Miss Priss. She is my accident prone girl. She turns 2 this month and she has already had her fair share of injuries. You can see the scab on her back leg from where she laid it open down to the bone and severed her tendon. That took months and months to heal. Still healing cause she keeps bustin' it back open. She just can't keep from hurtin' herself. Her latest is fluid on her other back leg. Why, who knows!
Sunday evening the husband and I worked on draining it. No big deal. But then it happened...blood! Yes, BLOOD! Maybe I should preface this with the wife and blood do NOT co-mingle in any form or fashion. The wife hates blood. Doesn't give blood cause it should remain in her body. Blood is her enemy, her cryptonite.
Okay, so I have a small issue with the juice of life. But I thought I had overcome a lot of my problems after all the doctorin' on Priss. I've even had co-workers refer to me as Doc cause all the bandaging up I've done on this horse. Well my issues rushed back Sunday.
The husband was draining the fluid as I held Priss. Then I saw it....drippin' onto the ground. And then the conversation went like this:
W: "Umm, husband, she's bleeding."
H: "Yeah, I must have hit her vein."
W: "Umm, how much more do you have to do?"
H: "Just a little more, why?"
W: "I'm not feelin' too well." Laying my head on Priss.
H: "Go sit down."
W: "No, I'm okay. Just a little light headed." Having a hard time picking up my head.
H: "Go sit down! I can't have you passin' out under the horse! And take the needle and syringe with ya. Here's the cap too." (Yeah, nothing like giving a pre-passout woman a needle to cap!)
I turned and walked toward the feed sacks with the syringe.
As I leaned up against them, I try to put the cap on the needle. I manage to do it without hurtin' myself. Then the husband brought me a wet paper towel. But all I could think about was laying down. So I decided to head towards the hay.....
All I remember about the walk to the hay was I don't remember being able to see anything clearly and my feet were very heavy. I was so glad when I hit the hay. Sweet hay, it feels so good to lay on you. I don't care that the dogs are attacking my head. I'm just trying to stay put on the twirling bale of hay. Then the husband yells to me, "Guess vet school is out of the question."
Hey, I would be a kick butt vet until something bled! Take that!
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