Unexpected costs of the PhD: Part 1

Whenever my barn friends call me, they begin with, “Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong with Sassy”, then move on to the topic of the phone call. When I call them, I do the same. “Don’t worry, _____ is fine.” We all know that little knot of fear in our stomachs that comes when we see the name of a barn acquaintance come across our cell phone—especially if the call is from someone we don’t know well, someone unlikely to call just to chat.

Friday evening, the barn manager called. She did not begin with the usual “don’t worry, nothing’s wrong.” No, Sassy was colicky. Of all the words associated with horses, two fill me with dread: colic and founder. There are plenty of other things that can go wrong with a horse, but most of them are either not immediately life-threatening, or are unusual enough I don’t really expect them to happen. For example, I know West Nile fever is bad, but there is a vaccine for it, and I’ve never personally known anyone who’s lost a horse to it. But everyone knows a horse who has died from colic or become crippled from founder.

I jumped in the truck (in case I needed to hitch up the trailer for an emergency vet trip) and rushed to the barn. My girl was in the hot walker, calmly walking in circles. Her afternoon feed was untouched, telling me something was indeed wrong, though she was not in immediate distress. After a phone consultation with the on-call vet, I sent hubby on a medicine-fetching mission, and began a long evening of watch-and-wait.

While I was waiting, I prayed my thanks for this beautiful creature I’d been given. I also prayed, not for the first time, that she would be granted a long span of years, so that we would have time to enjoy each other after grad school was over. I’m afraid the best years of Sassy’s life have been spent waiting for me to finish grad school. Sassy is by far the most athletic horse I’ve ever sat on. She is amazingly sensitive—reacting to the tiniest changes in body language. Of course, she’s also a bit of a hothead….I can’t really relax on her, because I haven’t put in the needed time desensitizing her. She really could have been an incredible horse, at reining or dressage or whatever I would have decided to do with her. She still is an amazing horse, but she will never reach her potential because all my time and mental energy has been spent either working on my dissertation or hiding from it.

Fortunately, Friday’s colic episode turned out to be minor. She apparently walked off whatever tummy-ache she had. I am very grateful to barn workers Antonio and Armando, who noticed something was wrong, put her on the walker, and told the barn manager. I am grateful to all my barn friends who offered to help if I needed anything, and checked on her the next day. I am grateful to my friend Linda, who left me her jacket…I would have been freezing without it. I am grateful it occurred on a Friday, when I was reachable and could come. I don’t know what I would have done if it had been a class night.

When I began this doctoral journey, I didn’t think through all the consequences. I certainly didn’t think of its impact on my horse life. If I’d thought of it, would I have done anything different? I don’t know. Maybe I would have been more motivated to finish in a reasonable amount of time. Or maybe, the long slow journey is the only possible route for someone with my particular combination of strengths, weaknesses, and character flaws. I’m sure I’m learning lessons that an efficient and focused graduate student would have missed.