Before I start, an apology for taking so long to update my blog. As I wrote last we made a pretty big move and now I am working in Canada. It has been quite a change in many ways, but now that I am a little more settled I will try to record some of my new interesting experiences.
Disclaimer: If you are in any way prone to a weak stomach this story is not for you... read at your own risk.
A few weeks ago I was told that a guy was bringing in a cat for a euthanasia in the afternoon. As a veterinarian this can be one of the more challenging aspects of our work. It is generally an emotional event where the range is somewhere in the surprised, upset, sad, really sad, heartbreaking, and then the occasional relief and feel better to be able to end prolonged suffering. This particular euthanasia was for me a brand new emotional experience...and it was not good.
The owners arrived with the cat laying prostrate on a blanket and I surmised immediately that this was a particularly bad situation. The cat was so emaciated that it appeared to be a skeleton covered with hair. The face of the cat looked something like this. The nose was completely crusted over with some type of bodily fluid. Both eyes were stuck shut and the left eye was draining what could only be described as a small river of pus. As a result of the dried nasal discharge/dried pus from the eyes the the cat was gasping for each breath.
The back half of the cat was a different color from the front as it was completely covered with dried, caked on feces. The cat was so weak it could hardly lift its head with each gasp so I immediately took the cat from the owner and went in the back to put the poor thing out of its extreme suffering.
Normally we sedate the cat first before attempting to do an intravenous injection of euthanasia solution, but this cat was so weak and so dehydrated that we decided to just go directly for the intra-cardiac injection. I grabbed one of the other doctors and asked for his assistance to inject while I held the cat. For a normal restraint to perform the injection you hold the scruff of the neck in one hand (just like a mama cat would) and with the other hand you hold the back legs of the cat so that it can't reach up to dig its claws in.
When I closed my grip on the neck I felt my fingers sink right through the skin! I jumped back and sat down against the wall because I was so grossed out. The other vet thought that the cat had bit me. I said "No, look at the neck" He finished the injection to complete the euthanasia as the cat was too weak to even respond then reached up to investigate the neck. Once again he thought wrong as he had assumed I had pulled out a big chunk of hair. He started to pull on the hair and pulled off a piece of skin about three inches long! That was the closest I have come to vomiting for a veterinary related reason.
Needless to say as soon as I had calmed down for a minute I went and had an interview with the two owners to ascertain that there were no other animals in their appalling "care". The most disgusting thing was that their excuse for not taking care of the animal...including bringing it in for euthanasia earlier was a lack of money. Normally I am very respectful and sensitive to financial constraints on treatment of veterinary patients but this disgusting neglect could have been prevented for the cost of lunch for two at most restaurants.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, December 25, 2009
Moving on
I don't remember the exact saying but the gist of it is that one thing in life stays the same; everything changes. For myself and my family that is true as well. There are some big changes coming in my professional life. I am going back to where I grew up and going into practice ownership. This means that I will be leaving behind the North Dakota that I have come to love.
It is going to be a bittersweet change for us. In many ways it will be exciting to move back near family and old friends. At the same time it will be sad to leave behind the many wonderful people that have been clients, friends, and even our family away from home. We will cherish the memories made here.
I am sure I will continue to have many exciting, interesting, sad, and funny experiences in my new practice and, of course, I will continue to write them down from time to time.
For any of the North Dakota friends we have made, you are welcome any time you want to come to Canada to visit.
You will be missed.
It is going to be a bittersweet change for us. In many ways it will be exciting to move back near family and old friends. At the same time it will be sad to leave behind the many wonderful people that have been clients, friends, and even our family away from home. We will cherish the memories made here.
I am sure I will continue to have many exciting, interesting, sad, and funny experiences in my new practice and, of course, I will continue to write them down from time to time.
For any of the North Dakota friends we have made, you are welcome any time you want to come to Canada to visit.
You will be missed.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Studs
Of all horses that I deal with I would have to say that stallions come with the most baggage. I think this stems from many things. First of all they are ruled by testosterone; probably more so than any male of another species that I deal with on a regular basis. Rearing, striking, kicking, biting, fighting, aggressiveness, and all kind of unpredictable behavior around other horses, as well as people would be all in a days work for the average stallion. Also, they are amazing athletes. Power and agility combine in a body that can weigh well over a thousand pounds performing the previously mentioned antics. Add to that the financial aspect of them generally being the most valuable animal in the herd and every interaction with a stallion becomes exciting. I have two stallion stories that occurred during approximately parallel time periods with similar conditions.
The first stallion came to me with this written on the book "old cut on leg". We will call this stallion Bob since that is a very masculine name. Bob was not your typical stallion in that he was not led off the trailer on a halter. He was let out of the trailer and then put into the cattle handling facilities for his tranquilizers. Then he was released to lay down and take a nap so that I could examine the wound. Bob was a very successful rodeo horse...not the kind that the cowboys ride, but the kind that they get bucked off. Bob had gotten in a fight with another stallion about 10 days prior. The problem was that there was a fence in between them and he got his leg stuck through the rails of the fence and was torn up pretty bad.
Once he was sleeping peacefully my first thought was, "This doesn't look good". But, as has happened more than once in my career as a veterinarian I was wrong. My second thought was, "This looks awful". After exploring the wound more closely my third thought was "This horse is going to be euthanized". The reason for such a bright outlook was the fact that the wounds went down to the bone and the pastern joint was sub-luxated (2/3 of the way dislocated) and open to the clean fresh air. The clean fresh air was a joke. The wound was very dirty and infected and any infection in joints in horses is very, very bad. Time is your worst enemy and this horse was 10 days past a good chance. That is how I met Bob.
Fred will be the made up name of stallion number two. Opposite of Bob he was a very well trained and well mannered stallion, highly valued by his owners to produce similar well mannered foals, carrying his good bloodlines and performance ability. Unknown to us was the initiating cause for his run in with the fence. Unfortunately for him he picked a windbreak fence made of corrugated tin to kick his back leg through. Sharp metal edges and a horse's leg doesn't require much imagination. He had three large lacerations over the fetlock joint, cannon bone, and the hock. If you thought he got lucky and the cut were superficial not involving any of the joints...you thought wrong. Both the fetlock and hock were open and draining joint fluid. If you didn't get the memo before, joint infections in horses are bad to the point of being career and sometimes life ending.
Both owners decided to treat the stallions as best as they could. After consultation with surgical specialists for Bob the recommendation was made to see if we could get the infection to clear up, then reevaluate to see if surgery was even an option. The plan for Fred was to try and keep an infection from starting to see if we could save the function of the limb enough for breeding purposes.
After several weeks of antibiotics both stallions were checked again and you will never guess...they both looked awful. Not hardly improved. Radiographs of Bob showed severe arthritis and the limb was still huge and infected. Fred had one ray of hope in that the bacteria that had infected his joints were for a lack of a better term "wimpy" and susceptible to almost all antibiotics. Unfortunately he was still severely lame, barely touching his toe on the ground and both joints still draining fluid.
Let pass another couple of months on antibiotics and finally some progress was made. Both stallions were improving. Starting to use the leg some and wounds actually looking like they were healing. Go another two months down the road and both owners report marked improvements although Bob's leg is still quite swollen and Fred is just starting to really put weight on the leg.
Neither owner held out great hopes for breeding season but turned the stallions out with a pasture of mares and waited on luck or fate or whatever you believe in.
At the end of the summer, Bob's owner reported that the leg is still swollen (arthritis caused the joint to be about three times the size as normal) and slightly lame but that he bred the few mares that he was with just fine.
Fred's owner was much more concerned. Checking him all throughout the summer he said that he was moving around the pasture just fine, but that he never saw him breed a single mare. Fred's owner had me come out at the end of the season to ultrasound all of the mares including the nine that were Fred's responsibility. All I can say is that someone must be living right because every single mare was pregnant and Fred looked great.
These two horses illustrate one of the main reasons why I like fixing animals and hate trying to fix my car. Animals, regardless of what we try and do to them and for them can sometimes do amazing things to fix themselves. My car does not ever fix itself.
The first stallion came to me with this written on the book "old cut on leg". We will call this stallion Bob since that is a very masculine name. Bob was not your typical stallion in that he was not led off the trailer on a halter. He was let out of the trailer and then put into the cattle handling facilities for his tranquilizers. Then he was released to lay down and take a nap so that I could examine the wound. Bob was a very successful rodeo horse...not the kind that the cowboys ride, but the kind that they get bucked off. Bob had gotten in a fight with another stallion about 10 days prior. The problem was that there was a fence in between them and he got his leg stuck through the rails of the fence and was torn up pretty bad.
Once he was sleeping peacefully my first thought was, "This doesn't look good". But, as has happened more than once in my career as a veterinarian I was wrong. My second thought was, "This looks awful". After exploring the wound more closely my third thought was "This horse is going to be euthanized". The reason for such a bright outlook was the fact that the wounds went down to the bone and the pastern joint was sub-luxated (2/3 of the way dislocated) and open to the clean fresh air. The clean fresh air was a joke. The wound was very dirty and infected and any infection in joints in horses is very, very bad. Time is your worst enemy and this horse was 10 days past a good chance. That is how I met Bob.
Fred will be the made up name of stallion number two. Opposite of Bob he was a very well trained and well mannered stallion, highly valued by his owners to produce similar well mannered foals, carrying his good bloodlines and performance ability. Unknown to us was the initiating cause for his run in with the fence. Unfortunately for him he picked a windbreak fence made of corrugated tin to kick his back leg through. Sharp metal edges and a horse's leg doesn't require much imagination. He had three large lacerations over the fetlock joint, cannon bone, and the hock. If you thought he got lucky and the cut were superficial not involving any of the joints...you thought wrong. Both the fetlock and hock were open and draining joint fluid. If you didn't get the memo before, joint infections in horses are bad to the point of being career and sometimes life ending.
Both owners decided to treat the stallions as best as they could. After consultation with surgical specialists for Bob the recommendation was made to see if we could get the infection to clear up, then reevaluate to see if surgery was even an option. The plan for Fred was to try and keep an infection from starting to see if we could save the function of the limb enough for breeding purposes.
After several weeks of antibiotics both stallions were checked again and you will never guess...they both looked awful. Not hardly improved. Radiographs of Bob showed severe arthritis and the limb was still huge and infected. Fred had one ray of hope in that the bacteria that had infected his joints were for a lack of a better term "wimpy" and susceptible to almost all antibiotics. Unfortunately he was still severely lame, barely touching his toe on the ground and both joints still draining fluid.
Let pass another couple of months on antibiotics and finally some progress was made. Both stallions were improving. Starting to use the leg some and wounds actually looking like they were healing. Go another two months down the road and both owners report marked improvements although Bob's leg is still quite swollen and Fred is just starting to really put weight on the leg.
Neither owner held out great hopes for breeding season but turned the stallions out with a pasture of mares and waited on luck or fate or whatever you believe in.
At the end of the summer, Bob's owner reported that the leg is still swollen (arthritis caused the joint to be about three times the size as normal) and slightly lame but that he bred the few mares that he was with just fine.
Fred's owner was much more concerned. Checking him all throughout the summer he said that he was moving around the pasture just fine, but that he never saw him breed a single mare. Fred's owner had me come out at the end of the season to ultrasound all of the mares including the nine that were Fred's responsibility. All I can say is that someone must be living right because every single mare was pregnant and Fred looked great.
These two horses illustrate one of the main reasons why I like fixing animals and hate trying to fix my car. Animals, regardless of what we try and do to them and for them can sometimes do amazing things to fix themselves. My car does not ever fix itself.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Sometimes people make me wonder
Today was a funny people day. As a veterinarian I hear this a lot, "Oh it must be nice working with animals, and not have to worry about working with people." I think they forget that the animals don't drive themselves to the clinic. There is usually some form of human attached to each animal that comes in. So here are my two funny people things today.
First, people need to learn to count. I went out to a farm to pregnancy check 200 cows according to the schedule in the book. I know that this was written down correctly because I was the one who made the appointment and I remember particularly the farmer saying about 200 head. Well, as we were working I came to the conclusion that I was either a particular wimp today or just really tired, or really slow, or a combination of all three because my arm and shoulder sure felt like they had done over 200 head and it was definitely past lunch time. When we were finished with the cows one son said,
"Do you want to do the bred heifers or the prolapse next?"
I was thinking to myself 'Bred heifers? You mean we haven't even done 200 yet? I really am a wimp.'
Well we did get done, eventually, and as I was leaving I asked the farmer what the head count was.
He replied, "350 head." !!!
Second funny people story. This was not my case but I was at the clinic and got asked for a second opinion. A llama came in for an ultrasound to see if she was pregnant. The doctor came to get my opinion on the case. As we were walking back to the chute he filled me in on the story. The owner had purchased the llama recently at a sale barn. He was told it was a female and just wanted to know if it was pregnant or not. The doctor wanted to know if I also thought it was a male. A very quick exam of anatomy revealed that I was in agreement with the other doctor and he was trying to ultrasound a neutered male llama. My first thought was, "Don't the people at the sale barn look to see if it is a male or female?" Then come to find out this llama was brought into the ring by the owner with "her" baby at her side. Either the owner was really clueless or really shady. With people you just never know.
First, people need to learn to count. I went out to a farm to pregnancy check 200 cows according to the schedule in the book. I know that this was written down correctly because I was the one who made the appointment and I remember particularly the farmer saying about 200 head. Well, as we were working I came to the conclusion that I was either a particular wimp today or just really tired, or really slow, or a combination of all three because my arm and shoulder sure felt like they had done over 200 head and it was definitely past lunch time. When we were finished with the cows one son said,
"Do you want to do the bred heifers or the prolapse next?"
I was thinking to myself 'Bred heifers? You mean we haven't even done 200 yet? I really am a wimp.'
Well we did get done, eventually, and as I was leaving I asked the farmer what the head count was.
He replied, "350 head." !!!
Second funny people story. This was not my case but I was at the clinic and got asked for a second opinion. A llama came in for an ultrasound to see if she was pregnant. The doctor came to get my opinion on the case. As we were walking back to the chute he filled me in on the story. The owner had purchased the llama recently at a sale barn. He was told it was a female and just wanted to know if it was pregnant or not. The doctor wanted to know if I also thought it was a male. A very quick exam of anatomy revealed that I was in agreement with the other doctor and he was trying to ultrasound a neutered male llama. My first thought was, "Don't the people at the sale barn look to see if it is a male or female?" Then come to find out this llama was brought into the ring by the owner with "her" baby at her side. Either the owner was really clueless or really shady. With people you just never know.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Top Ten
If it is not number one then this day has to be close. Number one worst day ever, that is. It started out with food poisoning trips to the bathroom from 2 am to 7 am, but I won't go into details. After laying on the couch for a couple of hours without further problem I decided to go into work. Since no one else at work wanted to be locked in the same room with me I was sent out to "look" at some lame cows. After being told that they were all in the corral I wondered aloud why they were not bringing them in. "Because it isn't convenient for them and they won't do anything that is inconvenient for them." Great. Just to understand my displeasure a little I will describe the options.
Option One:
Bring the cows in and look at them at the clinic. We have a hydraulic chute that we can tip each cow up on her side with straps that go around each foot so that they are unable to kick and we have easy, clear access to all four feet to perform whatever type of foot work the cow is in need of. I think it is a wonderful invention that is safe, easy, and allows for the optimal result from a medical standpoint.
Option Two:
We regularly look at lame cows on the farm when they are out on pasture (often many miles from the home place) and the owner is unable to get them in to bring them down to the clinic to work in the wonderful hydraulic chute. In the case of the pasture cows we tranquilize them with the dart gun and work on their feet while they are heavily sedated and laying down. Although not as good as the clinic, this is still a generally effective diagnostic and treatment system.
Option Three:
Look at the cow on the farm in their working facilities. In other words, standing in whatever kind of chute they have, tying up the leg in question and trying to get a decent look with the cow kicking and fighting the whole time.
Yes, I was going into option three with a group of five lame cows. The first cow was brought into the chute and the hired man put a rope around her hind leg and tied it up to the side of the chute lifted about 18 inches off the ground. After repeated kicking convinced her that her foot was there to stay she stood quietly and I began my exam. Reaching down I began to move the toes to have a better look and suddenly a sharp blow sent me reeling. I rolled backwards out of the chute area, laying on the ground with my hands over my face trying not to black out.
"Do you need an ambulance? Do you need an ambulance? Go call the ambulance. Are you knocked out? Are you okay? Wow, you are really bleeding. Do you need an ambulance?"
"No, don't call an ambulance yet. Let me just lay here for a minute."
With my brain in slow motion I figured out what had happened. The cow had kicked me in the head (I still don't know how she was able to get enough slack in the rope and reach high enough) my head had bounced off the back end of the chute palp cage and then I rolled back out of the way. I had a small gash in the bottom of my eyebrow about a quarter inch from the side of my eye that had half of my face covered in blood and a large goose egg on the opposite side of my head where I had bounced off the chute. My brain did not take long to ask itself, "Why did I ever come into work today?"
Some warm water, surgical soap, bandages, and several Ibuprofen later I was ready to take charge of the situation. Each cow came into the chute for her IV injection of Xylazine and then she was released into the pen to let the tranquilizer take effect. I wasn't about to get kicked in the head again and I wasn't concerned about the added expense to the farmer for sedation of all the animals. Not surprisingly I didn't hear one word of complaint out of the farmer either. Two hours later, after lots of sweating and unpleasant words being thrown in the general direction of the two more stubborn cows, our project was complete.
The best words I heard as I was getting ready to leave the farm were, "Next time we will bring them down to the clinic."
Option One:
Bring the cows in and look at them at the clinic. We have a hydraulic chute that we can tip each cow up on her side with straps that go around each foot so that they are unable to kick and we have easy, clear access to all four feet to perform whatever type of foot work the cow is in need of. I think it is a wonderful invention that is safe, easy, and allows for the optimal result from a medical standpoint.
Option Two:
We regularly look at lame cows on the farm when they are out on pasture (often many miles from the home place) and the owner is unable to get them in to bring them down to the clinic to work in the wonderful hydraulic chute. In the case of the pasture cows we tranquilize them with the dart gun and work on their feet while they are heavily sedated and laying down. Although not as good as the clinic, this is still a generally effective diagnostic and treatment system.
Option Three:
Look at the cow on the farm in their working facilities. In other words, standing in whatever kind of chute they have, tying up the leg in question and trying to get a decent look with the cow kicking and fighting the whole time.
Yes, I was going into option three with a group of five lame cows. The first cow was brought into the chute and the hired man put a rope around her hind leg and tied it up to the side of the chute lifted about 18 inches off the ground. After repeated kicking convinced her that her foot was there to stay she stood quietly and I began my exam. Reaching down I began to move the toes to have a better look and suddenly a sharp blow sent me reeling. I rolled backwards out of the chute area, laying on the ground with my hands over my face trying not to black out.
"Do you need an ambulance? Do you need an ambulance? Go call the ambulance. Are you knocked out? Are you okay? Wow, you are really bleeding. Do you need an ambulance?"
"No, don't call an ambulance yet. Let me just lay here for a minute."
With my brain in slow motion I figured out what had happened. The cow had kicked me in the head (I still don't know how she was able to get enough slack in the rope and reach high enough) my head had bounced off the back end of the chute palp cage and then I rolled back out of the way. I had a small gash in the bottom of my eyebrow about a quarter inch from the side of my eye that had half of my face covered in blood and a large goose egg on the opposite side of my head where I had bounced off the chute. My brain did not take long to ask itself, "Why did I ever come into work today?"
Some warm water, surgical soap, bandages, and several Ibuprofen later I was ready to take charge of the situation. Each cow came into the chute for her IV injection of Xylazine and then she was released into the pen to let the tranquilizer take effect. I wasn't about to get kicked in the head again and I wasn't concerned about the added expense to the farmer for sedation of all the animals. Not surprisingly I didn't hear one word of complaint out of the farmer either. Two hours later, after lots of sweating and unpleasant words being thrown in the general direction of the two more stubborn cows, our project was complete.
The best words I heard as I was getting ready to leave the farm were, "Next time we will bring them down to the clinic."
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Not always Rabies
Living in North Dakota brings with it some unique experiences. One thing very common here that I haven't had to deal with anywhere else is Rabies. It is a big problem and we have several cases a year. I know you are all having flashbacks to Old Yeller right now. We actually see cases very commonly in cattle as well as dogs, cats, horses and really most of the species we deal with. We rarely see a foaming at the mouth animal that is trying to bite someone. Generally ours are just acting funny or walk funny or can't stand up. Rabies is endemic in both skunks and raccoons in the state so we have a doubly great chance of contracting rabies.
Since it is so common we have many clients that have animals acting unusual and almost always the first question out of their mouth is, "Could it be Rabies?". Not surprisingly our very diplomatic answer is generally, "It could...and there are some other things we should think about". A case this week was one of these.
A cow presented with history of drooling with her tongue hanging out and acting a little funny. As she walked off the trailer I was pretty sure that it wasn't rabies. The tongue was hanging out and she was drooling but she also had a big lump on the side of her cheek and was very thin. My immediate thought was that this cow had broken her jaw. Another doctor was right there with me and began examining her mouth and immediately piped up with, "well you guessed wrong". One quick look in her mouth showed that a broken bone was the problem, but it wasn't hers...she had half of the pelvis of a calf jammed sideways in her mouth and was completely unable to close her jaw or move her tongue. Of course we took it out, gave her antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory and sent her on her way.
Just goes to show you that your first guess, and all too often your second guess isn't always right. That and not every cow that "foams at the mouth" has rabies.
Since it is so common we have many clients that have animals acting unusual and almost always the first question out of their mouth is, "Could it be Rabies?". Not surprisingly our very diplomatic answer is generally, "It could...and there are some other things we should think about". A case this week was one of these.
A cow presented with history of drooling with her tongue hanging out and acting a little funny. As she walked off the trailer I was pretty sure that it wasn't rabies. The tongue was hanging out and she was drooling but she also had a big lump on the side of her cheek and was very thin. My immediate thought was that this cow had broken her jaw. Another doctor was right there with me and began examining her mouth and immediately piped up with, "well you guessed wrong". One quick look in her mouth showed that a broken bone was the problem, but it wasn't hers...she had half of the pelvis of a calf jammed sideways in her mouth and was completely unable to close her jaw or move her tongue. Of course we took it out, gave her antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory and sent her on her way.
Just goes to show you that your first guess, and all too often your second guess isn't always right. That and not every cow that "foams at the mouth" has rabies.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I wish not
Most of the time I love my job as a mixed animal veterinarian. There are very few times that I look at what is going to be coming in and have an unpleasant intrinsic reaction. One thing that can really make me want to run and hide or pretend that I am doing something really important so that another doctor will have to take that appointment is as simple as three little letters: DRC. Now anyone involved with the medical world knows that there are acronyms for all kind of medical things. In fact I read a medical record that went something like this.
Patient BAR, MM pink, moist CRT< 2 sec, EEN clean clear, H/L/T aus WNL. Abdominal/LN palp WNL. HR 110 BPM, Resp 28 BPM, Temp 100.6 F, EDUD WNL
I think you get the picture
Anyway back to the DRC. If any of you get squeamish you might want to stop now. DRC means Dead Rotten Calving.
These are particularly popular this time of year because most of the cattle are out on the pasture and not checked as often as usual. Some of these cows may have been calving for a couple of days before they are found. Combine that with hot summer weather and you have the perfect recipe for a rotten calving experience.
On this particular day I decided to take one for the team and tackle the DRC. Sometimes they really aren't that bad, but the fact that I could smell the cow while she was still outside did not bode well. The apologetic owner (as they almost always are with this kind of thing; one even brought me doughnuts as a peace offering) said that he didn't know how long she had been calving. She was out in a pasture that doesn't get checked often and they even thought that she was open (not pregnant) and that was why she was in that pasture.
I was delighted to smell two legs that appeared to be front legs hanging out the back out of my patient. The fact that 1/2 of the hair had already sloughed off the legs was a pretty fair sign that she had been at it for more than a couple of hours. Once I started manipulating and pulling on the feet the half rotten skin tore open on one leg revealing the bones beneath. Fortunately I already had my gag reflex under control and I was in for the long haul. As the long bone was only succeeding in tearing my plastic sleeves we decided to pull it off. I know that sounds gruesome but guess what - Junior died three days ago and he can't feel that we just pulled off his femur.
Yes, I did say femur. The legs only looked like front legs because they had decomposed sufficiently to allow all the bones in the joints to separate and bend any way that they wanted.
Without further ado, a lot of lube, some careful manipulation, and about 40 minutes we were able to remove the remainder of the partially decomposed calf.
Now many of you would say, "serves you right for being a large animal vet!" And to be honest, when confronted with such cases I have had similar thoughts. Why didn't I go into small animal where everything is easy?
Well wouldn't you know the next day I had another experience. The schedule book said dog whelping. Hey that sounds like fun.
First, I will say as a veterinarian I try not to judge people and how they are with their animals. While I will not jump on the band wagon that many veterinarians do about the evils of breeding dogs when there are so many in shelters etc etc (you can feel that way if you want to) I do occasionally run into a person that I say should absolutely not be breeding dogs. This was just such a case. Because of that there will be no reference whatsoever to owner age, gender, identity or breed. I will simply say that she was a larger breed dog.
The conversation went something like this.
Owner comes in and says, "I am not sure what is wrong with her, I think she might be having a problem.
She had one puppy without any trouble but now I don't know what is going on.
My turn,
"How long ago did she have the first puppy"
Owner
"Well, I guess it was the night before last so about a day and a half ago"
Me
stunned silence.
Thoughts whirling though my head: you have got to be kidding me, your dog had a puppy almost two days ago and she has a large piece of placenta hanging out the back of her vulva and you think there MIGHT be a problem?
Don't say anything rude, even though you are thinking it right now.
On vaginal exam of the dog I could feel just the tips of two feet. Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good enough hold and the feet weren't out quite far enough so we gave her some oxytocin and some time to get her back into labor.
Half an our later I was able to get a good hold on two back feet and wouldn't you know - the hair just sloughed right off in my hands. The dead puppy was backwards and dry and was not wanting to come out. Thankfully with a lot of lube and manipulation and way longer than I have ever had to work on another puppy the very dead, nasty puppy came out. Yes, small animal vets do get their occasional nastiness too.
Radiographs showed no more puppies, which sparked two very choice remarks from owner;
"Dang it there are no more puppies?!?"
"When we breed her again will she have any problems?"
I wish not to have these experiences again...both the nasty part and the choice owner...but I am young and will probably have even better!
Patient BAR, MM pink, moist CRT< 2 sec, EEN clean clear, H/L/T aus WNL. Abdominal/LN palp WNL. HR 110 BPM, Resp 28 BPM, Temp 100.6 F, EDUD WNL
I think you get the picture
Anyway back to the DRC. If any of you get squeamish you might want to stop now. DRC means Dead Rotten Calving.
These are particularly popular this time of year because most of the cattle are out on the pasture and not checked as often as usual. Some of these cows may have been calving for a couple of days before they are found. Combine that with hot summer weather and you have the perfect recipe for a rotten calving experience.
On this particular day I decided to take one for the team and tackle the DRC. Sometimes they really aren't that bad, but the fact that I could smell the cow while she was still outside did not bode well. The apologetic owner (as they almost always are with this kind of thing; one even brought me doughnuts as a peace offering) said that he didn't know how long she had been calving. She was out in a pasture that doesn't get checked often and they even thought that she was open (not pregnant) and that was why she was in that pasture.
I was delighted to smell two legs that appeared to be front legs hanging out the back out of my patient. The fact that 1/2 of the hair had already sloughed off the legs was a pretty fair sign that she had been at it for more than a couple of hours. Once I started manipulating and pulling on the feet the half rotten skin tore open on one leg revealing the bones beneath. Fortunately I already had my gag reflex under control and I was in for the long haul. As the long bone was only succeeding in tearing my plastic sleeves we decided to pull it off. I know that sounds gruesome but guess what - Junior died three days ago and he can't feel that we just pulled off his femur.
Yes, I did say femur. The legs only looked like front legs because they had decomposed sufficiently to allow all the bones in the joints to separate and bend any way that they wanted.
Without further ado, a lot of lube, some careful manipulation, and about 40 minutes we were able to remove the remainder of the partially decomposed calf.
Now many of you would say, "serves you right for being a large animal vet!" And to be honest, when confronted with such cases I have had similar thoughts. Why didn't I go into small animal where everything is easy?
Well wouldn't you know the next day I had another experience. The schedule book said dog whelping. Hey that sounds like fun.
First, I will say as a veterinarian I try not to judge people and how they are with their animals. While I will not jump on the band wagon that many veterinarians do about the evils of breeding dogs when there are so many in shelters etc etc (you can feel that way if you want to) I do occasionally run into a person that I say should absolutely not be breeding dogs. This was just such a case. Because of that there will be no reference whatsoever to owner age, gender, identity or breed. I will simply say that she was a larger breed dog.
The conversation went something like this.
Owner comes in and says, "I am not sure what is wrong with her, I think she might be having a problem.
She had one puppy without any trouble but now I don't know what is going on.
My turn,
"How long ago did she have the first puppy"
Owner
"Well, I guess it was the night before last so about a day and a half ago"
Me
stunned silence.
Thoughts whirling though my head: you have got to be kidding me, your dog had a puppy almost two days ago and she has a large piece of placenta hanging out the back of her vulva and you think there MIGHT be a problem?
Don't say anything rude, even though you are thinking it right now.
On vaginal exam of the dog I could feel just the tips of two feet. Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good enough hold and the feet weren't out quite far enough so we gave her some oxytocin and some time to get her back into labor.
Half an our later I was able to get a good hold on two back feet and wouldn't you know - the hair just sloughed right off in my hands. The dead puppy was backwards and dry and was not wanting to come out. Thankfully with a lot of lube and manipulation and way longer than I have ever had to work on another puppy the very dead, nasty puppy came out. Yes, small animal vets do get their occasional nastiness too.
Radiographs showed no more puppies, which sparked two very choice remarks from owner;
"Dang it there are no more puppies?!?"
"When we breed her again will she have any problems?"
I wish not to have these experiences again...both the nasty part and the choice owner...but I am young and will probably have even better!
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