A week in the life
That whole Iowa/PA trip journal isn't coming very well, and I have other things to say!
Last week was the quintessential mixed animal practice week.
Saturday a week and a half ago: I pulled a puppy from the birth canal of a Boston terrier. Then I went out (without changing out of my "small animal attire") and pulled a calf from a small Angus cross cow. I became covered in placental fluids and some blood, so I changed into coveralls in order to go back into the exam room to see how the Boston terrier was coming along.
I pulled one more puppy after giving an oxytocin injection, and then spent significant time trying to get the third and last puppy out. The owners didn't seem to have money for a c-section at the time.
They came back that night for further attemts at extracting the fetus -- and I didn't charge them, because they had not much money and I really wanted the dog to live. I couldn't get the puppy out so I told them the dog would likely die unless we did a c-section.
And then they went home and talked it over and decided they could get money somehow. And I ended up doing a c-section on the pooch in the wee hours of Sunday morning. The dog did well and as far as I know she is continuing to do so.
Monday of last week:
LB: "We've got a cow that needs a necropsy," she said in somber tones.
"Sounds like a good thing for Dr H to do," I said, somewhat annoyed because the implication was that I should do it and I had surgeries to do in the clinic and bla, bla, bla.
I modified my emotions, and tried to say some nicer things about the cow necropsy -- like, "so, when do they need that done?" etc.
Later in the day... I had a couple surgeries left when Dr R asked "So, do you want to be the field veterinarian for the afternoon?" By this time my attitude was much improved, and part of the prospects include pulling lambs from an ewe which is definitely up my alley.
I trundled out to Camas Valley, driving through the mountains in the falling-but-not-sticking snow. It was idyllic. The sheep owner was very nice, and I pulled three live lambs from the poor ewe. She had a peripheral neuropathy affecting the right hind limb (this may resolve now that the lambs are out), and it seems the lambs weren't lining up correctly to come out. Or maybe the ewe was tired. Two lambs lived. The lamb closest to the birth canal was too stressed and succumbed in spite of mouth (my) to nose (lamb's) resuscitative efforts. Did you know placental fluid tastes salty? The front of my overalls became soaked in placental fluid in my efforts to keep the lambs alive.
I drove home, changed into clean(er) overalls, and went out to LW's place to check a downed cow and necropsy a dead cow.
I drove up to a shed near the house, and spoke to the rancher. There were two four wheelers parked by the shed, and the rancher asks me "Can you drive one of these?"
My response (never having driven such): "If you show me how."
"Is the [vet truck] an automatic?" he asked.
"No, it's a stick," I replied.
"Well, then you won't have a problem."
The 4-wheelers were automatics, and a cinch to drive. I can't say I broke any speed records, but I also didn't flip.
We drove off down the hill, through a gate and down the gravel/mud road toward the cattle. Mud was 6+ inches in placed, and the wheeler shimmied as I followed in the ruts. It was exhilarating, driving along with the frigid wind blasting against my shirt front. (Yeah, I failed to bring a coat, as usual.) We climbed a steep hill and then set off down the other side, leaving the road behind us. I was instructed in appropriate brake use to enable my safe transit.
We checked the down cow -- got some blood, did a basic physical exam -- and then went to the dead cow. She'd been dead a couple days, but I was hoping her tissues would be worth something histologically since it'd been so cold (turns out they were useless and yielded a diagnosis of "autolysis"). I flayed the cow open, readying her for the coyotes or whatever chose to consume her. I found nothing grossly wrong, but took samples. As I pondered what to do, I hummed a tune. The rancher commented on this later... he'd never heard someone humming while cutting up an odiferous, dead cow.
This rancher has put up with my lack of cattle experience on a couple of prior occasions. He had a cow with a foot abscess/infected toe bone which I worked up and treated. I glued (with epoxy) a wooden block to her healthier digit so the sore toe could rest. I had never done this, never seen it done before... and I made the mistake of trying to level the bottom of the toe with the rasp. And it took forever and ever and ever. Foot shears/hoof knives were made for a reason... Anyway, I always feared that the block fell off after a couple days and was afraid to call the guy for fear he would be disgusted with me... but as it turns out the cow got better and the block stayed on until she was walking normally on that foot. Amazing.
Well, I skipped Bible study that night since I stank of dead cow and it was late by the time I'd showered in the clinic.
Wednesday afternoon my tech SN and I drove out toward Glide to euthanize a cat. We arrived, were greeted by the caretaker, and taken out on the deck where he had left the cat minutes before. He had barricaded the stairs, and as the cat was partially paretic (or at least weak) in her hind limbs he thought she was caught. Well, we called and called and looked in the house and looked outside and she was nowhere to be seen for some minutes. It's not often you go to accomplish something and are thwarted.
Eventually, the cat came walking up... with bird feathers and blood on her mouth. Bird hunting the hour before death. In case you're wondering, yes she was ill -- hyperthyroid, very thin -- and would likely have started suffering soon.
Wednesday evening I went on a kidding goat call (yeah, no kidding). This doe's rectum was prolapsing numerous inches, and her vagina was attempting to prolapse as well. I discovered a completely undilated cervix, and prescribed a c-section. They brought the goat to the clinic and after getting all my stuff together I sedated the goat, gave her a good dose of ketamine, tied her legs forward and back, prepped for surgery, and cut. It went well enough, but would have gone better if I hadn't decided to pull the placentas out due to the closed cervix. Placentas that don't want to come don't want to come. And I could have saved myself considerable grief and the goat a certain amount of blood loss if I'd left the suckers alone. Live and learn.
I bolused the goat 650 ml of IV fluids prior to getting her up. Last I heard she's doing well. The c-section ended around 11 pm, and I didn't leave till 1:30 am or so.
Thursday I went on a cow call up in the hills east of Roseburg. The drive was scenic, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I drove out Cavitt Creek and arrived at a ranch on top of a hill. Prolapsed vagina with prolapsing rectum. This rancher had never seen one of these cases.
As it turned out the bladder had prolapsed along with the vagina, so once I expressed the urine the prolapse was quite small and easily reduced. I did a purse string of Buhner tape and the guy called the butcher for the next day.
Last thing Thursday evening was to euthanize a downed horse. Third horse euthanasia performed in the last two weeks. Not fun.
I enjoyed the variety, the people, the trips to the countryside, the obstetrics, the mud, and the animals.
"These are a few of my favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad."
Last week was the quintessential mixed animal practice week.
Saturday a week and a half ago: I pulled a puppy from the birth canal of a Boston terrier. Then I went out (without changing out of my "small animal attire") and pulled a calf from a small Angus cross cow. I became covered in placental fluids and some blood, so I changed into coveralls in order to go back into the exam room to see how the Boston terrier was coming along.
I pulled one more puppy after giving an oxytocin injection, and then spent significant time trying to get the third and last puppy out. The owners didn't seem to have money for a c-section at the time.
They came back that night for further attemts at extracting the fetus -- and I didn't charge them, because they had not much money and I really wanted the dog to live. I couldn't get the puppy out so I told them the dog would likely die unless we did a c-section.
And then they went home and talked it over and decided they could get money somehow. And I ended up doing a c-section on the pooch in the wee hours of Sunday morning. The dog did well and as far as I know she is continuing to do so.
Monday of last week:
LB: "We've got a cow that needs a necropsy," she said in somber tones.
"Sounds like a good thing for Dr H to do," I said, somewhat annoyed because the implication was that I should do it and I had surgeries to do in the clinic and bla, bla, bla.
I modified my emotions, and tried to say some nicer things about the cow necropsy -- like, "so, when do they need that done?" etc.
Later in the day... I had a couple surgeries left when Dr R asked "So, do you want to be the field veterinarian for the afternoon?" By this time my attitude was much improved, and part of the prospects include pulling lambs from an ewe which is definitely up my alley.
I trundled out to Camas Valley, driving through the mountains in the falling-but-not-sticking snow. It was idyllic. The sheep owner was very nice, and I pulled three live lambs from the poor ewe. She had a peripheral neuropathy affecting the right hind limb (this may resolve now that the lambs are out), and it seems the lambs weren't lining up correctly to come out. Or maybe the ewe was tired. Two lambs lived. The lamb closest to the birth canal was too stressed and succumbed in spite of mouth (my) to nose (lamb's) resuscitative efforts. Did you know placental fluid tastes salty? The front of my overalls became soaked in placental fluid in my efforts to keep the lambs alive.
I drove home, changed into clean(er) overalls, and went out to LW's place to check a downed cow and necropsy a dead cow.
I drove up to a shed near the house, and spoke to the rancher. There were two four wheelers parked by the shed, and the rancher asks me "Can you drive one of these?"
My response (never having driven such): "If you show me how."
"Is the [vet truck] an automatic?" he asked.
"No, it's a stick," I replied.
"Well, then you won't have a problem."
The 4-wheelers were automatics, and a cinch to drive. I can't say I broke any speed records, but I also didn't flip.
We drove off down the hill, through a gate and down the gravel/mud road toward the cattle. Mud was 6+ inches in placed, and the wheeler shimmied as I followed in the ruts. It was exhilarating, driving along with the frigid wind blasting against my shirt front. (Yeah, I failed to bring a coat, as usual.) We climbed a steep hill and then set off down the other side, leaving the road behind us. I was instructed in appropriate brake use to enable my safe transit.
We checked the down cow -- got some blood, did a basic physical exam -- and then went to the dead cow. She'd been dead a couple days, but I was hoping her tissues would be worth something histologically since it'd been so cold (turns out they were useless and yielded a diagnosis of "autolysis"). I flayed the cow open, readying her for the coyotes or whatever chose to consume her. I found nothing grossly wrong, but took samples. As I pondered what to do, I hummed a tune. The rancher commented on this later... he'd never heard someone humming while cutting up an odiferous, dead cow.
This rancher has put up with my lack of cattle experience on a couple of prior occasions. He had a cow with a foot abscess/infected toe bone which I worked up and treated. I glued (with epoxy) a wooden block to her healthier digit so the sore toe could rest. I had never done this, never seen it done before... and I made the mistake of trying to level the bottom of the toe with the rasp. And it took forever and ever and ever. Foot shears/hoof knives were made for a reason... Anyway, I always feared that the block fell off after a couple days and was afraid to call the guy for fear he would be disgusted with me... but as it turns out the cow got better and the block stayed on until she was walking normally on that foot. Amazing.
Well, I skipped Bible study that night since I stank of dead cow and it was late by the time I'd showered in the clinic.
Wednesday afternoon my tech SN and I drove out toward Glide to euthanize a cat. We arrived, were greeted by the caretaker, and taken out on the deck where he had left the cat minutes before. He had barricaded the stairs, and as the cat was partially paretic (or at least weak) in her hind limbs he thought she was caught. Well, we called and called and looked in the house and looked outside and she was nowhere to be seen for some minutes. It's not often you go to accomplish something and are thwarted.
Eventually, the cat came walking up... with bird feathers and blood on her mouth. Bird hunting the hour before death. In case you're wondering, yes she was ill -- hyperthyroid, very thin -- and would likely have started suffering soon.
Wednesday evening I went on a kidding goat call (yeah, no kidding). This doe's rectum was prolapsing numerous inches, and her vagina was attempting to prolapse as well. I discovered a completely undilated cervix, and prescribed a c-section. They brought the goat to the clinic and after getting all my stuff together I sedated the goat, gave her a good dose of ketamine, tied her legs forward and back, prepped for surgery, and cut. It went well enough, but would have gone better if I hadn't decided to pull the placentas out due to the closed cervix. Placentas that don't want to come don't want to come. And I could have saved myself considerable grief and the goat a certain amount of blood loss if I'd left the suckers alone. Live and learn.
I bolused the goat 650 ml of IV fluids prior to getting her up. Last I heard she's doing well. The c-section ended around 11 pm, and I didn't leave till 1:30 am or so.
Thursday I went on a cow call up in the hills east of Roseburg. The drive was scenic, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I drove out Cavitt Creek and arrived at a ranch on top of a hill. Prolapsed vagina with prolapsing rectum. This rancher had never seen one of these cases.
As it turned out the bladder had prolapsed along with the vagina, so once I expressed the urine the prolapse was quite small and easily reduced. I did a purse string of Buhner tape and the guy called the butcher for the next day.
Last thing Thursday evening was to euthanize a downed horse. Third horse euthanasia performed in the last two weeks. Not fun.
I enjoyed the variety, the people, the trips to the countryside, the obstetrics, the mud, and the animals.
"These are a few of my favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad."
posted by Claire at 18:39
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