The Universe is so dang literal.
In a moment of frustration, I threw up my hands, and asked the universe: “Geeze, could you give me a break? Just a little one? I’m not asking for anything big here.”
The universe is very obliging. Note to self: when asking the universe for assistance, do NOT give any advice on how it should assist.
I was hoping for a little humor, a nice day, a pleasant surprise. In all fairness, it forked over all those things, except the pleasant part. Picky picky.
It gave me a break.
I deserve to be in the Guinness book of World Records.
I had a horse accident in which:
- I wasn’t on the horse
- The horse wasn’t moving
- The horse just happened to be in my way
- The horse did nothing at all, including blink
- I fractured a rib
An hour prior to the, er, accident: I ascended to Cloud Nine riding Melody. He’s tolerating my mistakes and is generously treating me like a hunt seat rider, giving me eager pizzazz and gorgeous gaits. I worked my butt off while he moved fluidly from one thing to the next. I didn’t want to leave Cloud Nine. It’s nice up there. Comfy. Fluffy. A couple of golden harps, some cute bunnies, and all the cake you can eat. Cloud Nine and I drove to Tiny’s barn. Tiny is my next ride. He’s my sofa horse, and needed to be restricted to light walking. I was looking forward to a lovely amble in the sunshine on his broad bare back. No effort after all that sweating to death, trying to be good enough for Melody. Perfect. Zzzzzzzz.
Anyone remember the last time I tried to get on Tiny bareback?
My Cloud, Tiny, and I all walked over to the mounting block. Something started tugging on my cloud, and I yanked it back. Hey, it’s MY cloud. Hands off!
I get on the mounting block, and push away the now frantic cloud yanking. Dang – can’t I have one nice moment here? I ignore it, prepare to leap lightly onto his back, and just as I leap off the block, my Cloud explodes and I receive an urgent message from the You Are SUCH An Idiot part of my brain: a photographic image of the last time I leapt “onto” Tiny. (Well, technically, I WAS on.) Panicking, I visualize levitating high above Tiny’s back.
I should have paid more attention in Levitation 101. (I was stupidly caught up in Spoon Bending and Aura Reading.)
I levitated enough to get fairly high above his wither.
Um. I forgot to get on. Instead of swinging my right side up and over his back, I went straight up like a rocket, and came straight down like a grand piano. There was a loud CRAAAAAAACK, and I felt a shock of pain go all the way through my back, down my left leg and strangely, my right arm. I was hanging vertically off Tiny’s left shoulder, just as if I were standing, only about 3 feet up in the air, hanging off his wither (backbone to the non-horsey) because it was jammed up in between my ribs. You know those old movies where someone picks up the kid brother and hangs him by his shirt on a hook on the back of the door? It was kind of like that. Except our bones were intertwined.
Tiny didn’t move a hoof. He turned his head to look at me and then turned it back, processing the scenario. (OW! ow ow ow ow OW. Please don’t move…please don’t move…)
Clearly this is part of some new sacking out program. Human hurls self at him, and he’s not supposed to react. So he doesn’t. Bless him!
It feels very weird to hang there. Gingerly, I use the palms of my hands to push down on his neck and back to gently lift myself up and disengage our bony structures. Nothing happens (if you don’t count the unintentional scream). Time to cowgirl up. I shove down hard on his neck and back: our bones disengage with a metal-rending groan more suitable to a fender-bender. My ribs do an awful kind of recoil. WOW that hurts. In a blinding, blackout, going-to-be-sick sort of way.
Which is why I could care less that I’ve slid all the way down Tiny’s shoulder/leg and am now crumpled onto the mounting block, holding my ribs, sitting underneath his belly. Concerned, Tiny turns his head and grabs onto my sleeve with his lips. He doesn’t pull or tug, just holds.
Someone leads a horse into the arena in lunging gear. Tiny flicks his ears back and forth and very gently pulls on my shirt. Get up! She’ll notice!
I use Tiny’s lowered neck to haul myself up off the mounting block. Holy CRAP it hurts. Morgan Freeman smiles knowingly at me from a radiant white throne, I lean in his direction. Tiny drags me away from the white light. He puts himself back into his paddock, I untack him, he closes the gate, and I lock it. He wishes me luck. (Don’t ask how I know it, I just know it.) I get to my car as fast as I can (not fast): I have to get home while I can still drive. Thank God I’ve hung around with rodeo types, XC event riders, and jumpers: I can breathe fine. That means I don’t have a broken rib and punctured lung. I’m guessing there’s about 20 minutes until it hurts too bad to move. Shock is our friend.
It hits me. What am I going to TELL people?
For Pete’s sake. I’ve had a rotational fall where I flipped over the horse’s head, and then the horse flipped over: I watched 1100 lbs of dead weight whump down on me, and I got…bruised. How on earth am I ever going to live down cracking a rib while trying to get ON the world’s safest horse? I try to think up a respectable way this injury could have happened. Thrown onto the rail? Thrown against the rail? Something remotely horsey? That doesn’t involve Jane being STUPID?
This is not an injury you can shrug off at home, and say “Oh nothing dear….WAIT!! Do NOT HUG me! Back away slowly. I have a bread knife.”
At all costs we do not want horses to look dangerous to Shaun. They are all monsters to her. She thinks I’m going to die daily, mauled by dangerous horses like Tiny.
I tell her the unvarnished truth (I’ll lie to my horse friends instead) in layman’s terms: I threw myself at a sofa because I wasn’t thinking. I hit the hard pointy back funny. The sofa didn’t move.
What I hadn’t counted on: how believable is it that I cracked a rib while getting on a horse that was cooperating completely? Surely the evil horse did something! It’s a horse, I’m hurt, therefore the horse hurt me.
“Okay”, says Shaun, totally not buying it, “What really happened?”
“I forgot the mounting block was too short, threw myself at Tiny, didn’t quite make it, and got stuck on his whith….shoulder bone.” I say.
“Right” says Shaun, “I’m waiting. I’m losing my patience. Tell me the TRUTH.”
Great. There goes lying to my friends. Shaun is going to call Daisy if I insist this wacko story is true, and ask what she thinks.
(Dang you Daisy! LIE. Just not, uh, now.)
I sigh, “I’ll call Daisy. I’ll put her on speaker, okay?”
“Really?” says Shaun, surprised, “you haven’t told Daisy?” She thinks for a minute. “You really did do something that stupid?”
“I told you I was telling the truth” I say, hoping I won’t have to call Daisy.
Shaun hears the hope in my voice. “Forget it. You’re calling.”
I speed dial Daisy. Put the cell on speaker.
“Hola?” says Daisy
“It’s me. I’m on speaker with Shaun…” I start.
“How bad are you hurt?” Daisy says. Why does she go right to ‘I’m hurt’ if I put Shaun on speaker??
“Fractured rib, I’m fine”, I say, adding: “Shaun needs to know if how it happened is possible.”
“Oh” says Daisy, relieved. (A fractured rib being NBD in the hunter world) “How did it happen?”
I spill. Daisy is laughing from the moment I tell her I stepped on the mounting block, because she knows the 3 step mounting block is gone.
“HAHAHAHAHA….only YOU…HEHEHEHEHA…could have…AGAIN…HOHOHEHA…Jane you KILL me!!”
Shaun now believes it’s true, but asks Daisy anyway, “So is that even possible? Could my wife really have done something THAT ridiculous?” A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.
“TOTALLY” says Daisy. “That is SO Jane. And Tiny, I can see his face! HAHahahahaha…”
I am SO ready to hang up.
“Wait!” says Daisy, urgently,”Did anyone get it on tape?” Pause. “What about on their cell phone?”
Thank God no one was in the arena, or I might be on YouTube right now.