Switching Gears

Switching Gears

I saw my oncologist last Thursday. It would be the eighteenth time I travelled to the city to see her. There is nothing more they can do for me now except keep me on hormone blockers and watch. I was advised to “go live your life…” and we’ll see you in six months. I am now able to run, walk, crawl, slither, rise, and fly if I want. Life has changed, and I have changed. It wasn’t just cancer that changed me, but life. Physically, I have some side effects from my ordeal, but mostly I am healthy and able to live normally. My psychological and emotional state is calmer and more focused, but it is a work in progress.

Much has changed in the world over the last four years. When I think about all of the changes I have personally been through, it is kind of amazing. One of the hardest things I ever had to do was give up my horses. Everyone who knows me knows that my entire life has been living and breathing horses. I lived tucked away on Treasure Farm for over twenty years with my horses. Not just any horses, but Nina and her son, Spanker. Nina was an old-fashioned quarter horse. She was stocky and short, and Spanker was built exactly like her. Nina was a beautiful palomino, but willful, and her son was a chestnut with two white socks. I loved to ride her bareback, but she would always buck me off. One day, I rode her up to Cooper Lake, and as soon as we got to the lake, she bucked me off and ran home. Everyone laughed as I came trailing behind. Spanker never ever bucked anyone off. He was ever the gentleman and taught all of my nieces how to ride. He lived to be 28 years old, and when he passed, my veterinarian wrote a note saying how wonderful it was that Spanker had spent his entire life in a loving home with me, which was the best thing anyone could have said to me after losing my equine son.

Many horses would come and go over the years at Treasure Farm, and I took care of them all like they were my own. In actuality, they were. The city folk only spent a couple of hours a week with them in their riding lessons, but once the lessons were over, yep, they were mine again.  I did not mind; they were my kids, my family. Once the last horse they owned passed away, my tenure at Treasure Farm was fading. The only horses left were mine. The following fall, they asked me to go. They wanted to use my cottage for their guests, and these days, with cameras and other security, there was no longer a need for an actual live caretaker.

It was a natural next step for me, but the horses were another story. To this day, I feel guilty about having to rehome them. If I ever thought for one moment that I could not give them a forever home, I would never have taken them in the first place. But life sometimes has other plans, and you have to rise to the occasion as best you can. My life situation was changing dramatically, and I had to adapt. The silver lining here was that I finally got my house. My very own home, and I did it myself.

Luckily, I did not have lasting physical effects other than cosmetic and annoyance issues, and I miraculously kept my job. And in 2022, I got a better job. But not everyone is so lucky. Some might not be able to keep their jobs and have to start over once their treatment is over. That is, if they can. Some have lasting treatment effects that have more serious consequences.

Buying my house when I did was the universe looking out for me. Having my own home to be sick in and sad in and a way to move forward and then be hopeful in is what helped save me. Everything in my house has meaning. Every little thing, from my Grandmother’s chair to my saddles to a ceramic trivet from the Purple Cow hanging for decades in my kitchen, which was given to me by someone I loved a long time ago. Everything has a place and meaning to me, and the familiarity sustained me every day.

Switching gears is part of life for most people, and some have to switch major gears through no fault of their own. I was forced to switch gears when I had to move from my caretaking situation, but it had a good outcome: my house. I had to rehome my horses because of this, but if I had been in that situation and I got sick, I would never have been able to take care of them or find them homes, and God only knows what would have happened. They both eventually got good homes, a good outcome. It happened that way because it was supposed to. I couldn’t see it at the time, but I see it now and am excited to see what’s next, when I might have to switch gears again.