurs, and cocktails… the full luxury experience…”
“You didn’t need to do all this,” I blubbed, but Carl kissed my head.
“Wewantedto, Katie, we both wanted to.”
“Don’t think we haven’t missed you, pretty lady,” Rick said. “It’s felt so empty here without you around. Guess you’ve got us pretty hooked.”
I smiled through the tears. “Yeah, well, you’ve got me pretty hooked, too.”
We had to be careful. My position between the guys was no longer tenable, and I was relegated to the outside edge while the two of them slept at a safe distance, their fingers reaching out to touch mine. It was a comfort. They were a comfort.
They became everything in the world to me without even breaking a sweat.
You have no idea how much you take for granted until every little thing is an impossible task. Moving out of bed, getting dressed, taking a pee. Reaching for a drink, showering, grabbing some food.
Any semblance of modesty or personal space I’d ever enjoyed was smashed into oblivion. They bathed me, they dressed me, they wiped my shitty ass. They brought me meals, kept me comfortable, and entertained me.
They made me smile when I didn’t feel like smiling, made me laugh despite the pain. They made me forget my sorry situation when they were around me, when they were loving me just as much as they had before.
