Life has come to a bit of a grinding halt for me in the last two weeks. Why? Oh well, you know, I decided to fall of a horse and break my right wrist and damage a couple of ribs. As you do.
On one hand I’m glad it happened because horse riding always comes with the promise of falling off – it’s gonna happen sometime, it’s almost unavoidable – so it’s nice to get it out of the way. But on the other hand, I’d rather just have fallen off and scraped my elbow like my riding partner did, rather than breaking things. My instructor freaked out way more than I did, and she’s still super worried about me. I meanwhile responded to the situation by laughing like I normally do and denying the severity of anything. Drove the 40km back home one handed. My mother took one look at me and insisted on taking me to the hospital. FUN TIMES.
Anyway, I’ve been a bit frustrated because I’m in the habit of riding every Sunday and I’m basically barred from physical activity until everything heals…so another 4 weeks from now. Uuuuuuuuugh. It’s going to be so tough getting back into it, and my wrist is going to be so weak and useless. And yes, I will be getting back into it, it’s not the horse’s fault I fell off.
My favourite part of the whole saga is that as I was getting back up, the horse came up to me and nudged my shoulder, like she was checking if I was alright…or maybe asking what the hell I was doing down there. I thought that was just so sweet and lovely. That’s why I like riding, horses are great. Even though they’re huge. Lily, the horse that I usually ride and that I decided to topple from, is 15 hands high. Pretty average for an adult horse, but feels pretty damn high when I factor in my height as well. She is gorgeous though, Arabian grey, and by far the most responsive horse I’ve ever ridden. A twitch of the reins and she changes direction, and she has such a smooth canter. So smooth that I didn’t notice her turning, lost my stirrup and proceeded to spectacularly hit the ground. Like I said, can’t blame the horse.
Completely winded me. I thought I’d never be able to breathe properly again. I have so much more sympathy for rugby players now. Everyone kept asking me about my wrist but I literally could not have given a damn about it. As far as I was concerned, it was fine, the ribs were the real problem. Turns out ribs hurt a lot. And you can’t do anything for them or stop using them, so they hurt constantly. It’s only now, two weeks later, stopped hurting to breathe (not so much coughing or laughing, still no go on those) which means I am now noticing that my wrist actually hurts a fair bit. Yay, broken bones!
So, my life recently has consisted mostly of sitting around being unable to do anything and feeling sorry for myself, or being really super tired and taking lots of codeine assisted naps. It’s desperately frustrating cause a) I don’t have the energy to do anything, and b) don’t actually have the physical capability to do anything. Things like driving – parents have to drop me to work, eating – mum has to cut up my food for me, and even getting dressed is proving to be a right pain. Literally and figuratively. Patience has never been my strong point, so it’s a struggle.
But! I suppose it’s an excuse to take lots of naps…and in winter any excuse will do.