The Autopsy of a Horseman

Brandy Greenwell with one of her heart horses, Graceland Pride.

The Autopsy of a Horseman

Horse people are a special breed.  Whether you ride for sport, pleasure, or not at all, if you are a horseman, your life is centered on a magnificent, 1000-plus pound animal that, by nature, sees you as a predator.  Bonding with horses is a relationship unlike any other that will leave an imprint on your soul forever, and sometimes your body as well. When you eventually end up with the tag on your toe, hopefully not from a horse related incident, what will your autopsy say about you as a horseman?

Starting with your toes, most of them are fused from being stepped on numerous times over the years.  There are no records of your breaks because, of course, you would just secure it to its neighbor with vet wrap instead of seeing a doctor.  On occasion, your vet was consulted.

Your legs might be slightly bowed from all the time in the tack and your knees have multiple scars from repairing torn menisci. You have zero joint fluid left because you always cared for your equine friend’s joints before your own and both were not in your budget.

Your hips have been replaced and your pelvis is completely uneven because for one reason or another you have ridden with one stirrup longer than the other for most of your life.

If you are male, your poor boys had a relationship with the pommel that was not unlike Tyson vs Holyfield. If you are female, you could have cracked a walnut down there from riding a hole longer to get your horse to engage from behind.

You may or may not have your whole spleen, your liver is shot because, generally, horse people like to drink a lot, and your lungs could be compromised from either smoking or standing next to the chimney trainer outside the schooling ring for all those years.

Spine- serpentine like with a fused vertebra or two.  Ribs- so compromised that not even forensics can tell what happened.

Your collarbones, shoulders, and elbows are like a Jenga puzzle.  There is at least one bone sticking out where it shouldn’t be, and if you tried to correct it, your whole joint would crumble.

Hands.  Your hands are huge with giant knuckles and sand paper like skin.  The fingers that do bend, do so in different directions. You could never really flatten your hand to give a high five upon victory because your muscle memory pulled you into a fist from years of riding with contact, braiding or clutching a curry.  Horse people invented the fist bump for this reason.

Your face is weathered with sunspots and wrinkles from years of taking care of your friends in extreme heat or cold, without a day off since you first met.  Wrinkles, no, they are lines of joy and your bright smile will be frozen for eternity like the very first time you swung a leg over to feel the gentle breath of the wonder beneath you.

Lastly, your heart is enormous and could still beat otherwise because it was so strong and steeped in unconditional love from your horse.  “God forbid that I should go to any heaven in which there are no horses.” R.B Cunninghame-Graham