Get Back! Part the First

all's well that's thelwell

It all started about two months ago…

well, no.

It all started when I was seventeen, which was a great deal longer than two months ago though not as far as some people may think, and they’ve got another think coming, I’m telling them right now. So, that.

When I was seventeen, you see, I fell off a horse and broke my back. It was a jump, bigger than any I’d attempted, and moreover it was a jump right across the middle of a gravel road, so you KNOW the landing, it was not soft. Not only was the landing naturally un-soft, but on the way down (you do have time to think of these things, you’d be surprised) on the way down I decided to play the hero and hang on to the reins, as we were several miles from the barn out on the public (if back) roads of Ontariariario.

Which was stupid of me. When in doubt, do not play the hero.

So, I did land holding the reins, and feeling very, very proud of myself. From about ten feet up.

Sitting straight up.

So, I did hang on to the horse, which had been my goal, but I only hung on to her about three-quarters of a second, which was as long as it took for me to register that I had just broken my back.

to be continued… UPDATE: continued here.

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18 thoughts on “Get Back! Part the First

  1. I am nauseous thinking about it. That is so horrible. I can’t wait to read what happened.

    I always wondered about the way down from a fall and the ensuing thoughts.

    [shuddering]

  2. I care too! I can’t imagine breaking my back and at such a young age…with any serious injury it seems that you are never quite the same again :( …I await your next installment too…..

  3. I just realized that the implication is that the fat-arsed QuarterHorse cross could clear ten feet. This must not be allowed to stand. The fence was four feet even, the horse was just really fat, resulting in my ten-foot fall: four feet of fence, one of clearance (for she was not into foot taps) and five of horseness.

  4. I care! I can relate, because my BFF broke her collarbone in a similar way: at a schooling show, going over a jump, came off, hanging around her mount’s neck, and the mare ran straight into the wall of the arena. Beth took the brunt of the impact and for one horrible (albeit amusing in retrospect) moment she was stuck to the wall like Wile E. Coyote. We were way the fck out on the other side of Sudbury in the depths of winter; took at least 45 minutes for the ambulance to get there.

    I was there with her mum, her barn owner, and the BO’s horrible kid, who was about ten. Thank gawd BFF’s mum was there because I would totally have forgotten to tell them about her medical history, meds, etc. After my BFF got taken away in the ambo, I collected her saddle and girth (she’d brought her own for some reason, I forget why now) and we started home (to North Bay) with BO and kid. (Mum went to hospital with injured daughter) Kid’s main concern was that at the beginning of our grand day out, mom had promised him Macdonald’s and by God we had to go to Macdonald’s before driving home and finding out if my best friend was, y’know, DEAD or CRIPPLED or not. I still hate that kid.

  5. I hope you peed on his fries and told him it was vinegar.

    Also: not to be melodramatic, but collarbone? BAH! I cracked two vertebrae in my lower back and had permanent nerve damage! I could only walk up stairs sideways for a solid six months, which was was unfortunate as the school told me that they’d fine me every time I was late for class, and one class was on the first floor and the next was on the third, with five minutes to get from one to the other. When my mother faced them with “do I need to get lawyers for my crippled daughter and force you to install elevators” they decided to cut me some slack, the latest in a long series of the figures of authority crumbling in the face of my mother’s fury.

  6. Yes, yes, and I’m just getting over the Hamthrax (yes, I got diagnosed with swine flu). Be patient, you’ve waited thirty years to hear it so far, haven’t you?

  7. Pingback: Get Back: part, the second « raincoaster

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