August 7, 2002
When I arrived at the barn, at around 4 in the afternoon,
I immediately knew Banshee was not right. While there was nothing overtly wrong with her, and
in fact no one had noticed anything peculiar, she just seemed slightly off. She walked a little
too slowly and seemed disinterested in food. She still nickered when she saw me but I decided to
call the vet anyway - I would rather pay an emergency vet bill for nothing than wait and have
something bad happen. I called the vet and started walking her - I thought she might be colicking
even though she showed none of the 'typical' colic signs - she wasn't sweaty at all, she wasn't trying
to roll or thrash, she wasn't biting at her sides or kicking at herself. After about 45 minutes,
she began to exhibit some early signs - she wanted to lie down more than anything, and seemed
to be in some discomfort. Repeated calls to the vet office and the vet's answering service were
finally answered by the arrival of the vet, about an hour after the initial call.
After a short exam, the vet felt Banshee was not only colicking, but had somehow twisted her gut
since she had very minimal gut sounds. She began to show serious signs of distress, and the vet
felt that she needed immediate surgury to give her a chance to survive. The nearest hospital open
to emergency calls was Mid Atlantic Equine Hospital in Ringoes - but there was no trailer at the
farm to get Banshee there. Knocking on the neighbors' doors proved unproductive since none had
their trailers at their farm at that time. The closest trailer we could find would take over an
hour to even arrive - an hour Banshee didn't seem to have. Nonetheless, we had no choice since that
was the only trailer we could find on short notice - so I settled into walking Banshee, trying to
keep her from thrashing, and trying to staunch the massive nose bleed she'd gotten from the nasal tube.
When the trailer finally arrived Banshee loaded well, although she was anxious about leaving
the farm since she does not like to be alone. What should have been an hour trip to the hospital
stretched close to three hours, as the directions we were given proved to be wrong, and repeated
calls to the hospital resulted in more confusing and wrong directions. The entire time I rode with
Banshee in the trailer, talking to her, telling her stories and keeping her attention on something
besides her pain and fear of being alone. When we finally arrived at the hospital late that night,
Banshee unloaded and in fact seemed far better. She showed no signs of distress and didn't appear
in any pain. However, during the initial exam she began to show serious signs of distress. The
doctors told me to make a decision whether to do the surgury or not, and recommended it be done
right away to give her the best chance of survival. I opted to do the surgury.
Of course, they would not start unless they had a minimum deposit of $4000, which they ensure by
taking your credit card number and making you sign releases and promises of payment. Once they had
those, they prepped Banshee for surgury. We waited in their lobby for about an hour and a half.
The surgeon came out and told us they had untwisted Banshee's cecum, which had twisted around and
blocked off her intestine. It's a fairly rare form of twisted gut, and usually hard to recover from.
They didn't have to remove any sections of intestine since we'd caught it so early. They believed
she twisted from sand - her system had become so overloaded with sand, which horses have trouble
eliminating from their intestines, that it had blocked off the entrance to her cecum and caused it
to rotate. She was now in recovery and they expected she would be fine.
August 8, 2002
I went back to visit Banshee the next day, to see how she was feeling after her surgury. I also
had to get bank checks, as I didn't want them to charge $4000 to my sister's credit card and they
would not wait. I still remember the first time I saw Banshee - she was absolutely miserable.
Standing in a big stall well bedded in shavings, she was dirty and drooping, had a filthy bandage
half hanging off a giant surgical incision that took up most of her stomach, and was absolutely
plagued with flies. She seemed too tired to even try to swat them off. I walked her outside, but she
was completely disinterested in eating or moving, and seemed to want to just stand in the stall.
When I mentioned the dirty bandage to one of the workers, I was told it was going to be taken off
soon anyway.
August 14, 2002
Banshee came home from the hospital today. I had been working every day and was unable to visit her,
but she seemed in much better spirits despite the enormous amount of swelling on her stomach. Her
entire lower line was distorted and swollen. She had been put into an isolation barn, and had
apparently been very upset because she could not see other horses. The worker joked about
hoping she wouldn't jump out of the stall. She seemed happy to leave, even though she banged
her hip on a narrow doorway when one of the workers was leading her out to the trailer. She loaded
fine and was moderately well behaved for the much shorter trip back to the farm.
August 15, 2002
Banshee was allowed to go out in a small paddock fenced for her. The paddock was 10 feet wide and
20 feet long, with a connecting 12 foot by 12 foot shed. She seemed content to just stand and see
the other horses. I noticed something that I thought I had seen before - even though her entire
stomach was swollen, there was a certain spot along the incision that seemed more swollen than the
rest.
August 29, 2002
The slightly more swollen lump became more prominent as the rest of the swelling went down. This
lump did not appear to go down at all. I called the vet, and was told to wait and see - quite
a bit of swelling is expected, especially along the incision. Banshee was moved to a larger paddock
roughly 80 feet by 100 feet - big enough for her to move around in, but too small to run and
play in.
August 31, 2002
I went to the barn after work today, and did my usual routine of checking Banshee's incision.
I was watching the lump that didn't seem to go down, because I was starting to suspect it was
more than just routine swelling. Today, I saw an enormous wad of yellow pus dangling from the
incision. I called the vet, who made an appointment to come out the next day.
September 1, 2002
The vet arrived in the rain and examined the lump. It could be a hernia, although without
doing an ultrasound there was no way to be sure, but there was definitely an infection along the
incision. The vet proscribed bute and sulfa twice a day.
September 10, 2002
Recheck - the infection was still present although it looked nearly gone, and the vet thought the
lump looked like a hernia although the area was still too swollen to be sure.
September 17, 2002
Recheck - the infection appeared to be gone. The pus had stopped and the hole had closed. I
finished her dose of sulfa.
October 11, 2002
Almost all of the swelling had gone down at this point, leaving the swollen lump sticking out
even more prominently. The incision itself had scarred over, and there had been no other problems.
Today as I was grooming Banshee I went to get a good look at the incision and saw something
very horrible looking. It appeared to be a yellowish squishy lump, slightly wet and soft, sticking
out of the back of the incision. I didn't understand how anything could be coming out of an incision
that had been completely healed over before, and I rushed home to seek medical advice online since
I didn't think I could reach a vet after 11 pm on a friday night. I was given all sorts of
conflicting medical advice, but the wisest heads told me that it would be okay for the night, and
to call the vet early in the morning since I would have a far better chance of getting one.
October 12, 2002
Another emergency farm call. The bizarre yellow blob was pus, which had collected over a suture
and formed a skin. The suture had to be removed and the infection opened so it could drain.
The vet suspected that the infection was the same as the one before
which would suggest that it was resistant to the sulfa antibiotic. He took a culture of the pus,
which would take a few days to grow in the laboratory. Until then, I gave Banshee the same admittedly
outclassed antibiotic as before.
October 18, 2002
The vet was coming to the farm to do routine fall shots, and he brought some bad news. The results
had come back - the infection was pseudomonas, a very nasty bacteria known as a 'hospital bacteria.'
It tended to go around hospitals and was just about as nasty as they come - it was resistant to
almost all drugs and antibiotics. It could cause blindness, heart failure, skin necrosis, or
death. The only drug it was not completely resistant to was Gentomycin - a new drug that had one
fairly bad side effect - it could cause kidney damage or failure. Still, it was the only one that would
work. So Banshee now went on a regimen of large doses of Gentomycin injected into her neck every day,
as well as daily flushing of the open infection pocket.
October 24, 2002
I gave the last injection today, although the infection did not appear to be gone yet. I had
made an appointment with the vet to do an ultrasound today to see the extent of Banshee's infection.
The ultrasound revealed that there was in fact a small hernia, where her intestine had pushed through
the lining of her abdomen and was pushing out against her skin. She also had a large seroma,
a pocket of body fluid, right on top of the hernia. The seroma was most likely caused by damage
to the tissue in her body from the surgury. The injured tissue tries to heal itself by releasing
fluid. There is no way to speed the healing of a seroma - draining it is temporary, as it will
fill up again. It takes months to go away. There also seemed to be just the one pocket of infection.
The hernia would have to be repaired surgically, and the vet was unsure if surgeons would operate
while Banshee had a seroma.
October 25, 2002
I had to pick up more Gentomycin, as the vet decided to continue it until the infection cleared up.
I was also told to collect a urine sample to check if Banshee's kidneys had been damaged yet by
the medicine.
October 26, 2002
Banshee's normally sunny outlook suddenly changed. Overnight, she became depressed and weak. She
barely ate, and left much of her food pushed around in her stall. She would not look up or pick her
head up, she was slightly chilled and she walked very slowly. I called the vet, but did not get a call
back.
October 27, 2002
I called the vet again, and finally spoke with him. Apparently, he'd been expecting her to become
depressed from the antibiotic - he proscribed bute but there was really nothing else I could do.
October 29, 2002
I gave the last shot today in the morning. I went to the barn again after work and was completely
appalled by the sudden and alarming amount of hard swollen lumps on Banshee's neck - previously
she had hardly any swelling, but it seemed to be a case of the straw that broke the camels back.
I called the vet several times and finally got a return call. There was really nothing else to do
for the lumps but bute and hot compresses. Banshee was in obvious misery.
November 7, 2002
Banshee has been slowly recovering from the shots. The lumps on her neck went down after several
days, and she slowly seemed to work back to her normal self. She picked her head up, walked a little
faster, and started eating again. The vet was out to look at another horse, but I asked if she would
look at the infection. It appeared to be going away - I just had to continue flushing out the pocket
and keeping it clean.
November 13, 2002
I ran out of the saline solution I was flushing with, but the infection appears to be gone.
There hasn't been any pus for several days, and the hole has closed to the point where I can hardly
find it. Banshee is her normal self, in fact she seems better than she has in a month. The seroma
even looks like it might have gone down a little bit, although that could just be wishful thinking.