I had knee surgery in December. It was not as successful as I had hoped. Evidently I do not have any cartilage left in my right knee. I am a candidate for knee replacement, but the Doctor, in his infinite wisdom, wants me to wait. The replacement only has a thirty year shelf life and he doesn’t want me to have to have it replaced a second time. Come on! By then I will be 87 years old; who cares if my knee works at that age.
My biggest fear is that I will not be able to ride my horses for more than a few minutes at a time. I have spent lots of time on the ground teaching Cisco to drop me off at the mounting block and to stand quietly while I get everything situated. I’ve lengthened my stirrups to relieve some of the pressure. Other than an hour or so around the house, I haven’t done much. I believe in the old adage, what you don’t know doesn’t exist!
This past Friday I loaded my trusty steed and headed out for a weekend of camping with horses and friends. I thought “Ok, if it hurts, I’ll just stay at the camp and that’s ok”. Well, let me tell you, it was the MOST wonderful weekend imaginable. Sure my knee hurt after two hours in the saddle, but then again, so did my butt! We logged a total of ten hours on the trails. Which is approximately 20 miles. I can’t move today, but I also can’t get the smile off my face.
My new trailer is great! I sleep in the goose-neck and live in the dressing room. We have it down pat and set up quite the site. My hubby decided he would “cater” my food and packed me the most wonderful cooler imaginable. Who else gets to dine on crab cakes, stone crab claws and cold baked spaghetti. He even packed me a pancake wrap of peanut butter and bananas. Each container was neatly labeled with which meal it was. I even had happy hour containers! It is difficult to stay mad at that man. My peeps want to hire him for their meals as well.
Cisco was great. He and I do not have a smooth history on the trails. We both grew up in the English Ring, going around and around. Nothing to jump out at you when you do that. This weekend he discovered that playing in a stream is much more fun than shying away from the mud. He moved some trees, earning the name Dozier. (I still have leaves and branches in my saddle) and he walked quietly no matter where he was in the conga line. He does not like grapes.
All in all a wonderful and restorative weekend. I am so excited about the next trip!