This is the whole story as of May 28, 2024, so buckle up. I have shared a good amount of this on social media, so forgive any redundancy, I don’t expect anyone commits my stories to memory or reads every word I write.
At the beginning of October, I found my unicorn. After a summer of horse shopping in a world where everything was at least 400% of my budget and still not perfect, I gingerly floated the idea of going to see a rescue horse with my trainer, Ampara Visser. Her unwavering response, “It only costs us a trip to Charlottesville.” So off we went. Birdie was perfect in every. single. way. Before Ampara dismounted, she said, “If you don’t buy her, I will.” I don’t think there’s a better vote of confidence in a horse than that. My beloved husband, who had been, shall we say, hesitant about horse ownership, agreed that I couldn’t have found a better price tag and that she sounded like what I’d been looking for all along. I finally felt like he was on board, dare say, maybe even excited.
Birdie was rescued from a kill pen by Colby’s Crew Rescue. We know for sure she was bred by the Amish somewhere in Pennsylvania. She’s registered with the American Dutch Harness Horse Association of America out of a recorded mare and by a registered KWPN stallion. She had a filly in March 2022. We strongly suspect that she was a cart horse; that she has had some physical trauma in her life, which left some “jewelry” on her body; and has known real hunger based on the way she eats. It’s hard to imagine this horse was emotionally abused or handled roughly, as she is sweet, unbothered, and totally in control of her emotions.
We tried her on Sunday, on Monday, October 9, I feverishly signed paperwork, sent money, called vets, organized transportation, and was giddy like a school kid. She was coming home the following Sunday; it was finally happening, I was a horse owner. She was being fostered by Dr. Carly, one of Colby’s Crew’s fantastic vets. Dr. C texted and said she was working on an abscess and they were keeping an eye on it. By Friday, I got the call that the abscess wasn’t an abscess at all. Dr. C’s sixth sense told her to take an x-ray and it was a broken coffin bone. Super bummer. The prognosis was good, though. Dr. C said many horses come out the other side of coffin bone injuries able to resume their working careers. Colby’s Crew gave me every opportunity to exit stage left; they would void the contract and return my money. They also have a “no questions asked” return policy. I believed in her, my Internet research concurred with what Dr. Carly was telling me. I was in it for Birdie.
Colby’s Crew’s policy is that they don’t release horses for adoption who are injured and, man, did they stand by that policy in a big way. They sent her to Veterinary Rehabilitation Services of Virginia to rehab for five and a half months. Birdie got great care and became a barn favorite. Meanwhile, my life was turning upside down.
The end of August is when I have marked the start of my persistent cough. I coughed and coughed and coughed. Then school started and the boys started to bring home the school germs. At the end of September, I had the worst cold. It’s the sickest I’d felt in a long time. I had already been through a Z-pack earlier in the month and, here I was, back in bed, sick as a dog. I had a telehealth appointment with my primary care doctor who told me that if I didn’t feel better in 48 hours to go get a chest x-ray to make sure I didn’t have pneumonia. The next morning I got the kids off to school, climbed back in bed, and coughed for 40 minutes. I coughed so hard I couldn’t catch my breath, it really spooked me. I called Robert and he took me to the ER. Once we were there, I felt so silly. I wasn’t sick enough to be in the ER….I thought. The chest x-ray revealed normal lungs except for a small nodule in my left lung. I was assured these were common, but I should get a CT to ensure it was normal. My brother, an emergency department doctor, agreed they were common, but I was a little young and it was a little big.
I waited a month to get the CT because it seemed like no big deal. I opened the CT report on Monday morning as Robert and I were getting ready to go pick up the boys to head to Halloween at the White House. “Findings suspicious for neoplasm (primary lung cancer, carcinoid)”…life was never going to be the same. I called Mom and cried, but I put on my brave face and off we went.
On November 3rd, I had a bronchoscopy at Inova done by Dr. Bobby Mahajan. He found cancer in my left lung and a fungal infection in my right lung. The fungal infection was a minimally invasive aspergilloma. The bronchoscopy results put me at Stage 1a lung cancer. We were all devastated. As the tests on the tumor came in, our hopes that it was a carcinoid, a minimally aggressive cancer, were dashed. It seemed like bad news after bad news after bad news.
On December 6th, I had a lobectomy. Dr. Weyant took out 40% of my left lung including the tumor and seventeen lymph nodes. Inova Schar Cancer Institute is the best of the best, let me tell you, not that I’m biased. I spent three days in the hospital. I was induced and had a 10 pound baby without drugs – that was easier than lung surgery. The way my body processes pain and the spasticity from the MS complicated my recovery. Robert and my mom took the best care of me as I went through hell. The slightly-bigger-than 3 cm tumor was resected with clean margins, but with three of the lymph nodes were malignant. One of those lymph nodes was on the mediastinum (main lung “tree”), which bumped it to stage 3a non-small cell lung cancer. The change in stages was a huge blow to our mentality and outlook. Ooof. If this is new news to you, I know that’s a lot. Believe me, it felt like a lot as it was happening.
Chemotherapy was scheduled to start in January. Despite my best efforts to make Google show me some glimmer of hope, the reality was that the five year survival rate for lung cancer, even in someone my age, was less than 50%. Ross and Kyle were 6 and 8. I incessantly did the math in my head, was there really a 50/50 chance I’d be gone before they were 11 and 13? Who was going to teach them to drive? What would they wear to prom? Who would dance with them for the mother-son dance at their weddings? What memories did I HAVE TO make for them in that time? And Robert? My 3 am thoughts ranged from who is going to remember all the passwords and make the grocery list to will he find someone else to take care of him? It was terrifying. It still is. The demon question that haunts me is, “Do I have enough fight in me?” After all, my multiple sclerosis is still ever present. And then there was the aspergilloma.
While I was going through procedures, testing, surgery, fear, and hell, to be honest, I had this beautiful horse living at VRSVA; Birdie was my solace. We had this tragically beautiful symmetry going on. The world seemed right and bright when I could make my brain think about her instead of the dismal realities. I could dream about building a bond and learning each other. Dreaming wildly about how fantastic she and I were going to be. We would qualify for Nationals. Wintering in Ocala at Lisa’s beautiful farm. Dabbling in international shows in Wellington. Nothing out of possibility, but so far from the reality I was in. Even when apart, she was helping me fight, helping me heal. I fought to get better so when she was ready to come home, I was ready to be there for her.
On December 28th, I got the news that my cancer had an ALK gene mutation. Dr. Amin Benyounes, my oncologist and hero, called me at 8:00 on Saturday night; that’s how good this news was! ALK-positive patients make up 4-5% of those with non-small cell lung cancer and 90% of those patients are diagnosed at stage 4 when the disease becomes metastatic, commonly spreading to the liver and brain. But I am stage 3, which means no metastatic disease and my tumor was completely resected. Dr. Beyounes was now talking about an “intent to cure,” he believed (believes!) we’re going to cure my cancer. Cure. My. Cancer.
He put me on a new drug, Alecensa (alectinib), that has unprecedented disease-free survival rate. It has some bummer side effects: fatigue, leg swelling, muscle weakness (which, ironically, helps the spasticity from my MS), and crazy photosensitivity (like wear gloves while I drive sensitivity). It works by interrupting the ALK cells’ ability to replicate, which I think is genius. I started that January 11 and it’s at least a two year treatment, assuming all the little stinkers stay off a CT and we can presume them dead. The bonuses are that it is a daily oral drug and the outcomes are not improved with chemotherapy – no chemo!
My aspergilloma was treated with an antifungal called Posaconazole. It’s a whopping drug with a host of side effects. The worst one for me included the take-you-out-at-the-knees fatigue. Fortunately, that one was only a 90-day course that I finished on April 23. All the drugs upset my stomach, but we figured that out day-by-day. Because I can’t be on immunosuppressant drugs anymore, we’re treating the MS with IVIG, which I get infused at home. Let me tell you, being able to do infusions at home with my cat and my own bed is amazing. Can you believe this all started with a cough? Could it really be that aspergilloma saved my life? My mom thinks so; it’s not that far-fetched.
Before my surgery, I had been driving to Gordonsville once a week to visit Birdie. After surgery, my dad drove me down every week. He became one of her biggest fans and watched as she got better and better. She’s an absolute doll. I could not have wished for a better brain or a more beautiful creature. I can do absolutely everything with her from my scooter. We have developed a bond and communication akin to what I had with Robin. I would never have imagined how intuitive this mare would become.
Towards the end of her rehab, we investigated her right stifle and left neck because she looked uncomfortable in those spots after such a long period of stall rest. Both areas had squeaky clean x-rays with equally good radiology reports. Both Dr. Johnson, of VRSVA, and Dr. Kramer, of Keswick Equine, guessed that maybe she needed some more turnout and strengthening; they gave us the go-ahead to bring her home. I asked Dr. Johnson point blank if I should keep pursuing this horse or if I should cut and run, she said I should stick with her, Birdie was a good bet.
Life was returning to “normal;” managing these three diseases. It’s all a pain in the ass, but I could do it. Robert often says to me when I’m choking down my 15+ pills at breakfast or bedtime, “Thanks for working so hard to stay alive.” No problem, love. We brought Birdie home from rehab on March 8, we thought we were finally on the home stretch. After all, I’m due for a break, right? She and I had established a bond, perhaps more around her getting treats and being told she’s a queen for standing still, but a bond nonetheless. After a few weeks, I just felt something wasn’t right. This was a different work ethic than the mare we saw in October. She was on-and-off sound with the politest threatening-to-explode moments you’ve ever seen.
Dr. Jay Joyce scoped her belly and discovered grade 4 squamous and pyloric ulcers; big, ugly, dark ulcers. He couldn’t believe she was in such good weight, dappled, and otherwise happy with the way her insides looked. As fast as I could get the drugs, she started on a 30-day course of omeprazole, sucralfate, misoprostol, and doxycycline. Due to the severity of her gastric disease, we’re planning to do a second month of the full protocol because it would be a miracle to get these ulcers resolved with just a 30-day course of treatment. I hope to scope her again after that.
Dr. Chad Davis, an equine sports medicine vet, saw her to help us formulate a plan to get her sound and back into work. He spent hours with us. He took multi-view x-rays of her coffin bone. We talked history, diet, the effects of her gastric health on injury healing, farrier needs, supplements, and future goals. He assured me that he would tell me if this was a lost cause; over and over he said not to give up on her. While he gushed about what a lovely mare she is and his optimism for her future, the caveat is that she needs more care for this fracture than she has yet received or for what I had planned.
He wants to get a standing CT of her coffin bone. The CT would give surgeons more information on the injury and guide the best course of treatment. The fracture goes up to the joint between P3 (coffin bone) and P2. The fracture itself has widened slightly since the injury, which is expected. Two surgeons have looked at the x-rays. One is inclined toward placing a screw surgically, the other says that option has passed, but believed joint care would be a suitable treatment plan. Both need a CT to make a definitive decision. The surgery itself is relatively simple, a small window in the hoof, a screw or two through the coffin bone, and voila! The Internet tells me a three-to-four-month healing process and she would have a much sturdier coffin bone to live the rest of her life on. Alternatively, joint injections protect and heal the coffin bone. There are many options on the market and careful consideration will be made if that ends up being the path we take. A sturdier coffin bone means less arthritis, fewer chances for unsoundness, and a longer working life.
I believe it’s important to trust the professionals that you pay. I’ve had FIVE veterinarians tell me Birdie is worth it to keep treating the coffin bone injury and that she should be able to do what I want to do with her. I have a trainer who tells me every time she sits on her how cool she is, how well suited to the job I’m asking of her. Birdie’s helped me get through a cancer diagnosis and the start of treatment. She’s my physical therapy when I’m on the ground grooming and tacking or when I’m on her back. She takes care of my mental health like no one else can. It’s only the right thing to do to do everything I can to take care of her. Plus, time is of the essence when you have a cancer diagnosis AND multiple sclerosis. I can’t imagine how long I’d have to wait to find another horse like Birdie.
Birdie has proven remarkable in every aspect except the inevitability that the path with horses is never linear. I’m feeling brave to share the details of Birdie’s injury and the details of my diagnoses. It’s unusual to share so publicly, but I believe it’s important that we share the days in the trenches between the days of triumph. I find writing my story therapeutic. I hope my positivity inspires others to live the same way. In thinking through all of this, I discovered I do have enough fight, I even have enough left over to fight for her.
The second reason I share all of this is because I’m fundraising to get Birdie all the care she needs. I think it’s important to share every detail if I’m going to ask you to open your wallet to help me. Below you’ll find the breakdown of costs as I know them today. She’s minimally insured due to the fact that she’s a rescue, so none of this care is covered. Healing her ulcers and getting the CT are the primary orders of business. She will have a hard time healing her foot while she’s busy healing her belly. We won’t know future steps until the surgeons see the CT images. Dr. Davis said the surgery is about $5k, so that’s the number I’m keeping in mind as I do this fundraising. If you feel compelled to help a deserving horse or me, you can donate via any of the platforms below, I’m happy to send my mailing address too. Thank you, village, if you could cheer for Birdie the way you’ve cheered for me, we’ll have fight left over to spare.
Step 1: Finish her 30-days of gastric care, this is paid for. This is over June1.
Step 2: 30 more days of gastric protocol $1330
Step 3: Standing CT at Piedmont Equine Vet $1100 + sedation and rescope ulcers $500 + sedation = ~$1800
Step 5 (contingent): Coffin bone repair surgery. ~$5000 Will need to gather quotes after CT is done OR series of joint injections to be determined after we see the state of the coffin bone on CT
Total: $8,130
Venmo: @Veronica-Gogan
Paypal: @veronicagogan
Zelle: veronica.gogan@me.com
Text or email me for my mailing address: 703-915-7022 veronica.gogan@me.com
May 31st update: $2,660 raised. Incredible, absolutely incredible!!! Thank you to everyone who has contributed.
Veronica Gogan 