Well, I’m a libertarian, so don’t tend to be a big one on rules, or being told what I have to do.
Nearly two years ago, I took a fall off my young horse while going for just a quick hack. He spooked, bolted, pulley rein, rear, and me with a concussion to the forehead (his poll) and the back of my head (landing on dirt road). Nope, I wasn’t wearing a helmet at the time, and had been pretty blase about it until that day.
I had no idea what happened. I didn’t know what year it was. My husband, who was riding with me and bailed off, has a genetic skin condition which makes it painful for him to walk, and I remember watching him RUN toward the house (to get the truck to take me to the E.R.) in bemused, head foggy fascination. I’ve not seen him run before or since. My wedding ring, which had gotten tangled in the buckle of the reins, was twisted like a pretzel, still on my finger.
My horses got “stuck” hanging out in a field, tacked, while my husband rushed me to the hospital. None of our neighbors were home to help us out, so they stayed there until my husband was reassured that I wasn’t going to die and sped back to retrieve them.
I was embarrassed to tell the ER physician that I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I was confused and “slow” for days. The headaches were indescribable. When I slept, it was more like a coma than regular sleep. I didn’t get jokes (and no one loves a good joke better than me). For months, literally, I would have to hold on to things as I got out of bed after laying down for any period of time.
I gave a lot of thought to what “might have” happened and how close I was to having been killed, or permanently brain damaged (tho some friends may argue that on some days . . . ). What kind of pain would that have caused my family? My husband? My critters? My colleagues and friends? How would my husband have managed financially? What kind of tribute would someone have written on a BB, in my dressage newsletter, at my funeral? Ugh, just thinking about it makes me cringe.
And now I’m wearing my helmet, obviously. My husband, stunningly, does not. He wears it at endurance rides where the sanctioning organization mandates it, but otherwise doesn’t take it off the hook in the barn.
Now here is a man I married knowing he didn’t wear a helmet. But I’ve changed. And I worry about him terribly.
I’ve tried all the arguments. None have worked. I’ve even cried, which I hate to do.
Taking suggestions, by the way. Perhaps someone has a way of putting this to him that hasn’t occurred to me.
Make your choices, but live with the consequences.
–Patti