It is not a toomah

Which is a good thing.  A very good thing.

On Saturday of last weekend a few hours before my shift ended I got clobbered with a piercing headache.  Par for the course with me.  I have a headache on a daily basis.  Seriously.  Daily.   My plan was to go home, walk the dog, then lay low for the evening.  Well, it turns out my bff's wedding venue burned to the ground so spent the night dealing with her and her meltdown of epic proportions.  All the while doing so with a wicked headache.  Fun times right there.

The headache carried through Sunday, but not quite as badly as it was on Saturday.  It hurt, it sucked, but I dealt, as I always do.  And then came Monday.

As soon as my eyes opened 7:00 Monday morning I knew this wasn't a normal (for me) headache.  It hurt.  I've had migraines many times before, they're not fun. And to wake up with that kind of pain sucks big hairy monkey balls.   I went through my usual headache routine: get up, half a cup of coffee (sometimes the caffeine will settle the headache, but too much will make it worse), have a glass of water, pop a couple pills then hit the couch with an ice pack).  After doing this usually within a couple of hours I feel better.

Not this time.

It got worse.  Exponentially worse.  It rapidly progressed to me being nauseous, dizzy, blurry vision, I can't move, laying down hurts but standing hurts more.  I spent much of the day in the basement on the couch (where it was darker and cooler) in tears it hurt so bad.  I have never in my life experienced such physical pain.  By 9:00 that morning I was doubled over in pain.

I immediately realized I wasn't going to be able to make it through work.  I still had 7hrs until my shift started but there was just no way I was going to be able to do it.  Thankfully the supervisor was willing to take my shift for me.  I now no longer had to worry about that.

I spent the day on the couch with ice on my head and back of my neck, literally writhing in pain.  By the time 7pm rolled around I had been in searing pain for 12hours, and just couldn't do it anymore.  I called my mother to see what I should do and she, without hesitation (she's a nurse) said to go to the ER.  I waited until my roommate got home and thankfully she came along with me.

The cab ride to the ER was tough.  The lights and the motion of being in the car did not help at all.  I got to the ER and was greeted by a waiting room pretty full of people.  The triage nurse gets my details and registers me.  We go to sit and brace ourselves for a looooong wait.  Our butts are in the seats not 30secs when I'm called in.  I could feel the stares of those still waiting piercing me in the back.  I even questioned the nurse as to why I got in so quickly ahead of everyone else.  He explained that with persistent head pain like that they tend to take it seriously.  (it is important to note Mr. Nurse was not...and will now be referred to as Nurse McHotpants)

McHotpants gets more details from me, draws blood and gets me set up with an IV in case the Dr gives me meds later.  IV = no fun.  I forgot how much they can hurt...probably because the last time I had one I was 9.  I'm still bruised from the damn thing.

The doctor came to evaluate me after a short wait.  We did some tests and discovered I have a slightly lazy right eye.  The far right of  my peripheral vision is blurred.  When I was following his finger by the time he got to the far right I was seeing 2 or 3 of his finger.  This is a new development and something he advised I keep an eye on (no pun intended) as it was hard to tell if it was related to the headache I was having or something else.

At this point I'm still thinking there are probably other people out there who want to see a doctor too, and here I am with a headache taking up time. However, that through process quickly changed when the doctor said these words: "I am mildly concerned this could possibly be a brain bleed."

Um, wha?

A CT scan was ordered, and I was now nervous.  I had, in the matter of seconds, gone from just wanting something to make the pain stop for a few hours, to something potentially more serious.  I gave my roommate my mother's contact info just in case it was needed.   After about an hour wait I was taken down for the CT scan.  The nurse transporting me = creepy.

Once the scan was done and I was back in my room it was a matter of waiting for the results to come back.  So roommate and I people watched.  We saw a chick in an orange jumpsuit in cuffs come in.  A drunk old guy was brought in for the second time within a week claiming to have been mugged for the 3rd time in 3 days.  Another guy came in and spent his entire time (all of 30mins) moaning and groaning apparently in life-ending pain.  He was given drugs to take but couldn't take them immediately as he had to drive himself home.  The doctor even questioned him:  um...you're in THAT much pain but you drove yourself here?  Yeah. Another old guy came in, a diabetic, because he just wanted to get some sleep.  And we watched McHotpants and these two hot doctors roam about.  Even  my doctor was attractive for an older gentleman.

Eventually the results came back and were thankfully clear.  This just in: my brain is normal!  I now have proof of such!

I was then, finally, given some meds as I was not only still in pain but now exhausted as it was, at this point, 11:30 at night.  I'm given a bag of a drug I do not recall the name of, and some fluids.   I was warned this particular med can cause "weebie jeebies".  When I asked what that meant all he said was "you'll know it if it happens and if it happens you let me know, I have something that can make it stop".  Though I did get light headed for a few minutes thankfully I didn't get the weebie jeebies.

Finally around 1am the pain was subsiding and I was discharged. 

By the time I got home I was starving as I hadn't eaten all day, and really hadn't had the desire to.  Roommate and I made bacon, eggs and toast and were in bed by 2am.

I talked to mom the next morning as she wanted to know how I made out.  I told her all went as well as it could.  When I asked her about the meds they gave me she told me it was a muscle relaxant and an anti-nauseant.

The next three days, however, I spent feeling like my head was in the clouds.  I'm not sure if it was the meds or what it was but i was definitely woozie. 

And today I am headachey again.  Fml.  Its not as bad as Monday (thankfully) but is more than an everyday headache.  This week has sucked.  I'm exhasuted after Monday's ordeal.  I haven't slept well, I'm not feeling well, its just been a long week.  I am off work for 3 days next week and am heading home to my parents so will hopefully be able to zone out and just veg for a few days.  I also plan to see my doctor while I'm home to see if I can get a Rx to hopefully prevent any future visits to the ER.  Nice as they were, I can think of better ways to spend an evening.

It's not a Toomah!

Hickstead

Hickstead: a bay, dutch warmblood stallion, ridden by Canadian Eric Lamaze.   Sadly, Hickstead died suddenly in competition Sunday in Italy.   He and Eric finished their round, and the mighty Hickstead collapsed.  Veterinarians tried to revive him but sadly to no avail.  The other competitors asked to have the competition stopped.  They filed into the arena for a moment of silence in honor of a horse like no other.

I've had people ask me why I'm upset over the death of a horse.  A horse I never personally knew.

You see horse people are slightly neurotic.  Our horses are more than just horses.  They're our best friends.  Our partners.  They are often our one constant in an ever changing world.  Human friends come and go, but our equine friends are always there.  They're there when we laugh, they're there when we cry.  They see us through the good, the bad and everything in between.  They make the grey days seem brighter.  They know when you just need a hug, and they know when you just need a smile.  It doesn't matter how bad your day was, when your horse nickers at you when you enter the barn suddenly all your worries of the day dissolve.  In short, we love our horses truly and deeply.  And this isn't only true of our own personal horses.  We are fanatical about all horses:  yours and mine.  And those we will never actually ever lay eyes on.  We fall in love with them through our TV screens and computer screens.  We ride rounds with them from our couches.  We triumph when they triumph, and our hearts sink, when they don't.

Yes, the horse world is notoriously fickle.  Its catty and petty.  But, we look out for our own.  We are horse people.  We are an special breed.  When one of ours is down we rally to lift them back up.

Hickstead was, by grand prix standards, a small horse. To put it into some perspective he was the size of the horse I rode, and smaller than my coach's horse who I also rode.  It was said he would never make it to that level of competition.  I suppose you could say he was considered the underdog.  Well, he proved them wrong.  Then he kept proving them wrong.   He quickly proved his weight in gold.

He and Eric won individual gold at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, and helped Team Canada win team silver at the same games.  This was the first individual gold won by a Canadian.   He took first place at the World Equestrian Games in 2010 and earned the title of Best Horse in the World.

Just this year he and Eric won the $1million CN International for the second time in their career.  He certainly deserved his title of Best Horse in the World.

He trusted Eric and Eric trusted him.  It was a horse-rider relationship many of us only dream of having.  Though he was a small animal Eric trusted him enough to simply allow him to attack his courses.  Eric knew he was riding a horse of greatness.  He was often seen at the end of rounds pointing down to his great horse as if to say "its all him".  

On the weekend the horse world lost a great athlete, and our collective hearts broke.   He was the best horse in the world, Eric the best rider.  Hickstead was an amazing horse.  With Eric in the tack the pair were unstoppable.  Untouchable.   The sport of showjumping will not be the same without the mighty Hickstead to grace the ring.

I cannot even begin to fathom the heartbreak Eric is feeling.  He lost his best friend and his partner. There is a video floating around, one I will not share, of Hicksteads final moments.  It is gut wrenching to watch.  I can't even begin to imagine how Eric must of felt standing there watching his beloved friend die in front of him. 

Final photo of him in action

Amazingly Eric went on to ride, just 2 days later, at the Royal Winter Fair in Toronto on another horse.  Upon entering the ring the crowd was on their feet.  An ovation like no other I've heard.  It was truly moving.  Canada's heart broke that day at the loss of a great athlete.  This was their way of letting Eric know he will not be heart broken alone.

I don't expect many to understand.  And its Ok if you don't.  I don't really know what to liken this loss to to make it easier for you to understand.  All I can tell you is our sport lost an amazing athlete, and Canada's best rider lost his best friend, and for that we all grieve.

Stand Up for the Champions:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPNwWwUnJ48&feature=fvst&noredirect=1

Rest peacefully, Hickstead.