Sometime mid Saturday morning, I got a call from the nurse. She had been to a function at her grange so had the opportunity to speak to a number of her friends about the situation here. Turned out not only were some of them horse people but they were Arabian horse enthusiasts as well. These women were definitely interested in coming to look at free horses.
The nurse was calling to see if she could bring out four women on Wednesday evening after she got off work. She didn't know exactly what time that might be since she planned to meet them in Puyallup sometime after 5 and lead them out to my farm. The women would be coming from the Olympia area which is an hour away and she would be calling them when she knew for sure what time she would be done with her last call of the day.
One of these women is a farrier. Being told my horses hadn't been trimmed in a while, she volunteered to do a few of the worst while she was here. Just knowing that was a big relief because I am not one to let my horses go.
The fact they hadn't been done since my illness had been one of the things that Kelly had described as being neglectful. Those words had stabbed me like a sword but I hadn't stopped to think how inappropriate the comment was. I had been discharged from the hospital about a month at this time so I was behind the schedule I normally keep but nowhere near the amount of time that could reasonably be called neglectful. The fact this didn't occur to me just another indication of how really sick I was.
The rest of the weekend I used what energy I had to show Dave and Lindsay how to feed the products I had selected to supplement the hay we had. I have used beet pulp and senior feed before but I have always taken care of it myself. I pushed myself through guiding them despite the fact I was shaky on my feet. I was taking no more chances things might not be done properly. The whole process of soaking and measuring seemed to overwhelm them both but I was grateful to even have these products to feed.
The unexpected need for additional feed had knocked our strained budget for a loop. The only thing that saved us was some blogging friends.
Shirley from Ride a Good Horse had auctioned off, as a fund raiser when she first learned of my diagnosis, a piece of artwork she had done of her grandfather's horses Several of my blogging friends bid on the piece and it was won by BrownEyed Cowgirls.
The money arrived here just as this emergency arose. That generous donation, some donations gathered by Mrs Mom and the gift of a ton of quality hay from fernvalley helped get me through a very difficult time. Not knowing what the problem was with my feed really fed the doubt Kelly planted in my head. Having quality feed to begin fixing whatever caused this problem brought such a huge relief to my tortured soul. Words cannot express what this meant to me. Thank you, Ladies! I love you all!!
Lifelines from totally unexpected places began to restore some semblance of control in my world gone mad. I was not out of the woods yet but at least I was beginning to feel the ground even if I hadn't been able to find my feet.
I thought the trainer coming would build on this foundation. There was no way I could have known her intent was to do quite the opposite.
To be continued......
The Trainer's Visit.......
Note: I realized as I did this that I did the post on the trainer background out of sequence. I apologize if I have confused anyone but I promise the beginning of her part in all of this begins with the next post.