Oh The Joys Of Sarcoids!

You may remember me mentioning before that Steve, my Welsh D x Thoroughbred, was introduced to the family to give Danny, our foal, some much needed company. Danny came to us and spent his first few weeks with Jack and Rambo, neither of whom entertained his desire to play. Me being the wet blanket that I am took pity on the orange foal with no playmates and of course, bought another horse. I told my husband, “he’s only temporary” and carried on this pretence for the next year. It wasn’t until Steve was nearing two years old that I finally emerged from my blanket of denial and admitted to my husband what he’d known all along; Steve wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve was bought from the Dali Stud in Wales and what a gorgeous boy they bred. He’s nothing short of stunning; so well put together and just an all round lovely guy to be with. He loves cuddles and most importantly, he loves to play with Danny. Together they’ve formed one of the most unbreakable bonds out there and it’s beautiful to see.

Although beautiful, Steve isn’t the sharpest tool in the box and boys being boys, he likes to get himself into scrapes. The worst by far being two weeks after I gave birth. Laid up at home, recovering from a C-section, I receive the call from my better half telling me he’s hopping lame and has blood on his leg. After guiding my husband over Face Time with immediate first aid (good old technology) and a vet visit, we were faced with two weeks box rest and a nice tidy bill as I was reduced to half pay. As I said, impeccable timing. With a puncture wound down to the bone and the risk of infection in the bone itself, you’d think I’d be worried about that…instead my blood ran cold at the sight of two great big whacking sarcoids on his inner thighs.

How I hadn’t noticed them before is beyond me, especially as I regularly checked his ‘bits’ to make sure they were heading in the right direction before the inevitable chop! Fast forward two months and the hideous puncture wound is a mere mark on his front fore cannon but the sarcoids, are very much still there.

I check them incessantly each day, panicking that they’ve changed shape and size (they haven’t) and I worry they’ll spread and turn into the phantom stories I’ve heard over the years from the stereotypical DIY yard gossip. Thankfully the rational side of my brain keeps me in check and tells me not to worry. For the time being, there’s been no change and as the vet advises, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” so I’m doing my best to chill. The question is, what would you do?

Before the opinions come flooding in, give me two minutes to grab some wine and line up a few reruns of Cougar Town before I read the good, the bad and the ugly.

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