Horses, Hope, and Healing with Dr. Tim Casey
Written by Beth Rasin | Photos by Gracie Savage
When Maurice “Tim” and Diane Casey were dating, they would drive from Clifton, Virginia, to wander the winding roads of Loudoun and Fauquier counties while dreaming about a life in horse country. Tim never imagined he would go on to not only live in the heart of this community, but become one of its most respected equine veterinarians.
For more than three decades, the Caseys built that dream, raising three children on their Marshall farm while Dr. Casey treated countless horses.
“I’ve been a vet for 40 years and in Marshall for 31 or 32 years, and I can’t believe it’s been that long,” he says. “It’s flown by. It’s like looking at a horse that I bred, and it’s suddenly 17 years old.”
Casey started his career as a farrier for nine years before attending veterinary school. “I can’t remember when I didn’t want to become a veterinarian,” he shares, recalling how he used to collect and treat injured turtles as a child. “Before I even knew there were veterinarians, I’ve just wanted to work on animals all my life.”
He did just that until March 2024, when a 10-day case of hiccups prevented him from sleeping. He went to Fairfax Hospital, expecting to get a quick treatment, and was instead admitted. Soon after, he collapsed, paralyzed. He would eventually be diagnosed with neuromyelitis optica (NMO), an autoimmune disease that attacks the spinal cord and optic nerves. The diagnosis changed his life, but it couldn’t touch his lifelong optimism.
Driven and Determined
As a child, Casey was drawn to riding, stubbornly continuing with the sport despite once falling off 33 lessons in a row (and later getting a more suitable mount). He’s shown the same determination as he battles NMO.
“When any person has anything like this occur to them, they’re lying if they say they don’t think about suicide,” he admits. “You think your whole life is gone. At some point,” he continues, “you decide you want to live.”
For Casey, that time came when he was in the hospital, being prepared for a shower. “They went to move me from one thing to another and almost dropped me,” he recalls. “My heart went into my throat and I said, ‘OK, I want to live.’ I just look at it as a bump in the road, and I’m thankful to be alive and still enjoy life every day and am glad that I wake up, especially because I can go ride.”
That riding takes place at Sprout Therapeutic in Aldie, where he once treated horses like Thor, the Percheron-Welsh cross he now rides.
“Judy Collins does this great rendition of ‘Both Sides Now,’ and that’s what I feel like at Sprout,” he shares. “I used to be their vet, and then when they first heard about me being injured, when I first got out of the hospital into rehab, they brought a miniature horse to me. I was so ecstatic.”
Sprout encouraged Casey to ride at its facility and sponsored his lessons. Operations Director Anna Koopman has been amazed by his progress.
“He’s really super determined to get back to his regular life again, and that’s the best thing he has going for him, is his drive to get back to normal, to be able to go home,” Koopman says. “The change in him from when we first saw him to now is really, really huge. He could barely lift his hands, and now he has full capability in his hands.”
When Casey began working with Sprout in February, he started with driving. “We’d go around a corner to the left, and Anna would be sitting next to me and grab me and pull me back in,” he says with a laugh. “I was Mr. Gumby to start with.”
The progress continued when two months ago, he was told he’d regained significant trunk control and it was time to get on a horse. “They have a lift that picks me up and puts me on the horse’s back on a bareback pad, with a vaulting thing to hold on to,” he explains. “Off we went. It’s just an amazing therapy place, with all the equipment to help.”
He notes that even when he feels he’s had the occasional bad day, the therapists will tell him they see improvement in his core strength or balance. “I asked if I could trot next. I said if I don’t fall, I’m not progressing.”
He also looks forward to trips from The Villa at Suffield Meadows in Warrenton, where he’s currently living, to Charles Town, West Virginia, on Saturdays to see the mares and foals he’s bred. “I love doing that,” he adds. “It all puts life in perspective and makes you appreciate every day. It gives you time to go out and look at the beauty of the world we live in.”
New Directions
Casey treasures meeting people who’ve helped him on his path through rehab. “Some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met in the journey of my life,” is how he describes them. “People I’d have never met, would never have understood what they go through. At skilled nursing, where they have people with strokes, if I was having a pity day, I’d look at the stroke victims and say, ‘How lucky am I?’ You don’t have a choice. This is your life, and you might as well enjoy it and be happy for it.”
After his diagnosis, his son encouraged him to read “The Dark Tower” by Stephen King, in which the main character continuously talks about his younger days. “[The character] would say, ‘But the world has moved on.’ So that’s what I’d say to myself when I couldn’t do something: ‘The world has moved on, and I’m in a different world now,’” he says.
Casey believes his new situation has simply required him to adopt a different approach to life. “There’s nobody for me to be mad at,” he explains. “I don’t have a choice but to be happy, and that’s what I want to be.
“There’s never a ‘no,’” he adds. “There’s always a plan B, C, and D. Just keep going to those plans and a door is going to open. You just may have to come from a different direction.”
He expressed gratitude for the horse community’s support, including an ongoing GoFundMe that helps to offset his medical bills. “It’s an amazing community, and they take care of each other.”
As he reflects on his life, Casey knows he’s one of those lucky people who loved his work as a veterinarian and his life among the equestrian community. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve had 74 years of the greatest life anyone could dream of. It’s been so absolutely wonderful.” ML
Published in the September 2025 issue of Middleburg Life.