My Horseback Healing

Everything in my life was falling apart. Would I have to give up riding too?

- Lisa Shaver

PISTOL WAITS FOR ME BY THE gate outside her stable. What took you so long? I can almost hear her thinking. It’s one of those mornings when the pain in my back, legs and arms makes me not want to even move. She nudges at my front pocket, at the peppermint puffs I’ve brought, her favorite treat. Practically my whole life, I’ve lived to be riding a horse. After the accident, the thought of never again knowing that feeling, that oneness, nearly killed me. I had lost so much: my job, my marriage. I had no idea then that it would be a horse who’d save me.

It started with such a small thing. In March 2003, getting out of my car on my way to work as an administrative assistant for the New York State Police, I’d slipped on ice, fracturing my left elbow. I had surgery and went on short term disability for eight weeks while trying to care for three kids—ages 10, 8 and 7—as a single mom with one good arm. But what was the hardest was not being able to ride. I still owned the horse I’d bought when I was 12 years old, Reba. Ashlynne, my youngest, was learning to ride him with confidence. I loved sharing that bond. My cast came offand I went riding that very afternoon. I thought my troubles were over.

Two years later, I was driving and rested my left arm against the door. My hand went numb. I shook it to get the feeling back. Nothing. A week went by with no improvement. I went to a neurologist.

“Has this arm ever had some kind of trauma?” he asked. It took me a second to even remember the fall. “You’ve had nerve damage,” the doctor said. “Surgery should correct it. You won’t even miss a beat.”

Perfect, I thought. But the night after the operation, I woke, my arm throbbing. I took ibuprofen and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. By the next morning, my fingers were swollen and turning blue.