In Part Five of this excerpt from the new book Equine ER, spring comes for Selena, a Bluegrass polo pony who was found critically injured in a field, and who struggled over many months to heal from devastating injuries.

Now picture the father: It is May and Frank Proto drives down from New York to take his daughter home from college for the summer and to see Selena at the hospital barn. The horse is continuing to recover but she’ll likely never play polo again. She’ll be shipped back up to New York when she’s ready. Frank Proto once dreamed of being a horse doc, as he puts it. (His daughter tells me one of the reasons he’s not is because he couldn’t stand to put horses down.) Now he’s a county legislator and bank vice president. He has thick gray hair and green eyes, wears a corduroy jacket and smokes a pipe. He has an ease about him; he’s probably a great party guest. He played polo in college at Cornell under “Doc” Roberts, the well-known veterinary professor and notoriously tough polo coach who died in 2005 at 89. Roberts once pinned an overly aggressive player against the boards in a Madison Square Garden match not soon forgotten by anyone who was there.

Selena before the trauma that changed her life.

I ask Frank what kind of person plays polo, the game Gonzalo Pieres, the Argentine player, once said “should be played with hot blood and a cool head.”

 “To play polo,” Frank says, “you have to be a little nuts. Who in their right mind would get on a pony going 45 miles an hour waving a stick?” We’re in his silver truck, his daughter is driving, he’s shotgun, I’m in the back. We’re en route to see Selena. The power steering went out on Frank’s drive down from New York, and he keeps telling his daughter to slow down on the narrow country roads. “And we didn’t even have the helmets you guys have now,” he says. “We had these leather helmets that looked like something out of an old Ronald Reagan war movie.”

A great polo horse, Frank says, is gutsy. “Size is important but not key; they shouldn’t be more than 16 hands and should be smart, quick learners. They have to want to play. Winning depends as much on the horse as it does on you.”

As we drive on, Frank tells me his daughter got her first polo lesson at age twelve, when she weighed forty pounds soaking wet. They got her up on Speedy, now passed away, who in his prime was one of Cornell’s top polo ponies. Selena was bought the following year and Mia started to play seriously. In talking about the sport once, Mia told me, “It’s a rush. In a car, if you’re going 40 to 45 miles an hour … it doesn’t seem very fast, but when you’re on the back of a horse, you’re flying. The ground is a blur. When I play, I don’t hear the crowd. I can only hear the horses, and the people I’m playing with. It’s like being in your own world, flying around completely unprotected, about an inch from death.”

We finally arrive at the hospital barn to see Selena.

Thursday: How did Selena look?

The reviews have started to come in for Equine ER, the new book by Leslie Guttman published by Blood-Horse's Eclipse Press. Maryjean Wall, one of the country's most noted turf writers, wrote this in a review on her blog, "... (Guttman) weaves engaging tales in telling of the heroic lengths to which veterinarians and horse owners go in trying to save sick and injured equines ... we highly recommend it." To order Equine ER, click here. Thank you for visiting this blog.   

In Part Four of this excerpt from the new book Equine ER, Selena, a Bluegrass polo pony who was found critically injured in a field, struggles with a setback after finally leaving the clinic.

When she is released from the hospital, Selena appears fully on the mend. But during the polo pony’s rehabilitation, after it is apparent the pain is increasing in her left hind limb, she is diagnosed with laminitis and has to return to the clinic. The edema (swelling) in her left hind leg has resulted in significant inflammation and restricted blood flow to her left hind foot. The situation is serious. However, her laminitis is in a hind leg not a front, which carries more of the horse’s weight, and X-rays show her coffin bone, while rotating, is not sinking.

Selena and her owner several days before the trauma occurred.

Dr. Robert Agne treats Selena aggressively with specialized shoes, anti-inflammatories, and various other medications and treatments. Her supporting hind limb stays healthy. The laminitis begins to mend, and after two weeks, she leaves Rood & Riddle Equine Hospital again for a hospital barn at Caddel Equine Therapy Center in nearby Georgetown, Kentucky, for further recovery. The bills are getting higher.

People assume Selena’s owner, Mia Proto, is wealthy because her dad is a politician and a banker, because she plays polo and went to private school. Her family has a Thoroughbred breeding farm (albeit a small one) and the home in which she grew up is historic. Her great-grandmother was even an Italian baroness on the island of Capri.

But now at nineteen, Proto tells me she is expected by her family to pay her own way as much as possible. Her dad takes care of her tuition, but she pays the rest – room, board, and expenses – by working two jobs. Because her family is helping her with Selena’s bills (around $32,000, more than $16,000 at Rood & Riddle alone), that means that she is now also expected to graduate in three years instead of four from the University of Kentucky’s new equine science and management program. However, a horse owner is often no different from a mother (or father): If sacrifices need to be made, Proto will make them: She moves to an apartment in a bad neighborhood, lives on Ramen noodles, forgoes new clothes and sneakers, and thoughts of spring breaks in the sun.

The college student is more mature than many, which makes it easier. She has her life planned out: She wants to own and run a Thoroughbred broodmare farm similar to the larger, neighboring one she worked on growing up where stakes-winner Sharp Humor, a son of noted sire Distorted Humor, was foaled. She’s so serious and well-spoken – no “ums” or “likes” or statements sounding as if they’re ending in questions – that I’m relieved when the following information is revealed because it reassures me that she hasn’t been body-snatched by a thirty-five-year-old: She has the Pussycat Dolls on her iPod; she remains a big fan of Walter Farley’s classic children’s book, The Black Stallion; and she grew up watching AMC’s 8 a.m. morning Westerns while eating her cereal, resulting in a passion for John Wayne. 

Monday: Spring arrives: Did Selena recover?

The reviews have started to come in for Equine ER, the new book by Leslie Guttman published by Blood-Horse's Eclipse Press. Maryjean Wall, one of the country's most noted turf writers, wrote this in a review on her blog, "... (Guttman) weaves engaging tales in telling of the heroic lengths to which veterinarians and horse owners go in trying to save sick and injured equines ... we highly recommend it." To order Equine ER, click here. Thank you for visiting this blog.  

In Part Three of this excerpt from the new book Equine ER, Selena, a Bluegrass polo pony found critically injured in a field, struggles to recover in the intensive care unit. Will she survive?

One of the biggest problems for veterinarians is that their patients can’t talk. No one will ever know what truly happened to Selena. But Dr. Brett Woodie doesn’t need Selena to talk to see how much pain she is in over the next forty-eight hours. Despite the fentanyl patches and pain medications, he can tell it hurts her to even move. She appears terribly depressed, her head constantly down. Yet it turns out that Selena knows how to take care of herself.

Selena roughly two and half months after being in the hospital.

Horses have two kinds of sleep: slow-wave, while standing, and paradoxical, a deeper REM sleep where they must lie down. (They also have a drowsy standing state.) Horses guard each other while they sleep, both in the wild and in paddocks; they are creatures of flight, genetically wired to escape predators. But an injured horse needs more rest and more sleep than normal. Despite being alone in a strange place that must be frightening, Selena immediately lies down and gives herself the rest and sleep she needs to heal. But she doesn’t overdo it, which would make her vulnerable to secondary problems (like sores and pneumonia).

In only two days, the swelling in her left hind leg is down enough for Woodie to clean and debride (remove dead tissue) the wounds and put a drain in the largest one to evacuate fluid. After three days of treatment, the swelling is down in her eye and Latimer can see the globe is intact. But the horse can’t blink correctly; it’s unclear at this stage whether it’s a mechanical or neurological problem, but without being able to spread her tear film, she won’t be able to take care of her cornea. Also, Latimer sees Selena has hemorrhaged into the cornea itself, which is unusual; it doesn’t endanger her eyesight but it does signify the strength of the blow to her head.

But despite her age, Selena is trim and strong and healthy, an athlete, not an out-of-shape paddock potato, a tubby binge eater. This makes all the difference, as it would with a human. Over the coming weeks, the healing of her multiple wounds progresses steadily, including her eye. She stays at Rood & Riddle Equine Hospital until mid-February. When she is released, her vision appears normal.

Thursday: Laminitis rears its head for Selena. 

The reviews have started to come in for Equine ER, the new book by Leslie Guttman published by Eclipse Press. Maryjean Wall, one of the country's most noted turf writers, wrote this in a review on her blog, "... (Guttman) weaves engaging tales in telling of the heroic lengths to which veterinarians and horse owners go in trying to save sick and injured equines ... we highly recommend it." To order Equine ER, click here. Thank you for visiting this blog.  

In Part Two of this excerpt from the new book Equine ER, Selena, a Bluegrass polo pony, is rushed to the emergency room after being found critically injured in a field. Will she survive?

The farm’s theory that her horse ran through a fence doesn’t hold up with Mia Proto because Selena’s front legs and chest aren’t torn up; no pressure lines are evident on her skin. As Proto looks around the pasture, she doesn’t see any ripped bushes near the fences or any new fence posts being put in or old ones being straightened. Later, she drives around the entire farm twice: same thing.

Proto believes what really happened that night in the pasture was that Selena got attacked by another horse at the farm, a bully Proto says she had previously seen picking on other horses, chasing them across the property, teeth bared. After playing so much polo, she cannot imagine Selena running around the pasture and putting herself through a fence; her normal routine after a match is to eat and immediately go to sleep. Proto believes the mare was so exhausted from her third chukker – the one she made her play – that the twenty-one-year-old mare got chased around the pasture by the dominant horse, run through bushes and other foliage, dropped from exhaustion, and was kicked in the head. Proto can’t forgive herself.

Selena in the emergency room.

Dr. Nick Smith, one of Rood & Riddle’s field vets, follows behind the trailer taking Selena to the hospital. He is scared the mare won’t make it. He was the first vet called to the farm, and the sight of the mare was one of the most gruesome scenes he has encountered since getting out of vet school in 2007.

Selena is whisked to a stall outside radiology the moment she arrives at Rood & Riddle. Dr. Brett Woodie performs an emergency tracheotomy so she can breathe. While nursing techs and doctors work to stabilize Selena, clean off the mud and dirt all over her body, and radiograph her head and lacerated limbs, Dr. Claire Latimer, the clinic’s specialist in veterinary ophthalmology, talks with Proto outside the emergency stall.

Latimer explains that it’s not actually the eyeball hanging out of Selena’s eye, but her third eyelid, or what’s called the nictitating membrane. It is normally tucked behind the lid in the inner corner of the eye, but on Selena, it is so swollen it can’t fit. The third eyelid acts as a windshield wiper: Horses can pull their globes back in and flash the membrane across the surface of the cornea to protect it, or get something out of it such as dust. Latimer has seen her share of exploded eyeballs, but often when she has a horse with a third eyelid as swollen as Selena’s, the globe behind it is intact. They will have to wait until the swelling goes down to know for sure. However, even if it is intact, Latimer doesn’t know if the third eyelid will survive; for now, the vet will have to keep the exposed tissue from drying out until it can fit back in its inside pocket.

Selena’s radiographs show that despite the lacerations and swelling, the horse doesn’t have any damage to her skull or left hind cannon bone. She needs surgery to repair the wounds on her legs and clean out dirt that could cause infection, but she won't be anesthetized until she's stable. Her immediate treatment includes fluids, antibiotics, and analgesics given intravenously, as well as anti-inflammatory drugs. The bulging eyelid is packed with gel and Selena’s head wrapped with gauze and bandages. She is moved to the intensive care unit.

Monday: Somehow, amid all the pain, Selena knows how to take care of herself.

Readers have been weighing in with their feedback on Equine ER, the new book by Leslie Guttman published by Eclipse Press. Here's what Paul Groffie of Marlton, N.J., recently wrote us: "... I cannot thank you enough for taking a subject that you do not get to hear about that much and sharing it with your readers.  ... Barbaro opened up a new desire in me to learn a little more about what horses (& owners) go through and your book WAS AWESOME!"  To order Equine ER, click here. Thank you for visiting this blog.  

In Part One of this excerpt from the new book Equine ER, Selena, a Bluegrass polo pony belonging to a college student, was found critically injured in a field. Will she survive?

“The horizon is the edge of your polo field, the earth is the ball in the curve of your polo stick. Until you are blotted out of existence as the dust, gallop and press on your horse, for the ground is yours.”
– Twelfth century Persian poet Nizami’s advice on how to live a full life

Picture the college sophomore: She is slender, long black hair, green eyes, a face that belongs on a Roman coin. It is late January. Mia Proto is beat; she played six chukkers (seven-minute periods) of polo, round-robin style, last night at the Kentucky Horse Park on the University of Kentucky polo team. In her calculus class, she gets a text message from the farm where her horse, Selena, is boarded. It says to call right away, it’s about her horse, the vet is coming. Proto runs out of class and speeds to the barn in her old blue Volvo.

Selena five days before being severely injured. 

Picture the horse: The day before, Selena’s dark bay coat shone in the arena, all 880 pounds of her doing exactly what Proto wanted in this hockey game on horseback. She held ponies twice her size off the line, galloping full-throttle the length of the arena and stopping five feet from the wall. Proto played Selena again for the third chukker instead of the normal two periods per pony because there weren’t any fresh horses, but Selena was fit enough. Now at the barn, as Proto looks at Selena, it’s an unbearable sight. Her eyeball appears to be hanging out of her left socket; it’s a red jelly-like blob. Her left hind leg, haphazardly bandaged with someone’s T-shirt, has one severe laceration down to the cannon bone, along with a couple of smaller ones. Her head and neck are so swollen, she can barely hold her head up or breathe; the swelling is blocking her airway. Selena looks like a crime victim. The people at the farm say she ran through a fence.

Picture the night before in the pasture: You can’t. Humans know very little about what goes on at night between horses. During the day, they look so peaceful out there … that is not always true. In many pastures, rivalries and competition are everywhere, especially when horses are thrown together at boarding facilities. (With bands in the wild, however, that’s usually not the case, save for stallions vying for a mare.)

Proto asks me: Do you ever notice how they’re grazing and roaming in different corners, some alone, some bunched together? Those are cliques, she says. “Once the pecking order is established with horses,” Proto says, “very rarely does a high-ranked horse get marked down. It’s kind of like working in an office.” Down here in Lexington, at a strange farm away from home, Selena is submissive, one of the lowest on the totem pole. She is the type of horse, according to Proto, who “needs a human next to her to make her feel strong. Someone to protect her. But she also needs someone she can push against.”

Thursday: Selena's owner doesn't think her injuries are from running through a fence. And will the polo pony make it?

In her advance praise for Equine ER  the new book from Eclipse Press by Leslie Guttman, Susan Richards, author of the New York Times best-seller "Chosen by a Horse," says the book is “as thrilling and drama-filled as any of the popular hospital shows on television today.”  To order Equine ER, click here. Thank you for visiting this blog.