Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“RC’s pathology results are back. And neurology wants to meet with us before the luncheon.”
“Good.” Carson nodded at this news. “What did pathology say?”
“Benign. Thank goodness.” I exhaled. Equine cancer was rare, but the consequences and hard conversations were something I was only too grateful to avoid. “The team wants to discuss removal versus watchful waiting.”
“Great news.” Carson sped through the last few bites on his plate.
After breakfast, we made our way to campus and the equine hospital. Because today was a Saturday, there was less activity at the hospital, but plenty of people remained around. Because sick horses could need round-the-clock care, staff rotated shifts throughout the week.
Further, since it was an alum weekend, more folks were working prior to the luncheon at noon, including the head of neurology. Like Scott, she was from my graduating class, but thankfully, I didn’t know her well beyond being aware that she’d graduated at the top of the class and had gone on to specialize in equine neurology with an unparalleled reputation.
“You’ve brought us an unusual case.” Dr. Cross, who insisted we call her Cynthia, met us in a small conference room. She was a small woman with delicate features and long auburn hair gathered into a bun. She projected a series of MRI images onto a large wall-mounted screen opposite us. “I’ve never seen an MRI quite like this.”
“Tumor?” Carson asked, squinting at the various images of Linus’s brain.
“No, but there’s clear evidence of prior damage, like a stroke or some sort of injury.” Cynthia used an enlarged mouse cursor to point to the areas she was most concerned with, zooming in on a few spots.
“Knew it.” Carson gave an emphatic nod.
“You were right.” I released a heavy sigh. This wasn’t something to celebrate, even if I was happy to prove Scott’s initial assessment wrong. “I was hoping you weren’t.” I shifted my attention back to Cynthia. “How bad is it?”
Cynthia launched into the medical specifics, showing which areas had the most damage and explaining the evidence of a prior significant brain hemorrhage. It was honestly a wonder the horse had lived through it, let alone that he was still upright and had at least some ability to walk.
“With a case this complex, we need to discuss options.” Cynthia took on a solemn expression. “Quality of life becomes a consideration.”
“Not giving up on him,” Carson answered before I could.
“I don’t want to either,” I agreed. If Linus had lived through the initial stroke, I wanted to give him a chance to make a recovery. I also wasn’t going to have any quality-of-life discussions without reviewing the information with Kat. Carson’s attachment to the horse aside, Linus was the ranch’s property, and they would need to have a say as well. My job at the moment was to collect as much information as possible, so I leaned forward in my chair. “Talk to us about rehab options.”
“It’ll be quite the investment of time and energy, whether here or at the ranch,” Cynthia warned. I knew full well how tricky rehabbing even basic horse injuries could be, but I made a go-on gesture before she continued, “And it might not yield the desired results.”
“I’m in.” Again, Carson was quick to answer before me. “Tell me what to do.”
“I’ll be sure and tell Kat that you want to take point on his rehab.” Softening my gaze in his direction, I tried for a gentle reminder that the ranch had final say. As much as I admired Carson’s commitment to Linus, my heart already ached with the possibility of an outcome he wouldn’t like.
However, I also wanted to hear all of Cynthia’s recommendations, so I took careful notes as she reviewed options for both in-hospital care, like hydrotherapy, as well as physical therapy exercises Carson and others could try on the ranch. As we neared the appointment time to discuss RC’s condition, Cynthia offered to take Carson for a demonstration of some of the treatments she’d mentioned, so I ended up going alone to the review of RC’s pathology report.
Which was fine. Absolutely fine. No need to stress over seeing Scott again. Naturally, no matter how much I told myself this, my brain stayed on red alert for conflict.
Dr. Song ran the meeting, and she was a consummate professional as she went over options. We brought Kat in on speakerphone, so she could weigh in on whether to have the mass removed or to continue to watch it. Because Carson and I were due to leave the next morning, scheduling was an additional consideration. If RC had surgery, he likely wouldn’t be in any shape for transport tomorrow, and I couldn’t guarantee when I’d next be in the Denver area.
Luckily, however, Dr. Song presented the option of doing the surgery on Monday and having RC transported back to the ranch the following week. The field team at the equine hospital had some appointments around Durango and was willing to transport RC after he had time to recover.