going Solo, my soul mate and I

We walked into the neurologist’s office my husband and I on 28th November 2003. I was 36 years of age. It was a bleak, grey uninteresting day and I can remember being dressed smart… in clothes that would befit a job interview, silly really I know but what else did you wear to things like this? I was very nervous and my palms were warm and sweaty but inside my body felt chilled. The consultant didn’t speak much, he was an older gentleman complete with dicky bow and a crumpled wool suit, bifocals perched on the end of his nose. I liked this man, he reminded me of my old boss, a veterinary surgeon I had worked with since I was 19.

My consultant went through a series of examinations performed on various parts of my anatomy non that hadn’t been done before.  I sat on the raised examination table waiting in anticipation after I had removed my boots, getting more anxious by the second. I stared down hard at my hands, thoughts running through my head.

He felt my feet and said “Stone cold.” With a chuckle he then felt my hands,

“Hot and sweaty” he said with raised eyebrows as if he had uncovered some major scientific discovery. He went on to test my reflexes, my left side jerked respondent to his hammer. He moved round to my right side and struck just below my kneecap and then my elbow… nothing, my limbs just hung like wet rags.

“No reflexes in the right side at all!” he exclaimed with a smile.

“What does that mean?” I asked, puzzled by his smile.

The words tumbled from his mouth as water pored from a jug.

“Your dead!” he answered. I didn’t really understand or appreciate his humour at the time but his job can’t have been easy and I guess that’s how he got through the day.

I wondered after if this was the way he broke the news to all his patients. His smiling face peered over his glasses as he told me the MRI scan showed I had lesions on my brain and spinal cord. He went on to tell me I had Multiple Sclerosis, no real treatment. No cure. I felt numb, I didn’t hear much of what he said after that.

The following months were just a muddle of surviving and trying to get things straight in my head. After doing lots of research I realised I had probably had this coming on from my teens. I began to remember strange occurrences, unidentified numbness, bouts of depression and forgetfulness. I had never had any major illnesses as a child and lived my youth outside in the fresh air with the horses and dogs that were my life. I felt cheated… I was a really physically active person, the wrong person to be saddled with MS, why couldn’t it just be given to people that are happy to sit in front of the TV. I felt myself slipping in and out of a depressed state but the only person that could beat this was me.

I searched MS blog sites… What a disaster, these people were just giving in, accepting MS with open arms, not me I was going to fight it all the way. We went to some ‘newly diagnosed classes,’ they were not for me either. So still the search on how to deal with this went on, there is no right way or wrong way but you have to do what is right for you. I did work out that if I exercised I felt better, keeping my muscles strong really helped. I was lucky my years of exercise had paid off and now I no longer curse my foot ballers legs but embrace them for being strong!

Now you may have come to realise that I am stubborn and won’t be told, I am always right (well I think I am) I’m not saying I don’t have moments of weakness because I have plenty of those. Days when I want to hide away in self pity and can’t face the world! This happens often and I am ashamed of that but I think ‘here I go again’ that is my bodies way of saying stop for a rest sweetie you are all worn out. MS makes you tired…so tired, its hard to explain. By the end of the day, teatime to be exact I am nearly on my knees and some days crawl around the work tops getting the dinner ready but at least now I can hold a knife to chop things which is better than a few years ago.

I buffeted through those first months like a tumble weed being tossed around by a wind of emotions. At that time I was caring for my daughters horse and helping at the stables where he resided. I loved being there, I had some great friends both equine and human and they helped so much to cushion the blow of this terrible disease. Then late in April 2004 I mentioned to a friend that I was thinking of getting another horse but this horse had to be so special to cope with the parts of me that were not working well. It had to have the patients of a saint because some days it would take me five minutes to do up a girth or a throat lash. So she told me the story of an old horse that was being retired and was in need of a home.

We went to see the horse that weekend. He had been turned out into a field with lots of other horses since he’d had a leg injury the previous Boxing Day. This old boy had damaged something, which may or may not come right and he could no longer do the work that paid for his keep but would do light hacking. So there and then I decided he was the one for me, I already felt we shared a kind of kinship and his owner turned his care over to me.

The following week he arrived on the lorry, his wobbly legs unsteady as his hooves hit the concrete car park and his droopy eyes looked around with disinterest. I changed his head collar to one of mine and led him out to a paddock. He swiftly put his head down to eat and I smiled.

“You are going to fit right in here old boy, I am going to make your last years the best.” I whispered to him as I stroked his thick coat.

His name was Solo an apt name for one who preferred his own company, he was a light dun/mink colour, his points were not jet black as is normal with a dun but chocolate/black, his mane and tail were sparse. He had worked hard all his life and as I got to know him I realised just how much this horse had switched off to what was happening around him, he would just close his eyes and shut out the world. I felt at one with him because I that was how I sometimes viewed the world too, when the pain got uncomfortable or my movements were so frustrating and I wanted to rip my hands off or pull my teeth out, I’d just hide behind a smile.

I set about feeding him up, he loved his food but dropped weight badly and if he had a bad night in the morning he looked like a bag of bones. I fed him blood food rich in B vitamins and slowly he gained some weight, his legs were getting steadier and the painkillers he had daily seemed to take the edge off his stiffness.

So we had set about our journey of healing one another. Solo had a stumbling problem I found out on one of our first rides. Probably because his tendons were weak or his legs just didn’t work well or because he carried his head high due to pain in his neck or back or feet or all three. Out on that ride he misjudged a road hump and fell onto his knees, the fall threw me forward onto his neck. I was devastated as I saw the large patch of scuffed away hair on his knees and the white chicken skin of the exposed surface below. I tried to jump off but before I got chance he had struggled to his feet, closed his eyes for a second or two, gave a little shudder walked over to a patch of grass put down his head and began to eat.

We began our walk home, it was quite away and it was hot (the worse weather for my MS) as we walked along little beads of blood started to ooze from the bare skin on Solo’s knees. I remember thinking his circulation must be real bad because it had taken ages for the blood to get through and I wondered if it would be a sufficient amount to cleanse any grit from the wound, I worried that some would work its way in and get into his knee caps.

We were out with my daughter Lucy who was around 15 at the time and her big black cob Joe. Lucy had already started on a journey with Joe a year or so earlier, he was so insecure in himself and had obviously been through some kind of horse hell of his own then Lucy got a free DVD in one of her horse magazines, it was about some incredible natural horsemanship which made so much sense, work in partnership with your horse. I had been around horses since I was 9 but had never really looked at the psychological side of things, now our view of horsemanship was about to change. Lucy and Joe learnt together and played together, he was stripped of all restraint and worked in and was handled in a rope halter. Joe and Lucy went from being unconfident to working as a team. I thought as I looked at my old boy, I would love to be at that stage with you.

Solo’s knees healed really well but I did invest in a pair of leather knee boots and never took him out without them on again! Solo had no brakes so to speak, his mouth had become so hard from the years of people pulling on him, he would just grit his teeth stick his nose out and go! He was only happy if he was in front of the other horses we rode out with, which was a problem for a horse his age. I was sure one day he would have a heart attack mid-flight and we would end up in a heap on the floor. I also had the added problem with my hands, they were affected by the MS and sometimes I would be riding along and not realise I was no longer holding my reins, I kept them knotted so when this happened they wouldn’t get caught under his legs! But I did feel I needed more ‘at one’ with my equine companion.

Opening the packet of equipment my daughter had brought me for my birthday, I thought its now or never! Solo was his usual disinterested self as we fitted the halter and Lucy gave me a lesson on how to tie the 12 foot line through the halter to make reins but before I was even aloud up onto his back I had to get savvy with him.

So armed with my horse in his halter, a 12 foot line and a tool, wand or carrot stick which ever you want to call it we move to the centre of the school. Lucy was working Joe out to the side of the school, Joe and Lucy moved with such grace it took your breath away, Joe watched for Lucy’s hidden signals and Lucy watched for Joe’s.  People came from all over to see Lucy and Joe work together, the reputation of this fabulous horse was growing.  I started to learn the games with Solo. He was so different to Joe and I had to apply a lot more pressure with Solo at the beginning, this was something I found hard to do. I also had to remember to lift my energy or bring it down! To help Solo with the bending games I found having treats stuffed in my pocket helped, he would bend almost double for a bit of carrot.  So as the weeks went by Solo was becoming more responsive, more flexible and more interested. I felt confident to get on my haltered horse.

Solo learnt about how to deal with things. When he came from his old owner she had said he didn’t tie up and he didn’t! I tried once he just panicked, pulled back on the rope and sat down nearly strangling himself in the process. He spent his time wandering round the yard, a good plan on his part I thought but with some retraining from Lucy about pressure and yielding, he now tied up perfectly. Which was a godsend as he used to disappear and I’d end up having to fetch him back every time I wanted to do something with him.

Sitting astride him with just a halter and one string looping from the loop underneath his chin I began my first natural ride. No bit in his mouth, no reins to steady myself this was truly a test of balance and trust. Lucy gave us a lesson and we followed behind her and Joe. At first I just kept my legs and body still but after a few minuets I was throwing the string over Solo’s head so it was on the other side of his neck and we could change direction. Lucy taught me how to use my body to turn, stop and back him up. This was so much easier for me than the conventional riding I had been doing for years. Nothing was forced and Solo responded really well, I could stop him just by squeezing my buttocks and slow him by squeezing on one rope, asking one of his fore legs to slow down so all the other legs followed. Genius!!

Lucy had been away on a camp course with Joe to study bare hoof management, Joe was so distressed at having mental shoes put on his hooves, bare foot was the way to go. He had soft hooves on spongy soles so Lucy had a lot of hard work getting then back to form but without shoes on his feet, he improved and slowly she was soon riding him miles bare foot, the tarmac roads helping to repair his hooves.

So the next step for Solo and I was to go bare foot as well, I was so impressed with the change in Joe I was hoping it was the way to go with Solo… just another feather in the cap of making his life better. I took the plunge and had his shoes removed. I was amazed at the change, his head no longer stuck up in the air star gazing, his out line was long and low which meant I could now start work on building the muscles in his back along his spine which over the years had disappeared. He was a changed horse and a changed ride. So bit less and bare foot we pottered around the countryside looking in people’s gardens and generally having a good time together.

As the years went by and our relationship grew I couldn’t stand a day with seeing Solo. He would run over the fields when I called him and wicker when he heard me coming to his stable. I would bury my face in his old tatty hair and breath in the smell of horse but I could see he was getting tired, something in his eyes told me he was getting ready to sleep for a long time.

December 2007 he stopped wanting the other horses near him, he was irritable and bad tempered, although still eating his hard feed he was dropping weight daily. As I stood with him in his stable, his eyes closed, his head nodding, as he seemed to drop in and out of sleep I thought it was near his time. Going home with a deep sadness settling in my stomach I new I would soon have to make the decision to help him on his way to eternal slumber. I spent as much time as I could with him over the next few weeks. Then on a frosty day mid January 2008, I gave Solo his last feed with the carrots and apples he loved. The knacker lorry rattled up the drive and the man got out, he came over to stroke Solo. “He’s more than ready love… a real old fellow.” He said to me as my eyes welled up with tears.

We led Solo down to where the driver had parked the lorry, he picked at the grass as I said my last goodbye. I handed the lead rope over to the man and walked away. I heard one shot and Solo was no more.

I felt gratitude that I got to share part of my life with him and make his last years comfortable and happy, he was truly remarkable and he taught me so much about life. He was wiser than any person I know and I would love to have met him sooner somewhere in his 30 years of life.