So when I got a symptom or two or three . . . well, to say that it was scary would be a huge understatement. I went to the doctor so that she could set up an appointment to have a colonoscopy done. When I described the symptoms and asked, " . . . so, if it is colon cancer and these are my first symptoms, then it's probably pretty far along, right?" She replied by mentioning chemo and radiation, to which I responded . . . "well, that ain't gonna happen."
The appointment was set up and to my surprise, even with the scary symptoms, I couldn't get in for three weeks. And even at that, I had to accept an out-of-network doctor, because to get an in-network doctor, I would have had to wait several months!
I was okay with living or dying, but the not knowing was killing me. While I'm waiting the three weeks for the appointment, I was standing in the kitchen making a salad: organic lettuce, cabbage, radishes, celery, cucumber, and carrots. At the same time, my computer was blaring away with songs from Pandora, the internet radio station. The station that I had chosen was: Big Iron Radio . . . all old-time cowboy songs. It's an awesome station, and I really love it. So on this particular day, I was listening, and the first few words of the song were something like . . . "I didn't know that in four months I'd be dead." So at that moment, I knew exactly when I was going to die. Four months. I would take the test, and it would turn out "bad" and that would be that. It actually gave me a certain amount of peace. Okay, four months, I can deal with that.
Let me interject here that I don't remember the words of the song exactly, and I don't remember any of the other words of the song, and I've searched high and low and can't find the song. And I've never heard it again since.
But back to my last four months. I began thinking about what I wanted to do with those last precious four months.
I have to interrupt again here. It may seem unrelated, but you'll understand soon. The latter part of last year, I began riding a little horse named Pearl. I may have mentioned her here a time or two. She came to the ranch just prior to when I moved in, and I still have the pics that Carol sent to me when she first arrived. Pearl is a small horse—only fourteen hands, if you know horses—and when she was put into the pasture with the other bigger horses, I feared for her safety. No worries. Pearl was a kickin' and a bitin' and a takin' right good care of herself. She was tough! No one rode her for several months.
Pearl had come with her half-brother, Scout. While Scout, who was younger than Pearl, was away being trained, Carol decided to ride Pearl. I rode Taffy that day, and Linda, Carol's cousin, rode Surprise. Pearl was horrible! She tried to rub Carol off on every tree that they rode past. And she didn't just go to the edge of the tree—Pearl headed straight toward the middle of the tree! She was serious! Carol had all she could do to get Pearl to stay on the trail. And Taffy, who is normally the best behaved horse that you could imagine, was not happy with Pearl's antics, so she started misbehaving! Of course, since it was Taffy, it was minor. Anyway, we finally got to the end of the ride, and Carol was not rubbed off.
After Scout returned from training, Carol took Pearl and someone rode Scout out on the trail. With her brother there, Pearl was fine. Then Carol wanted me to ride Pearl. What?! That horse that tried to rub you off on every single tree out there?! I don't think so! But after thinking about it and feeling somewhat obligated because I had been riding her horses for several months—and I was kind of flattered that she trusted me with this green horse—I told her I'd do it.
The first time out was scary for me. All I could think about was what my good friend, Alice, used to tell me: green horse plus green rider equals black and blue! But all Pearl did was get antsy when we stopped, and then she raised up a little bit at this area close to home where a lot of horses react. Raised up her front legs, that is . . . not enough to be called a "rear up" but a little. Scary but not horrible.
The second time I rode her, we trailered out. I was still a little nervous and felt it was "work" instead of a pleasurable ride, but Pearl was fine. In fact, by the time we got back to the trailer three hours later, I was in love.
Back to living and dying and thinking about what I wanted to do with those four precious months. I wanted to go see Machu Pichu, but only for a few days, because I wanted to get back so I could ride Pearl. I wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt, but only for a few days, because I wanted to get back so I could ride Pearl. Every time I thought of something that I wanted to do, underneath the desire was a greater desire to ride Pearl. So I made the decision that if I really was dying that I would buy Pearl. But my colonoscopy still wasn't for a few more weeks.
In the meantime, two other people were interested in buying Pearl. I finally had this revelation that if my dying wish was to ride Pearl because of the joy that she brought me, shouldn't I have that same joy if I was going to live? So I did the only reasonable thing to do: I bought her.
Fast forward to my colonoscopy: Nothing! All that worry for nothing. I was clean and clear, and healthy as a horse! I can only believe that the whole symptom stuff was the universe screaming in my ear that I needed to buy this horse. You know how it works . . . the universe whispers to you . . . and if you don't hear it, it gets louder and louder and louder. This time, I may have heard the whispers, but I didn't pay attention until I heard the screams. Whatever it takes, you know.
So now, Pearl and I are living happily ever after. I cannot express to you the joy that I feel when I ride her. I love riding horses . . . most any horse . . . but with Pearl, it's different. It's almost like we are one. It's the greatest feeling. Joy. Pure joy.
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| Isn't she beautiful? |
