The Pursuit, the Pause – and a Golden Future, Part II
Click here for Part I in this three-part series.
PART II – THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED
It was July 1st, 2023.
That morning I had ran Pistol at a barrel race in Taylor, Texas. The pro rodeo was going on over the Fourth of July weekend in nearby Belton, Tx. As much as I love rodeoing, Pistol was no longer a fit for that competitive environment so Craig and I took in the pro rodeo Friday night as spectators.
On the way home, I received a late-night text from the gal who did the interval timing at the race that morning. Pistol would have clocked at the top of the 3D that day, and she let me know stats showed he had the fastest second and third barrel in all divisions (with over 400 entries)! Crazy, right!? I was thrilled and over the moon with that news.
As Craig drove down the dark highway on that warm July night, I was just smiling and marinating in so much gratitude and pure joy to have my best boy back. I put my phone down, took a deep breath and soaked in the sense of deep peace, thankfulness and optimism.
As our car came to a rest, the burnt rubber and gun powder smell was overwhelming. I quickly tried to get my bearings, made sure my limbs could function and found my phone. I climbed out of the car and gasped with emotion in the darkness as I made my way through the ditch and saw the undercarriage of another vehicle sitting on its side, with two lifeless bodies under/near it. I feared the worst and called 911.
The driver was unconscious and pinned under the vehicle with a severe head injury. The passenger was coherent but had a severe arm injury and was unable to sit up. In that moment, I did what seemed like the obvious right thing to do – I knelt by the passenger’s side, held her (good) hand and continuously and audibly prayed with and for her and the driver and spoke life over the entire situation.
The driver didn’t initially have vitals. It took some grand gestures on the medical team’s part to bring him back to life and stabilized for a helicopter ride. The driver and passenger were each life flighted individually to a local hospital. It was uncertain whether they would survive or need amputation.
Craig and I stood in the dark pasture that night, surrounded by flashing lights taking it all in. Intense heat was already radiating up my spine. Our vehicle missed hitting an electric pole by 15 feet, which would have likely been fatal. Our car was totaled but we were standing, and incredible lucky to be alive.
Between the darkness and adrenaline, I didn’t realize until we got home after midnight that my hips were bleeding. The following weeks were incredibly stiff and sore. We sought medical attention ASAP to rule out fractures and took it easy. I was hopeful that with some time, the pain I was experiencing would all go away. But it didn’t. Ultimately MRIs confirmed multiple herniated discs in my thoracic and cervical spine.
An intense love for horses and desire to enjoy them as long as possible has meant I’ve always valued and taken good care of my body. I’ve been pretty safety conscious with no history of major injuries or horrific wrecks. I’ve been intentional and also fortunate to have complete health and physical freedom to enjoy my active, athletic and hardworking lifestyle to the fullest and without limitations. I knew my biggest horse goals were still ahead of me, but now my spine was damaged – not just in one, but several areas.
In understanding the seriousness of my injuries, I stopped riding & competing and focused on healing. In the first six months after the wreck I had over 30 appointments with various medical professionals. The initial months included all kinds of therapies, seeing specialists, numerous spinal injections, and surgery consults, etc. There was pain that flared up and stayed flared up for months. Always one to trust God and think positive, I understandably still had very low, depressing moments filled with fear, worry, tears and uncertainty for my future.
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Over time, trial and error – I learned what activities I could no longer do, and which I had to modify. The list is long. My primary triggers are compression and concussion. I can no longer lift a roping saddle, trim more than two feet at a time or one horse per day, pull weeds, shovel sand around our arena, carry a standard weed eater or full 3 gallon pump sprayer. I can’t lift a hay bale, feed bag, or water bucket – making it impossible now to travel with horses independently. I can’t do exercises that require standing with heavy weight – such as bicep curls, overhead presses and many weighted lower body exercises. I can’t perform speed workouts I did in the past or further my dog’s agility training (or enjoy shuffle dancing!), since the concussion of running and jumping flares up my pain. With my spine already compromised, it’s now too risky to start colts, or take on troubled horses. Once my pain IS flared up, the list of limitations and modifications grows substantially – to the point of a heel strike when simply walking being painful.
I intimately learned my boundaries and also learned how to decompress my spine at home to create some relief. Not wanting to take a more invasive route to managing my pain if possible, I decided for the time being to modify my lifestyle as long as I can vs. go forward with surgeries, which in the thoracic and cervical areas especially, carry significant risk.
The uncertainty, frustration, discouragement and resentment was so overwhelming at times – I knew I HAD to try to find some kind of silver lining. I’ve always believed in the quote by Napoleon Hill –
“Every adversity, every failure, and every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.”
So where was the blessing in all this?
Eventually I started riding again. We finished our arena and bought a handful of roping steers. I always had a vision for Craig and I to be one of those cute older couples entered together at the World Series Team Ropings. While I did check off a very small, starter team roping goal – I realized my thoracic disc herniations would never allow me to practice enough to be a competitive roper. We now had the horse property of our dreams with a beautiful roping arena – and my team roping career was completely over even before it began. The new heartbreaking limitations on my life haunted me daily.
I decided that I had to embrace and focus in on what I COULD still do – I COULD ride a couple reasonably smooth and safe horses per day (and I could do push-ups and bent over rows), and I did eventually start barrel racing again on my most trusted, old reliable equine friend – Pistol.
It’s hard to believe at times that every setback actually carries the seed of something greater, but I was about to find out — and that seed had a golden coat.
Click here for Part III where I shared exactly what that looked like.
In the mean time, enjoy reading:
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