The Departure of Miss Beauty
My birthday was Sunday, January 24th and I was looking forward to a quiet and relaxing weekend. The only item on our “to do list” was a dinner invitation with some close friends. Friday afternoon I finish up at the fire department and head to the ranch, arriving home about 5:30 p.m. One of our horses, Mr. Ace, is running back and forth between the front pasture and the orange groves. This is not unusual behavior for him. Every now and then he will be grazing and will look up and not see the two other horses. This will cause him to panic and he will run around until he finds them. I think nothing of his antics and go inside to change clothes before calling them all up for feeding. I had no idea that a few minutes later my entire weekend would be redefined - as is often the case here.
I come out of the house and Mr. Ace is still running back and forth hollering. The last time this happened was when Dan’s horse had opened a gate with his mouth and gotten into the “house yard” to graze on our front lawn. Dan’s horse, Thunder, has a nick name of “Houdini”. I check the yard for any unauthorized animals. It’s all clear. I start to look for the other horses wondering if they have escaped into the neighbors pasture (that happened last year when the wind blew a gate open). I look across the middle pasture to the front pasture and see Dan’s horse standing over Beauty. Beauty is laying on the ground and rolling from side to side. Horses have two distinct ways that they roll. One way is when they are itchy and they roll from side to side to scratch their back. The other way is when they have abdominal pain, also known as colic, and the back legs are rolling to one side while the front legs are rolling to the other side. This type of roll can be deadly for a horse, since they can twist their colon and it is the roll that Beauty is doing.
I run almost 1,000 feet up to the front pasture. Beauty is laying on the ground drenched in sweat and is curling her bottom lip. These are also classic signs of severe colic. Untreated, colic will kill an animal in a few hours. I dial Dan on my cell phone and tell him to come home as fast as he can. I run back to the house and grab our drug box, which is a fishing tackle box filled with various medications that the vet recommends you have on site. There are several goals in treating colic, including giving the horse some drugs to take the pain away, rehydrating them, giving them something to help pass a blockage, and - perhaps most importantly - getting them up and making them walk. I am mentally running down this checklist of issues as I throw equipment and the tackle box into our pickup truck and drive back up to the front pasture. I dial our horse vet and leave a message on his answering machine. He is the only large animal vet in our area but is stationed in the next County. Under the best of circumstances it will take him over an hour to get here.
I reach Beauty and start to do a more thorough exam. She is laying on her side, wet with sweat and - to make matters worse - her heart rate is 80. A horses normal heart rate is about 30 to 40 and 80 is a sign of pain and stress. She has grass in her coat and main and I am wondering how long she has been down. There has been no change in the last 24 hours with their food, with the environment or temperature, or other factors that contribute to colic.
Banamine is one of the preferred drugs to use for pain control in a horse. Dan arrives and helps me hold Beauty so I can give her 5cc’s of Banamine IV push in her neck vein. I know I can give much more than 5 cc’s, but I need to get confirmation on the proper emergency dose. I have memorized the emergency dose of another drug called Dexamethasone which we give to Ace for breathing trouble. That dose if 30 cc’s IV push but I have to make sure I don’t give too much Banamine. We have to balance pain control with the need to keep her awake enough so she can stand up and start walking. Dan is a bit upset that I don’t have the Banamaine emergency dose written down on a piece of paper in the drug box. I call our back up vet (who is two counties away) and leave a message and then text him. I then call our next door neighbor to confirm the drug dose. Fred answers his cell phone laughing and there is a party in the background. He is at High Tide Harry’s restaurant in Orlando. I ask him the dose and do not get a clear answer. Next, I call Pat, one of our other neighbors. He is not sure of the full emergency dose and says he will call me right back. I am both impatient and worried that we are running out of time and that every minute is going to make a difference in the outcome. I then dial a good friend, Bill, for the same information. Bill tells me there are several factors to consider and starts to ask me some questions. As we talk, my cell phone beeps with an incoming call. I tell Bill I have to go, it’s the vet calling back on the other line. I answer the ringing line but it’s my neighbor Pat, who is telling me that he called Fred, and they both agreed that the emergency dose is somewhere between 20 and 30 cc’s. Pat also mentions that Fred is leaving dinner and coming out to help us. It will take him about 40 minutes to reach us.
This entire time, Dan and I have been struggling to get Beauty to stand up. She weighs more than 1,000 pounds and will not budge. She keeps rolling on her side and her eyes are rolling up behind her eyelids. I start tucking blankets under her to keep the damp ground from absorbing more heat and worsening her shock. The phone rings and the vet is returning my call. But, it isn’t our normal vet, it is a vet who is covering for him, and is someone we have never dealt with before. I explain the situation and advise him that I have already given 5cc of Banamine IV and was about to give more. He tells me to give 10 more cc’s IV push now and try to get her up. He is finishing up with another emergency and will call me back in 30 minutes for an update. It will take him more than two hours to reach our ranch.
Using a soft voice asking Beauty to get up, mixed with some yelling, Dan is able to get Beauty to stand up. The time is 6:40 p.m. This is a major accomplishment. I need to give her the additional drugs but am having trouble finding her neck vein probably due to dehydration. Horses have a large vein in their neck that is literally the size of a garden hose and usually very easy to palpate. After several minutes of feeling her neck and missing with the needle, I finally hit the vein, get a good blood return in the syringe and give her the additional Banamine. The sun has almost set and Dan is now walking Beauty in a large circle. He decides to walk her back to the barn where we will have lights and more equipment. I gather up all of the gear we had brought up front and drive the pickup truck to the back.
Beauty is now in her stall, lip curling and soaking wet with sweat. Her heart rate is up to 100, her temperature is 99, and I don’t hear any bowel sounds with my stethascope. The vet calls me back to check in. I tell him her current status and he advises me that the heart rate can’t be 100. I tell him I used to work as a firefighter paramedic and that I double checked it am sure that is the correct number. He still sounds doubtful of my report. He is just leaving the office in St. Cloud (Osceola County) and is heading our way. It will take him about an hour to reach us.
A few more phone calls are received from the vet to confirm the directions to our ranch, to confirm the gate code and to confirm that he missed his turn and went too far up Fort Christmas Road. It is now 8:55 p.m. and he is arriving. He does a quick but thorough exam, confirms her heart rate is 100, and decides to give Beauty a combination of two very powerful narcotics to relieve the pain, including Torbugesic. This should bring the heart rate down as well. Dan takes Beauty for another walk. The doctor is very worried that the problem is a torsion, where her bowel has twisted on itself. The only remedy is emergency surgery and the only hospital that will perform surgery like this is up in Gainesville at the University of Florida College of Vetinerary Medicine. That would be a 2 hour drive by trailer and she can’t be moved until we can control her pain. There is a small chance that she has a blockage that will respond to conventional treatment. A large NG tube is placed down her throat into her stomach followed by an oil treatment and an electrolyte fluid boost. I place the first of what would be three painful calls to Beauty’s owner to advise that we are in the middle of a crisis and are doing all that we can and that things don’t look good. Audrey is in North Carolina and is devastated by the news. We are asked to do everything possible.
It’s now 10:00 p.m. and Beauty’s heart rate is down to 48. I view this as excellent news, but the vet says it should be 30 or lower based on all the drugs she has in her system. We continue to take turns walking Beauty around the back pasture. She seems more relaxed and is walking without difficulty. The vet says that the pain meds need to last at least six hours. We can’t give her any medication sooner than that, or we will risk creating a different kind of emergency. The vet expresses worry that the medication is not going to last very long at all. His original plan was to leave us with additional pain medication to treat her overnight and he would probably have to leave to go get ready for the next emergency. Fortunately, his beeper is quiet, there are no other calls and he decides to stay with us until at least midnight.
It’s now 11:30 p.m. and Beauty’s heart rate is back up to 80, her lip is curling again and she is trying to lay down. The vet is now convinced that Beauty can’t hold out long enough for the treatment to work. We have dried her off with a towel and she is now wet again from sweat.
I place a phone call to our back up vet for a consultation. He had text’ed me earlier in the evening to apologize for missing my earlier call. I tell our “on scene” vet that we are facing a life and death decision and I need to make sure that I am clear about what we are doing. The vet does not seem upset by my need to get a second opinion. Our back up vet listens as I review the symptoms, vital signs and treatment plan. He concurs that we are doing everything we can do and the odds are very poor, given Beauty’s age and current condition and response to the treatment. Beauty is 28 years old, which is about 70 in human years. She is a very poor candidate for surgery - which he adds would cost between $8,000 and $ 10,000.
Beauty looks sleepy and worn out and Dan is having trouble getting her to walk. She keeps stopping and putting her head down and wants to roll. We take turns with the walking and offering her water.
As we approach 11:00 p.m., Beauty’s heart rate is picking up. It is now back up to 80, which is almost the equivalent of more than 200 beats per minute in a human. I place another call to Beauty’s owner to update her on our lack of progress.
It is now midnight and Beauty looks tired and uncomfortable. Her heart rate is increasing and there has been no response to the treatment so far to resolve her abdominal pain. The vet cannot give her more pain medication because it may kill her. We insist that she be given something to make her comfortable. We have to sign a form that acknowledges that the additional pain killers may prove lethal, but there is no choice. Around 12:30, the vet gives Beauty an additional shot to ease the pain in her abdomen. Beauty seems to relax and then rolls over on her side. It takes me a few seconds to realize that she has stopped breathing. The vet takes a look and informs me that her heart has stopped. She is gone.
Miss Beauty passed away at 12:41 a.m. on Saturday, January 23rd. Dan and I get a large tarp out of the barn and cover her with it. The two other horses have been with us the entire evening and are standing there, sniffing at the tarp. I place the third and final call to Audrey informing her that Beauty did not pull through. Everyone is physically exhausted and emotionally drained.
The vet completes his paperwork and gives me some drug bottles to replace those that we used this evening. He expresses his sympathy for how this turned out, packs up his gear and leaves to start his hour long drive home. As we head into the house, I find myself wondering what the cost will be for an after hours emergency call out with more than four hours of treatment. I also find myself wondering how we are going to dig a hole big enough to give Miss Beauty the proper burial. Our tractor is broken.
IT’S NOW SATURDAY MORNING and sunlight is streaming in the bedroom windows at 6:55 a.m. and one of our German Shepherds is tapping his paw against the door to signal his readiness for breakfast. This is the way every morning starts on the ranch. After all the animals are fed I start to again ponder the burial options for Miss Beauty. I wait until 9:00 a.m. and place a call to our trusted neighbor Fred. I ask Fred if he can come over with his tractor, telling him I need a dig a large hole. Fred says sure and asks me how my horse is doing, and I just repeat my original statement, telling him I need him to come over and dig me a large hole. “Oh” Fred says, realizing that the two questions are the same. Fred arrives a short time later with his large yellow tractor with assorted digging implements and in just a few minutes has carved a large crater into the earth. Beauty is gently lowered into the hole and covered up. The other two horses are watching us but are staying back a few hundred feet.
By 10:30 a.m. it’s all over and there is a fresh mound of dirt signalling Miss Beauty’s final resting spot. Fred and the yellow tractor are heading out our driveway. As the noise of Fred’s tractor subsides, I hear my cell phone beeping to tell me that I have a missed call and a voice mail message. I play the message back and chuckle. It’s from my other neighbor Pat, “Hey, I was just driving by and saw a big mound of dirt in the front pasture, so I guess things didn’t go so well last night…sorry about that”.