Death Visits Ridecamp, Conclusion

[Howard4567@aol.com]

Death Visits Ridecamp
Part Two (conclusion)

The stories continue, beer bottles appear from coolers scattered nearby, and 
this one young woman, Debbie, asks me about my endurance writing.  She's read 
a couple of the stories, finds them funny, but wants to know why, in person, 
I sound like one of the Sopranos (HBO Show) who live in New Jersey.  She was 
expecting a Southern twang or some kind of drawl.  

I try and explain to her that it was my misfortune to be born a Yankee.  My 
mother was born in Virginia, but got transplanted to Delaware, where I was 
born, at an early age.  Eventually my family ended up in Philadelphia, which 
is where my accent comes from.  I've tried everything I can to lose it, but 
those Learn To Speak Southern courses I have on tape just don't seem to work 
for me.  I try and convince her that my heart belongs to Dixie, inspite of my 
family's misfortune of living in Pennsylvania for a spell, and that I'll 
never leave the South.  Even though some don't consider Florida to be a true 
Southern State, I do.

I have found that the further north I go on these endurance rides, places 
like Georgia and the Carolinas, the more Southern the people seem to speak.  
And there are different dialects amongst the riders.  Susan speaks 
Kentuckian, even though she lives in Tennessee.  Angie has this Reba McIntire 
thing going, and I believe Reba grew up in Oklahoma, which is where I'm 
hoping Angie might move to someday.  Native Floridians, like Jackie and 
Sandy, don't seem to have a Southern drawl at all, but it isn't Yankee speak 
either.  Go figure.

While I'm talking with Debbie, Jennifer comes up to me and gives me a look, 
the one that says I'm not allowed to speak alone with young women for too 
long, Mom says.  haha.  It's time for some food anyway, some of the riders 
get into a truck and head out for a restaurant.  I wanted to join them, but 
am just a little too tired and know that a few drinks at a restaurant can 
turn into a few more and the next thing you know you're back at camp, don't 
feed the horses and wake up the next day feeling lousy.

So, instead, I do feed the horses, Jennifer and I eat some sandwiches and I 
have another beer.  I get Jen to pump up the air mattress and after a while 
she's off to bed.  It's a little chilly but not enough to fire up my propane 
heater that sucks up all the oxygen and is dangerous as Hell.  Emergency use 
only, and I'm hoping it won't be needed here this week end.  

We get up kind of early the next day, Friday, I feed the horses and pull out 
my alcohol burner, making sure not to put it under a tree.  The thing is so 
dirty from black fumes that have backfired my hands get that nasty sooty 
stuff on them every time I touch it.  But coffee is coffee and hot water must 
be attained.  Plus I have some bagels that need to be toasted.  I light the 
burner, successfully for once, and put on the tea kettle that no longer has 
that plastic thing on the opening, the one that whistles to let you know 
water's done.  It melted on me last trip so I just pulled it off with a pair 
of pliers.

Getting here early is kind of nice, even though I'm still not a big fan of 
camping out.  There is a shower here at the ride,  but there's only one and I 
know that the women are not gonna let me stand in line with them for long 
when the need for cleanliness hits the critical stage. They can tell I'm 
enjoying myself way too much watching them come out of the shower, some not 
wearing too much, so they usually make me leave.  Besides my back and legs, 
which I know will be killing me tomorrow afternoon, require a hot tub and a 
professional rub down.  I feel the pain just thinking of trying to finish a 
50 mile ride.

The water boils, I makes some coffee, eat a bagel and sit back and think, "It 
doesn't get much better than this."  Well, actually it does but I'm satisfied 
anyway.  It's a beautiful morning and the scenery has hills, trees, neat 
looking red clay, and I could see living here with no problem.  I see a young 
woman walking towards me and now things are really looking up.

It's Debbie and she sits down and joins me for coffee.  She's from North 
Carolina and we talk about an endurance ride that I did up there last year.  
I've always suspected that the best riders and horses train in mountains 
cause it is more demanding than flat country, although cantering for long 
distances also seems to have its advantages.  Debbie's alone and asks if she 
can join me and Jennifer and a few others who are planning on going riding a 
little later, as soon as Sandy gets back with my ice. I had asked Sandy last 
night if she would get me some when she went into town.   My cooler lid is 
warped due to my burner setting it on fire, so ice doesn't last long for me.  
I assure Deb that we'll stop by her trailer so she can join us to ride and 
inspect the trails.  

Sandy finally shows up with some ice, I remove the duck tape from the cooler 
and put in two bags.  My beer thanks me as I shut the cooler.  I really need 
to get to Wal Mart soon and buy a new cooler.  I forgot to tell y'all about 
the Wal Mart contest me and Susan and a few of the others had last night.  
I'm still not sure who won.  I think it was me, but Susan definitely ran a 
close second.  My riding boots (they're not Ariats) were from WM.  My shirt, 
socks and underwear, cooler, ten gallon water jug, were from Wal Mart.  
Breakfast - Wal Mart.  You get the idea.  But I sure wasn't alone.  If Sam 
wasn't a Southerner he should have been, cause we put his business on the map.

We all finally got our horses saddled up and headed out on the trail, none of 
us having much of a clue as to where to go.  We just went.  Dance was on 
fire.  I just love showing off my horse.  He picks his legs up so high and 
loves to race past all the tiny Arabs.  Jen tries to pass me a few times 
without much success.  Debbie has a young Arab that I would love to own.  
Looks like Rebel a little, has that flea bitten grey color, but with a lot 
more flea bites.  Her horse is young and a bit wild; I like them that way.  
He dumped her somewhere on the trail and we had a lose horse for a while.  I, 
being the lone male, caught up to him and returned her horse to her. I got a 
hug for my reward; I'm such a cowboy sometimes.  She wasn't hurt and got 
right back on.

OK, I'm gonna cut to the chase since most of you just have to know how Dance 
is and probably aren't reading much else anyway.  I'll finish this tale 
another time, maybe never, in my normal slow, drawn out fashion.  For now 
we'll go to the "writer on speed" version.

The preride dinner and briefing went well.  There was one lady, the one who 
gave the pre-ride prayer, Lucy, who got my attention.  She was talking about 
her Grand kids and mentioned one year where she had them all at this ride, 
and one month later one of them was killed, in an automobile crash.  That one 
got to me and quite a few others, maybe Death is always hanging around, we 
just choose not to look at him most of the time.

The ride manager went over the trail and it was kind of screwy.  So many 
intersections, crossings, circular turns and trail overlaps I knew this was 
going to be a tough ride.  Plus throw in a long stretch next to a road with 
car traffic, some kind of regatta Basketball tournament that we were going to 
have to ride thru and I had the feeling we weren't out in the country, 
isolated like most rides.  This was a suburb of a big city and parts of it 
were like riding thru Central Park.

Jen and I get a good nights sleep and I'm up early the next day.  I have no 
intention of missing the start of this ride like I did at the Far Out 
Forrest.  We saddle up and I spot Nina and Susan.  I know they are familiar 
with this trail and I know they ride fast.  Course me and my competitive 
sidekick are not at all intimidated by this fact so we decide to give them a 
run.  This was probably my first error with Dance, even though he does love 
to haul ass.

So this we do.  And Nina is a nut.  Going thru threes at a canter and only 
slowing down to a trot when absolutely necessary.  Some parts of this ride 
you can't even see a trail, you just go from ribbon to ribbon.  The trees are 
so close together I have to take my feet out of the stirrups to get thru 
sometimes.  And there are a few hills, not mountains, but definitely some 
hills.  And whack, I just smacked my knee into one of those trees trying to 
keep up with Nina.  I start cursing, forgetting to say "Angie."  And I don't 
stop with the nasty mouth.  Jen is all over me about it, but it's just my way 
of dealing with a crazy trail.  I'm still behind Nina and Susan and Jen is 
right behind me.  We pass Susan once in a while, but I never try to pass 
Nina.  She is an expert at not getting lost here and I like her leadership 
style, even if it is a bit whacky (yea, I know Nina, the pot calling the 
kettle black).

We get into the vet check and not too many are ahead of us.  I can't believe 
anyone is ahead of us, these riders are just unbelievable to me.  We fly thru 
the vet check, but I have no intention of keeping up with these people any 
more.  Both horses eat great, I grab a beer to calm down, and we have a seat. 
 Jennifer is pumped up and doesn't want me to take our time.  She wants to go 
the minute our out time hits.  Since I'm the only one with a watch I figure 
I'll just fib to her about the time.  

So we leave ten minutes later than our out time and damn if Jennifer doesn't 
ask the clipboard lady for our out time and the time she has now.  And I hear 
about that the entire second loop. "Watch not working, Dad?"  Now the second 
loop was half as long as the first and not near as difficult, especially with 
those darn trees.  My knee has stopped bleeding, but these tights will have a 
new patch on them over the knee next ride.

We get in quick, but we're way back now.  And it's just fine with me, but my 
sidekick has gotten way too competitive and it's bugging her.  She wants to 
pick up the pace.  Both horses eat great and go through the vet check quickly 
with no problems.  Dance is full of life and Rebel is being an Arab.  Much 
calmer than Dance, but Reb is also into this run.

Now the next loop is the first one, again, and is 17 miles.  I know this is 
gonna be the killer loop, cause this ride is not Florida, deep sand or no 
deep sand.   The hills and wet clay are definitely taking their toll.  But up 
to this point the two horses seem fine.  And they're both eating hay and beet 
pulp.

We do a lot of walking and trotting, but not too much cantering on our last 
loop.  The road traffic is dangerous and I will not return to this ride, with 
a junior,  next year because of it.  Like I said earlier, it feels like 
Central Park in some places here and the road is one of them.  Now I gotta 
tell you about this basketball thing.  No one was there the first time around 
but they are there now.  Cars everywhere and off to the side it must be 
hundreds of basketball courts filled with over a thousand kids.  Whistles 
everywhere, loud rock and roll music, voices blaring over an incredibly loud 
intercom system.  And we're riding right thru the entire thing.  Talk about 
stressing out your horse!

And towards the end of the loop I can tell Dance is tired.  I can just feel 
it.  We get back to camp, go to the vet check and Dance's heart rate is high. 
 66, 68 and he stays that way for a while.  I finally get him down, we get 
thru it, but looking back on it now, this is where I should have pulled.  It 
might have been too late even here, I'm not sure.  And the key, the damn key, 
was he didn't eat anything.  A little hay, but no beet pulp.  Rebel didn't 
eat much either; they were both tired.

But I did the last loop.  I made him do it and this is where I think I should 
be taken out and flogged for doing so.  When we got back to camp Dance was so 
tired he went down.  I knew he was tired, but Dance never lays down at these 
things, not even during the night.  And I was extremely worried.  Rebel was 
fine, after a while I even let Jen take him for the completion check.  But I 
didn't go with Dance.  Something's seriously wrong.  I checked his heart rate 
and it was high, mid 70's.  

I get him up and take him to the vets.  Now this is when it really gets 
freaky.  I'm pulling on him, really hard, he doesn't want to walk even, and 
suddenly this green liquid comes out of his nose. And I'm not talking snot 
here.  It's liquid and there is a lot of it.  Just unbelievable.  I get him 
to the area and just walk by the others in line.  Someone actually says 
something to me about cutting in line, but I ignore her totally.  I find the 
head vet and tell her what's wrong.  She drops what she's doing and gets 
another vet nearby, who I guess is on standby for stupid riders like myself.

He comes over, I tell him about the liquid, he says the horse is refluxing, 
not good, and the vet starts moving very quickly.  He sedates Dance, puts a 
tube in his nose, down his throat and into his stomach.  Gallons, and I mean 
gallons of liquid come out of Dance's stomach.  And now we've drawn a small 
crowd.  Jen comes up to me and asks what's wrong.  Tears are in her eyes and 
I don't have a good answer for her right now.  

The vet is asking me a ton of questions while he's working and I'm realizing 
things are about as bad right now, as they can possibly get.  He shaves a 
portion of Dance's neck, explains that the horse will need IV's since we just 
pumped out his stomach and inserts a needle into a vein on the left side of 
Dance's neck.  I tell him where my camping spot is and he says he'll meet me 
there.  The vet's name is Todd and I recognize him from the Liberty Run ride 
in Georgia.  I hope he hasn't read my story from that ride.

Dance is walking very slowly and I know his system has shut down.  I 
contemplate suicide as I walk with my buddy to our camp.  I just stand and 
wait.  Rebel is making his noises, the ones that gave him his nickname, and 
wants to know what the heck is going on.  A friend has taken Jen away from 
the action for me; it's all I can do to stand up.  Todd drives his small 
truck up and we look around for someplace to hang the IV bottles.  Since I 
had parked next to a group of trees, Todd finds a sturdy one, and up he goes. 
 Of all the things I bring with me to a ride, a ladder is not one of them.  
Someone gives Todd a lead rope and he hooks up the bags with the rope, lets 
the remainder of the rope drop down, a helper ties it to a tree branch and I 
help get the tubes close to Dance's neck.  

Todd comes back down the tree, hooks up the tubes from the IV to the needle 
already in Dance's neck.  The liquid isn't coming out fast enough, Todd goes 
back up the tree, adjusts the bags for a better angle and comes back down.  
He's got two huge bags connected to one another and tells me it will probably 
be two hours before we need to change them.  He checks Dance's vitals, tells 
me no gut sounds, and I feel faint.  

Friends come up to me (please don't hug me), they can tell I've been crying, 
one of them asks if I need a break and I say no.  I don't deserve a friggen 
break and I will stay here with him every minute.  I can't tell you how bad I 
feel.  If he dies tonight, part of me will die tonight, and no matter what, I 
will never be the same.  My cocky attitude has just been extracted and I 
don't want a refill.

During the course of the night, I learn about refluxing.  It's a term 
defining the stuff coming out of the stomach and is a horse's version of 
throwing up.  When this happens the horse is most likely going to die, 
because it usually means the stomach has ruptured and there's no way to 
repair that, not even surgically.  No one actually came out and told me all 
this in one swoop, but as the night went on, as more IV bags were added, I 
learned, bits and pieces that Dance was probably a goner.

Around 9PM, after the awards dinner, Jennifer shows up and tells me she's 
going to bed.  She hugs me, gives me a kiss, and says, "Don't let Dance die 
Daddy," and walks off.  Nina and Susan were standing nearby and I know they 
heard Jen say this.  Todd had told me earlier that Jen had come up to him at 
the dinner and asked him questions, similar to what she just said to me.  "Is 
my horse gonna die?  Are you going to save him?  Tell me the truth."  Todd 
said he had never had one so young be so direct about the whole thing and it 
threw him.

So this is where I started my story and I know you all want to know the rest 
really bad.  So here it is.  Take it for what it's worth; I'm not trying to 
sell you anything here.  I'm alone.  We're on the third and fourth IV bag and 
Todd is due back in about 30 minutes.  Most have gone to bed, I did have Jay 
and Mary help me, they put an extra blanket on Dance, one that fits him 
better than mine, Jay even added a towel under it to keep his back end warm.  
I asked Jay for a cigarette and he gave me an entire pack.  Jay brings me 
some coffee, I get the feeling that he's been through something similar.  
Everyone has tried to help, but I can't leave Dance Line for hardly a minute 
except to hit the bathroom.

Dance is shivering so I get out of my chair to hold his head.  My stomach is 
so messed up I throw up right there next to him.  I start thinking about just 
who the hell I am.   What is wrong with me, to be so competitive that I get 
my horse into this position?  And he is my best friend, I don't make or keep 
human ones very easily.  

So this atheist, Yankee turned redneck, retired Air Force, wanna be endurance 
rider looks up and asks.  I ask God to save him.  I tell him I knew I fu**** 
up and I will tell the world that I did, if only he lets him live.  And I 
will never deny the existence of a supreme being again.  Never, no matter how 
full of myself I ever get.  And I beg.  And I do say it outloud, I want no 
room for doubt here.

Yes, I did lose it that night.  As much as you can, and like I said before 
this is a weak area for me.  I cannot handle Death and I probably never will. 
 The only thing worse, to me, would be if this was happening to a family 
member, and if it were Jennifer, I doubt I'd be able to maintain 
consciousness.  They'd have to sedate me.  This I know.  

So the vet shows up, on time, and I've never seen a guy work harder on 
anything.  Poor Todd has met Jennifer and he will not let this horse die if 
there is any way of saving him.  He checks the pulse.  It's down!  I mean 
down.  He checks the gut.  The sound is there.  It's making noise.  I see 
shock on Todd's face and I know it's on mine.  I knew Todd did not expect 
this, especially this early.  He had told me this IV thing might take three 
days before the horse turned around, if he ever turned around.

Now I knew we weren't totally out of the woods.  There's still something 
blocking back there and until we have some poop and urine, things could just 
go back to the way they were.  He tells me not to let the horse eat or drink, 
that we can take him off the IV's but he has to not eat anything thru the 
night.  We had talked about this earlier and I knew the only way to do this 
was to put him in the trailer.  Dance has never been tied up overnight and I 
knew this was the only way to tie him up safely.

So that's what I do.  Nina M. is up late tonight and helps me while I connect 
the truck back up to the horse trailer, not an easy task to perform in the 
dark.  Plus I have a ton of stuff in the trailer that I have to get out.  I 
do this while Nina is walking Dance and not letting him eat grass.  Dance has 
some of his strength back, he's definitely better.  Nina watches me load 
Dance and comments on the beer bottles on the ground.  I'm a sloppy camper, 
what can I say.

I get him in the trailer and sit in my chair.  I'm not planning on sleeping 
too much, but I do get a wink or two.  So much for my traditional nap after a 
ride.  Around 2 AM I hear pee.  I rush out of my chair, grab a flash light 
and climb up the side.  I want to see the color cause this is important.  And 
it looks clear, or yellow, or whatever.  In other words it looks normal, not 
red or dark.  Damn.  And today is Sunday.  I don't think Church is ready for 
me quite yet, but I'm looking up and things are definitely improving.

Around 4 or 5 AM there's a poop.  Not much of one, but Dance does poop.  And 
I dance around the horse trailer, announcing to the world, "he pooped, he 
friggen pooped."  A stranger watching me would have thought I had gone 
totally insane.  And he just might be right.

So that's it.  I cut the tale short, I'm sorry, but I know you had to know.  
We made it back home just fine, Dane Line is dancing in my back yard, right 
now as I write this closing paragraph or two.  You'd never know anything ever 
happened except for that shaved patch on his neck, where the needle went in.  
Will I ever ride him in endurance again?  I don't know.  Will I sell him?  
Never.  Will Jen ride again?  Most definitely.  In fact if you do slow 50's, 
and I mean slow 50's, wear ear plugs (you'll need them with Jen, aka "Mouth 
of the South") let me know. She needs a sponsor.  I will be looking for a 
tall Arab (is there such a creature) for me, but it will only be for 25's.  
If I ever do a 50 again, it will be quite awhile, at least a year after I 
start doing 25's with a new horse.  Will I ever beat Angie in a 50?  Probably 
not, but that no longer concerns me.

I didn't write this for you to find religion or to torment you on whether 
Dance Line lived or died.  I wrote it to show you how stupid I was and for 
you to know how awful things can get, even if you are super careful.  I will 
never judge you or what you do with your horse and if you choose to judge me, 
that's just fine.  I won't disagree or argue.   I just ask that you take it 
one loop at a time, that maybe you look at how badly you want to win in our 
sport, and if you get a feeling something's wrong, even if you fly thought 
the vet checks, go with your feeling, and don't be afraid to pull your horse 
on your own.  You'll feel better about yourself in the morning if you do.  
Luck, coincidence, Divine Intervention?  I really don't know; I just know I'm 
no longer an atheist.

Yours,
Howard