I never sleep with my phone on silent. Last night, I fell asleep before I switched it from silent to the normal medium-loud.
I woke up today to 5 missed calls and 8 text messages, all with the same message: Halo's colicing again and it is bad.
Yesterday afternoon, he has a very mild bout of colic, tubed with no reflux, got a heaping amount of fluids, and was put on monitored stall rest while we waited for poop. He pooped last night and was drinking. He pooped this morning, kept drinking, and it was looking good. Darlene, the rescue owner, went up into her house to do some work before checking on him in the afternoon.
Within an hour of her going inside, Donkeyote started freaking out. He was running the fence, bodyslamming the gate, bodyslamming the doors, and screaming his little heart out. Donkey is very attached to Halo, but has seemed to take Halo's stalling okay. Darlene went out to the barn to see what would quiet Donk down, and that's when she saw Halo down. He was soaked in sweat, and barely moving. They pulled him up and he tried to throw himself down again - he wasn't thrashing, but he was collapsing.
I flew out the door and flew to the barn, hitting 65 mph on a local road behind an ambulance that was possibly saving more than a stranger's life. By the time I got to the barn, Dr. D was tubing Halo and he was producing a ton of reflux. Five people were holding him up - he was shaking, and he was dead weight. Dr. D pumped him full of fluids and got 5+ gallons of reflux out of him through multiple tubings, and decided he needed to go to MidAtlantic.
After a dozen frantic phone calls trying to find a shipper, Darlene desperately asked Bekka and I to run to the farm across the street to ask her neighbor if she could ship. Bekka and I sprinted - I lost my flip flops on the way - and rang the doorbell of a house across the street with a trailer and a small barn. A man answered, agreed to our out-of-breath pleas for help, and hooked up his trailer while Bekka ran back to clear the driveway and get Halo ready.
(Here's one miracle on the case: The man, Tom, doesn't even know Darlene. We ran to the wrong house. Regardless, he has his trailer on the road within ten minutes of us knocking on his door, and he was happy to ship the poor colt up to the clinic.)
Neither Bekka nor I thought Halo would make it up to the clinic. I was almost positive he'd go down in the trailer, but he unloaded like a pro and looked around as if he weren't sick. "Hey guys! That was fun. Where are we now?"
The fluids seemed to help a lot, and after ultrasounding him, stitching a catheter to his neck, and giving him some banamine, he was moved to a stall. The ultrasound showed distended small intestines and some weird growth/blockage/mass above the intestines.
We watched him for several hours while we waited for a ride - Tom has long since been sent home by us. Jason eventually picked us up around 7.
When we left, Halo had been upped to a higher pain killer and sedated a bit, but he was still restless. He wasn't trying to lay down or roll, but he was pacing.
It's pretty much up to him at this point - he's very much at a time where it could either all go downhill or he could recover.
If he gets worse... well, he's not a great candidate for an already risky surgery... sigh.
Keep him in your thoughts and prayers.