SADDLE THERAPY
One morning, as I lay in bed, I watched sparrows peck at the feeder
outside my window, then flap their wings and soar away. Stricken with MS, a
disease that destroys muscle control, I could barely lift my head.
I wish I could fly away with you, I thought sadly. At thirty-nine, it seemed
my joy-filled life was gone.
I've always loved the outdoors. My husband, Dan, and I had loved to
take long walks near our home in Colorado Springs. But some time in my mid-
twenties, my joints began to ache after our hikes. I thought it was just sore
muscles.
Motherhood, a dream fulfilled with the adoption of Jenny, eleven, and
Becky, thirteen, made me jubilant. But as eager as I was to be a great mom, I
would just flop on the couch after work as a recreational therapist, too tired
to help the girls with homework. I figured it was just exhausting being a
working mom.
Then one morning I tried to reach for the coffeepot & couldn't; my arm
was numb. What's happening? I thought in alarm. One doctor prescribed
a pain reliever for bursitis. Another diagnosed tendonitis.
Then one day I was out walking with my daughters when my legs buckled.
Mom, what's wrong with you, frightened Becky asked.
"I must really be tired," I joked, not wanting to upset the girls. But
now I was deeply worried. At Dan's urging, I saw a neurologist.
"You have multiple sclerosis", he told me. All I could think of was a
slogan I once heard, "MS-crippler of young adults" Please no! I anguished.
Blinking back tears I asked," How bad will it get?"
"We can't say for sure," he said gently. "But in time, you may need a
wheelchair."
Though Dan tried to console me, that night I lay sleepless. How will I
care for myself and my family?
That fearful question echoed in my mind over the next weeks and months.
As time passed, I could walk only by using a painful process of locking a knee
and forcing the stiff leg forward with my hip muscle. Then
at other times, my legs grew numb, refusing to respond at all. I steadily
lost control of my hands, until I could barely make my fingers work.
"It's ok, Mom, we can help," the girls would say. And they did.
But I wanted to be caring for them. Instead, I could barely get dressed
and wash a few dishes in the morning before collapsing, exhausted, into bed.
The morning when I lay watching the birds, wishing I, too, could fly
away, my heart felt heavy. Hope was dying in me.
Then I saw Dan come in, his eyes alight. "Honey", Dan said, "I heard
something amazing on the radio." A nearby stable was offering something called
therapeutic horseback riding. The technique reportedly helped with many
ailments, including MS. "I think you should give it a try", he said.
Riding as therapy? It sounded impossible. Still, as a child, in Iowa,
I
loved to ride. And even if it just gets me out of bed, it'd be worth it.
"I'm gonna fall on my face," I joked a few days later, as Dan helped
me struggle on canes to the stables. I needed help getting on the horse, but
as I gripped the reins and began circling the riding arena, my body
relaxed.
"This is great", I exulted. When my ride was over, I told Dan I couldn't
wait to try again. Each time I rode,my hips felt looser and my shoulders
became more relaxed. I knew something was happening. At home, I didn't feel
hopeless anymore. I wasn't tired all the time, I realized happily.
One afternoon, I told the riding-center volunteers I would like to ride
bareback, the way I had as a child. As I galloped across the pasture, the
wind tossing my hair, I thought, For the first time in years, I feel free!
Then, as Dan helped me off the horse, something seemed different.
"I can feel my legs again," I gasped to Dan. Dan watched, amazed, as I
picked up my leg, then easily and smoothly placed it down again.
It had taken me thirty minutes with two canes to reach the stables from
my car. But the return walk took less than three minutes-and Dan carried the
canes! "You did it!" he cheered. Tears of joy welled in my eyes.
Soon after, my daughters came home from college for a visit. I walked
over and hugged them.
"Mom, look at you!" Becky cried. With an overflowing heart, I told them
how the horses had healed me. My doctors cannot explain why the horse therapy
works. All I know is that, somehow, it does.
Today I remain nearly symptom-free as long as I ride three times a week.
Each morning I bundle up and set off on a long, brisk walk. Breathing
in the fresh mountain air around my home, I feel a special rush of joy. I'm
so grateful God has given me back my life.