Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Horse Tails

Oh, the Regret

To some, a broken hand, would be a race to the hospital.  With me, not so much.  After all, I had things to do.  I wasn’t about to ruin a Saturday night, especially as, the kids were looking forward to their snacks and movie.  I finished up the chores, settled the frazzled gelding, into a new pen and was done for the day.

Breaking my hand was, quite the nuisance.  I certainly didn’t want to spend my Saturday evening, sitting in a hospital waiting room, for hours upon hours.  Nope, the second I realized, I’d broken my hand, the decision had already been made.  I would enjoy the evening with the kids, as planned.  Then I would drive myself to the hospital the next morning.  To my way of thinking, Sunday morning, when it’s likely far quieter, is a better time to go to a hospital.  All the weekend nonsense would’ve happened on Friday and Saturday.  Sunday morning there’d surely be a lull, until people headed home for the weekend. Yup, Sunday morning would be perfect.

I reached the house, just as they were getting on coats to come and check on me. Apparently, I was taking far longer than usual. What took me so long? Well, nothing much, just broke my hand, that’s all.

Well, when it was realized that I wasn’t joking, the initial reaction was to drive me to the hospital.  An idea, I immediately squashed.  After all, it was only a broken hand.  There weren’t any protruding bones, or anything of the kind. All I had was, a bit of an extra bump. Just as if, I had an extra knuckle. No big deal.  It could certainly wait, until morning.

So, I got a spatula out of the kitchen drawer, bandaged my hand to it like a splint and decided it would do just fine. You know what? I was right.  We all enjoyed the evening. I had my hand elevated higher than my heart, to keep swelling down, and a couple of ice packs made it quite manageable. All in all, deciding to wait until the next day, was a very good idea indeed. When our most excellent evening of movies and snacks ended, the kids went home with their friends. This was great, as I didn’t have to worry about them, first thing the next day.

I woke in the morning and called in to see, if there was a doctor on call. Or even better, if one was already there.  The smaller hospitals don’t have doctors at the hospital, evenings and weekends.  They get called in, as needed.  Well, lucky me. the doctor was there. I had a lovely, long, hot bath, dressed then drove myself to the hospital.

Upon arrival, I checked in at the nurse’s station, explained my situation, then sat down to wait. I was right about one thing. Sunday morning was the perfect time to go to the hospital. There wasn’t anyone there, but me. Unfortunately, I suppose, I appeared a bit too casual and relaxed.  As I was left sitting, for a considerable amount of time. While I waited there, I had a good deal of time, to reflect on what I had done. It’s funny because, though I remembered throwing the punch and aiming for the soft nose. I also clearly remembered, the very moment, the horse turned its head away. The eye saw and recognized, what was about to happen.  Yet the message didn’t get back to the brain, to tell it to stop the forward momentum. It’s so strange how that happens, and the instantaneous regret one experiences.  Oh, the regret. There have been many times, I’ve seen what’s going to happen.  Yet as the action was already in motion, it’s as if, it can’t be recalled. Life, is definitely not, like in the movies. Life is full of regret. That’s just the way, it is.

Eventually, the doctor came rushing down the hall to me, scolding the nurses for leaving me sitting. Apologizing for the wait. I had x-rays, learned that I had a boxer’s break.  Was casted and sent on my way.

I had a good story to tell hubby when he got home from his weekend.  I had a young stallion that would most certainly, be gelded and the weekend hadn’t been ruined for the kids. All in all, it had worked out well. The only thing I now had a problem with, was waiting to geld the stallion. Because of my hand, I had to put it off a while. Sometime, one must do, what one must do. As soon as possible, Mordecai would be gelded, and that would be the end of that.

Leave a Reply

About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
All rights reserved. No part of this website or book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means – graphic, electronic or mechanical – without the prior written permission of the author.


 Oakbank, MB