THE NEED FOR CLARITY (It's Not Just About the Horses!)

Another unexpected hospital stay. Another discharge without answers. 

About a year and a half ago, I spent five days as a patient in Memphis Baptist Hospital during what was supposed to be a relaxing visit with my girls. Five days. IV antibiotics. Multiple theories as to what caused the trouble: appendicitis, rare diseases, perforation, cancer-all ruled out. Follow up with my home specialists showed all was well. Decades of training and experience and their best guess was some sort of bacterial infection in my gut. 

After Sunday evening's bout of what I thought was stomach flu left me with some symptoms too similar to my Memphis troubles, I went in for a check. Admitted overnight, again doctors were flummoxed. "Are you sure there's no family history of...fill in the blank with a myriad of grasping straw ideas? You're active. Healthy. No falls." My bloodwork and information complicated the puzzle that my pain and symptoms were creating. I was discharged yesterday, again, without solutions. 

No answers. No clarity. Frustration. A lack of relaxation. Stress. This is the same with my horse training. I write about it in Mustang Memoir: It's Not Just About the Horses. It is one of the topics I'm expanding on in the companion guide to the memoir I'm drafting. 

Leaving the hospital for the second time without clarity leaves me in a state of insecurity. If I don't know why something happened, how can I keep it from happening again? If I don't know what caused the inflammation, I have no control over avoiding it in the future. I can't make choices that not only keep me out of trouble, but that bring me positive results. 

Despite the frustration, there was one difference this time. This time, one doctor has promised to keep digging. He listed more than one option to find answers once the current situation settles down. Small steps. Doing less before doing more. 

Hope. 

This time, I left with the knowledge that it isn't over, that I can move forward and hopefully have this figured out before it occurs again. It brought me right back to my training. When I mark small steps in the right direction, Cinder understands she's on the right track. It keeps her focused, interested, and out of frustration mode. I felt this yesterday on such a deep, personal level as I drove out of the hospital parking lot.

This is one of the reasons I never give up. Breaking down a big obstacle into small pieces keeps things in perspective, makes the impossible possible. I might not be up to a huge problem, but I know I can tackle it in smaller increments, so I whittle it down into manageability. 

I will have clarity. For now, I'm okay. I'm home. The weather is shifting. I'm tired, but have the luxury of slowing down and doing less without too much fallout. I've even been able to consider finding Cinder a new herd mate without breaking down over the loss of Cappy. 

Small steps, never taken for granted.

Clarity. Safety. Choice. Control of those choices to achieve and prioritize joy when possible. 

Great things ahead.