Another operation

When the UBF was a yearling or so, one of his molars went rotten. I am guessing he lived in a large herd of foals who were left to grow once they had been weaned from their mothers. I am sure it took a while before anyone noticed he was in pain, that something was wrong. A dentist was called who removed the rotten molar but still he did not get better. He felt depressed and very sore, he was isolated from his friends and everyday the grooms would try to help by flushing the wound and giving him painkillers in his diet.

The infection had actually rotted his jaw and the pieces of bone needed removing. This is when he came to live with me instead of being shipped to France for burgers.

I had been warned that the operation may not work. The vet had told me of the risks and that she may need to operate a number of times to get all the infected bone removed. Two of the three exit holes in his jaw had closed and healed well - but one was still full of pus.

Poor UBF. Sedation. Screwdrivers back into the hole. Tiny bit of bone removed. Flushing. Flushing. Antibiotics. Pain relief. Sore tummy. Smelly poo. Swollen face. More worry.

After the sedation had worn off I led him to his paddock and promised I would do everything to help him. 

He disregarded me - and continued to eat his hay despite what he had just been through.