I don't know exactly what I weighed when I left the hospital the second time but it was definitely much less than the 120 pounds I'd weighed the first time. Every bone in my body was exposed and it was painful to sit or lay directly on anything. What strength and stamina I had managed to regain over the summer was gone along with the weight. Once again I was a decrepit, fragile old woman.
The first time I left the hospital my mind set was different. Despite the condition of my body, I still felt vibrant and alive on the inside. My psyche was strong and had not succumbed to the ravages my body had endured.
The second time around I felt beat down. The exploitation by Kelly Panowicz and Crystal Baker had taken its toll. For the first time in many years I struggled with feelings of powerlessness and then my body, once again, was rendered nearly useless.
It is hard to describe the effect such an onslaught does to the human psyche. It was like I had been living in a war zone. There was no way to get free of the continuing attacks on my being and there was no way to define who the enemy was. I didn't know if I would wake up in the morning and I'm not sure I cared if I did. The only indication I had the will to live lay in the fact I did wake up each morning but some days I wasn't sure I was pleased to see the sun. I was as close to death as I have ever been....and I didn't really care the Grim Reaper was stalking me.
The only thing I cared about was my horses and I really was not sure if my horses were better off with me.....or without me. I was, however, very glad to be going home. If there was anything I could put my finger on that was killing me it was that hospital. Being alone twenty-three hours a day was sucking what little life I had right out of me. Had I not been discharged when I was, I really don't know if I would have survived. My circumstances were that dire.
I knew when I got home I was not strong enough to get to the barn but I longed to hear the voices of my horses and the thunder of their hooves. I had been in the hospital so long I could no longer even imagine these sounds. My soul was literally dying and I knew the only thing that could infuse life back into its withering essence was a horse.
It didn't matter which horse. Any one of mine would be a suitable ambassador for all of them. I just needed to hear one with my own ears. I needed to feel the vibrancy, the power, the passion that is the Arabian horse reverberate through my very being. I needed a transfusion of life from the only creature on earth I knew would never betray me.
To those who don't understand what horses do for those of us who love them this will make no sense. For those who must feel or touch one to experience what I needed let me say I have had an uncanny connection with the Arabian horse for as far back as I can remember. At this point. I just needed proof they were still there. For me there is comfort in everything about them from the littlest things on up to the biggest, most powerful aspects of them.
In my current beaten down state, the evidence of their majestic power was what I needed most. I needed to feel power that meant no harm to me but could inspire awe in even kings, power that has been longer than most of life's forces have even existed. The voice of a stallion announcing his presence can rattle the windows on my house. I needed that sound to believe the world could right itself again....no matter how bad life appeared to be.
Of course, it took the entire day to get my discharge processed. The nurse trying to get it done was called away a dozen times before the process was complete. What had begun before daylight was not finished by nighttime. I literally lay in my hospital bed crying to get out.
Of course, the horses were in the barn for the night so it was too late to hear or see what I longed for most when I got here. At least my farm still smelled like a farm so I drank in the scent of horses until my legs would no longer support me. I went to sleep that night longing for the daylight for the first time in nearly a month.
In the morning Dave had to leave early to take care of errands he'd missed the day before because he'd spent the whole day at the hospital waiting for my discharge to be processed. The horses were still eating their breakfast when he left so there would be no horse in the front paddock until he got home.
Then when he arrived home there was a new threat. On our farm gates was a green hang tag from Pierce County Animal Control notifying us a complaint had been filed claiming there were 29 starving and neglected Arabian horses living on the property in deplorable conditions so they needed us to call to set up an appointment for them to inspect the horses ASAP.
Instead of the infusion of hope I needed from the sounds of one of my stallions in the front paddock, what I got was another agonizing blow delivered to my already dying psyche. There was no way to cut me deeper or quicker than to level such charges. This attack was as vicious as it was unfounded and it rocked my world in ways I still cannot explain. What kind of person would do such a thing?
To be continued....
What to Think About Hang Tags and Evildoers.....