Tinkerbell…a most “patient” horse. Next few days are critical!

Tinkerbell says "Good Morning!"

Tinkerbell is a terrific patient…but she is also a horse, and what do you know?

The best horse patient will still manage to screw something up.

Tink with Daniel and Amy

The  vet couldn’t make it here last night. He had two more emergency calls after I finished last night’s tearful post. He said he would get here at noon today. This is not the same vet who saw her last. We’ve had two vets on this girl’s case (our two favorite vets), depending upon which of them was available at various times. This is, I guess, Vet #2.

We brought Tink from the barn. She wasn’t eager to start moving, but once outside the barn, she walked fairly decently to the house. We tied her up at the back porch to wait for the vet. Just inside the door, our dining room table has been turned into a hospital supply closet, piled high with my vet boxes and gauze and ointments and Vetricyn and syringes and bandages…

Before we took off the bandage, I brought her the rest of the Senior/COB/alfalfa mixture laced with citrus bute powder that she had failed to finish at breakfast (Remember, her stall is made of hay bales, so she wasn’t very hungry this morning). Then we led her out into the open sun for the Bandage Removal Ceremony.

Fortunately, Amy came along. I let her hold Tink and pet her head while, with great trepidation, I watched Daniel slowly undo the gauze, vet wrap and leg wrap.

I was prepared for the stench of rotting flesh and the horrible sight of her foot falling off. Well, no, I wasn’t, and I really WAS trying not to think like a Negative Nellie (sorry, all you Positive Nellies out there!).

No black ichor this time. There was an odor, but there was all that yellowish gunk that drained overnight. The skin had receded (sloughed) more. Daniel cut what I thought were rather large pieces of skin off with my daughter’s purple-handled school scissors (don’t ask me where the bandage scissors are). They were pink, bleeding pieces, but Tink had no feeling in them. She stood still, with her ears back in “concerned” mode, while Amy stroked and soothed her. Occasionally she tugged the leg away from Daniel. He sprayed Vetericyn and this calendua solution all over the leg, which I forced myself to confront the sight of.

Pale pink granulation tissue everywhere. The exposed bone was even pinkish. I thought, It looks just like it should, for what it is. But boy, a lot of skin was gone. (Click on this picture if you want to see it, don’t if you’re squeamish like me!)

Granulation tissue exposed where skin has sloughed off.

We put a light dressing over the leg to keep it clean and moist until noon, when the vet would arrive, and tied her to the porch again. Amy wished us well and said goodbye to Tink and left for work. I got Tink more hay and water and set her all up. And we waited.

Some time after noon, Daniel called the vet clinic. The vet was supposedly on his way. Then we got a call back, saying the vet had a meeting back at the clinic and didn’t realize the time, and would be out to our place at 2:20 p.m. We were bummed, but it wasn’t like we could mind. Tink seemed content to doze in the sun, which is the same activity her north pasture cronies were engaged in not far away. Daniel left to pick up our daughter, who had called home sick, from school.

A volunteer, Jessica, came over, and out at the corrals we praised the awesome weather and planned the various tasks we would begin. Then we heard a crash from the direction of the house. Great, I said. She’s knocked over the barbecue grill. I knew it was too close!

I jogged over to see. Nothing was knocked over or even out of place. Tink was standing right where I’d left her, completely calm, EXCEPT…

Blood was GUSHING out from beneath the loose bandage like someone had turned on a faucet. I grabbed a towel and held pressure while undoing the tape that held on the bandage so I could identify the source of the bleeding. Blood appeared to be welling out of the sloughing skin behind the exposed bone, but the main source of the bleeding was on the back of her leg. All of this was below the wire cut. Even as I hollered for Jessica, I marveled at all this freakin’ blood in the foot, so red, so circulatory, so awesome. I looked around for the injury culprit as the towel got soaked. Nothing, anywhere around, had any blood on it. There was no sign of her having kicked or crashed into ANYTHING. When Jessica got to us, I let her hold the towel while I ran for another one of those army bandages. With a little difficulty, we positioned Tink so that we could bandage her safely. Jessica was an EMT, and she expertly bound up the pressure dressing. The bleeding stopped.

Why, Tink? I had to ask. It’s trying to heal! What the heck did you do? Did you just tear apart the one vein keeping your foot alive? She just stood there looking innocent and sleepy.

After a time, we removed the pressure bandage. Jessica gently peeled it away from the granulation tissue. Then we put another ointment-slathered light dressing on. Daniel returned with Erin, and moved the barbecue grill, just for giggles I guess. At last, the vet came.

He liked all the granulation tissue and blood and everything too. He said that granulation tissue bleeds a LOT. He said that we can’t tell yet if all is lost. It depends on how far down the skin continues to slough. If it stops at the fetlock, then she will probably be OK. If it continues down to the coronet band and the hoof capsule, then that is the end. Complicating things even more is the fact that the skin has been severed all the way around the leg. He said if there was even a thin ribbon of skin connecting above and below the wound, then the skin could grow back. But there isn’t, and it is very unlikely the skin will be able to grow back around the leg. She could possibly have this raw, skinless leg. I was like, no, isn’t there something that could be done about that? And he mentioned the possibility of skin grafts. But that’s jumping ahead. He said things will be very dynamic over the next few days to a week. Now that he’s seen the change, we can keep in touch over the phone. If things go right, she could heal and be fine. That’s massively optimistic.

Though he spoke very optimistically, he also stressed the importance of keeping her comfortable and not worrying about OD’ing her on bute. Which sounds rather pessimistic, to me. Fortunately, the calendula (supplied by the friends that were here yesterday) provides relief from pain, and combined with a safe amount of bute I think we can keep her reasonably comfortable. I think she will let us know if she gets to be too miserable. She is a very expressive creature.

After the vet left, we put on the bandage that she would wear for the rest of the day and night. For the first time, while Daniel wrapped the bandage on the injured leg, she stood on it with her full weight, kicking and kicking and kicking with her good leg, which Jessica, from a safe position, kept hold of and “steered” away from Daniel.

Tonight she’s staying in a small pen we threw together with some panels right next to the north pasture fence so she can hang with her buddies. They are standing in a clump, near her. We’ll pray tonight for tomorrow’s changes to be more healing changes!

Tink at the back porch

Please keep Tink in your prayers! The next few days will be critical!