Small benefits
spotted the clinic sign and the gravel driveway. I backed up to a tall sliding door and jumped out to open the back of the van. Instantly, a flock of veterinary angels fluttered around my little orange baby, murmuring soft directions to each other---“Grab that corner of the blanket and I’ll support his legs.…”---while crooning endearments to calm him. They gently lifted him onto a tarp and brought him inside.
The team worked quickly. They took Phoenix’s temperature, listened to his heart and lungs, and examined his gums and eyelids. Gentle hands prodded and probed him from head to tail, assessing the extent of the damage Mercury had done. “It’s a good thing he’s not skinny,” I heard one say. “He’s going to need everything he has to pull through.”
Finally, Kelly Fleming, DVM, DACVIM, the lead veterinarian, turned toward me. “It looks like your stallion grabbed Phoenix by his neck and shook him,” she said, pointing out a very swollen section on both sides of his mane, about halfway down Phoenix’s neck. Attacks like this are common among wild stallions, who use this brutal method to kill foals who are not theirs, ensuring their own genetic dominance in a herd.
The shaking, Fleming explained, had caused Phoenix’s brain to slam back and forth in his skull, leading to trauma and rapid swelling, which in turn caused his neurological problems and seizures. “It’s very much like the shaken baby syndrome that newborns get from being battered by adults,” she said. The area around Phoenix’s orbital sockets was also grossly swollen, which made his head appear twice as large as normal.
As with traumatic brain injuries in people, it was impossible to predict just how much damage had been done and how lasting it might be. The only recourse was to offer supportive care until the swelling in the brain diminished, and then assess his ability to function.
For the moment, though, Phoenix was stable. Fleming had given him Valium, a sedative, to halt the seizures; DMSO and Mannitol, an anti-edema drug, to reduce swelling in his brain; as well as Banamine and intravenous fluids. Now, he was resting quietly on a twin-size mattress in a giant stall.
Fleming told me the chances of Phoenix recovering were about 50/50. He would need intensive care for several days to allow the swelling in his brain to go down. The good news was that many of the challenges of treating traumatic brain injuries in full-size horses wouldn’t be an issue for Phoenix. Large, heavy horses who are recumbent need to be rolled regularly or hoisted in slings to prevent devastating pressure injuries to their muscles. Due to his
The shaking had caused Phoenix’s brain to slam back and forth in his skull, leading to trauma and rapid swelling.
small size, Phoenix could safely remain down for hours or even days at a time. If he did need to be moved, Phoenix could be easily rolled and repositioned by the veterinary technicians.
Plus, if Phoenix attempted to stand on his own, he wouldn’t be nearly as dangerous staggering about as a full-size neurologically compromised horse would be. The veterinary team, who would monitor him around the clock, could easily protect Phoenix and themselves whenever he did try to stand, assuming he recovered enough to do so.
The situation was still touch-and-go, but no one was ready to give up. “We’re going to think positive,” Fleming said. “I have high hopes for this little guy.”