tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71816956709557033602024-03-13T09:31:07.499-05:00Branchville Animal HospitalDr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-45157768700153022312013-12-19T21:06:00.000-06:002013-12-19T21:06:22.842-06:00Language Barrier<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JCWq1xdU7U4/UrHMPw3fC_I/AAAAAAAAAGA/Bu5uSvg7clo/s1600/dog-British.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JCWq1xdU7U4/UrHMPw3fC_I/AAAAAAAAAGA/Bu5uSvg7clo/s320/dog-British.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>photo courtesy of thejetsetpets.com</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“The United States and
Great Britain are two countries separated by a common language.”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i> -George
Bernard Shaw<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“We have really
everything in common with America nowadays, except, of course, language.”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i> -Oscar
Wilde<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One summer, my wife’s college internship took us to Atlanta
for a few months. I was between my first
and second years of vet school and got lucky enough to find a job in a clinic
north of the city.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was at an awkward stage- just educated enough to be
dangerous. Fortunately, the two doctors
at the practice, Dr. H and Dr. M, were very patient with me. While I was assisting with surgery or cleaning
teeth or running labwork, they put up with me picking their brains. Both of them were absolutely brilliant at
interpreting diagnostic testing (bloodwork, etc.) and took the time to explain
things to me.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wasn't the only person to benefit from their tutelage. Another veterinary student had a summer job
there as well- Her name was Barb, and she was a third year student in the U.K. As I recall it, she was from outside London,
and was going to graduate school at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She flew into the States on July 4<sup>th</sup>, which I
thought was ironic. In a rare display of
restraint, I decided not to wish her a happy Independence Day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Barb was likable and quick-witted, but I had trouble
understanding her speech. There were three reasons for this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Brits use a very different vocabulary. It’s not a bus, it’s a </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">lorry</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. He’s not an
alcoholic, he’s a </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">bumper</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. It’s not a bathroom, it’s a </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">loo</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. Several times a day, we would have to try to
figure out what the other person was trying to communicate. Common language? Hardly.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Pronunciation. Something as simple as asking for iodine
became a head-scratcher when the other person pronounced it “E-oh-deeen”. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">She had a habit of speaking </span><u style="text-indent: -0.25in;">very</u><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> quickly
when excited. When you compound this
with the other issues, hilarity and frustration ensue in equal measure.</span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We worked together pretty closely for a few weeks. We would compare what we had learned so far in
classes and our differing experiences in clinics up to this point. One day, I asked her where her education was
taking her when she returned to the U.K.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m going on holiday, and then I am bound for abattoir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went into translation mode. Holiday equals vacation. Got that one.
“Abattoir” was a different story. I took two years of French, and the
pronunciation was French…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Is that in France?” I asked the internationally-traveling vet
student.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Barb looked at me as if I was from Mars. That (as well as the
immediate snicker from Dr. M) told me that I was off base. She composed herself
and explained to me that abattoir is another term for slaughterhouse. Veterinarians in the US and U.K spend time in
slaughterhouses/abattoirs as part of the food safety training we receive. My bruised ego and I realized that we would be
scoring no points for the Red, White, and Blue that day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only real revenge I got was when she had a day off and
decided to go sightseeing in Georgia. She wanted to see Stone Mountain and find
some trails to hike. Not being familiar with the native animals, she asked the
logical question… do we have any animals she should look out for on her hike?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: “Well, we have bees, wasps, and hornets.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her: “Okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: “… and a couple of venomous spiders- the black widow and
brown recluse…”<br />
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mild concern started to appear on her face. “Right-O. I’ll
just stay away from spiders, then.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: “Oh! We also have three types of venomous snakes, with a few
subspecies.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Genuine alarm now. Her
eyebrows were rising higher with every word.<br />
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continued: “There’s the rattlesnake, copperhead, and the water
moccasin. I almost forgot- we have scorpions as well, but they’re not as bad as
the snakes. You might see a black bear if you go far enough North, too, but
that would be unusual.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know what pushed her over the edge- the snakes, the
scorpions, or the bears. The expression
on her face told me that she was seriously reconsidering her plans to see
nature in the New World.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How do you people even live here?! Everything here wants to
kill you!” she shouted. We both laughed. I thought of
it as a victory for the local creatures. In my mind, Georgia black bears were
having The Second Tea Party in Lake Lanier.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One afternoon during her final week in the States, I looked
from the back of the clinic to see Barb do a double take over something she was
seeing out the front window. Her mouth dropped open.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What’s going on, Barb?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Therearetwoyouthsontheroad, withacatinapram!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Therearetwoyouthsontheroad, withacatinapram!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn't make it out. I went up front to see what was
going on. On the 4-lane highway out front were a young man and woman pushing a
baby buggy down the roadside. From
inside the buggy, a cat’s head slowly rose up and looked around like a periscope
on a submarine. They turned into the
clinic driveway, and I watched as the cat’s head sank slowly down again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I understood. “There are two youths on the road, with a
cat in a pram.” She was trying to tell me that there were some kids on the
highway with a cat in a baby buggy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know why she didn't just use plain English.<o:p></o:p></div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-79589054322931982422013-10-23T10:07:00.001-05:002013-10-23T10:07:17.473-05:00Things you learn at funerals<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<u><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0A7LR5Txdqc/UmfjiPhB_5I/AAAAAAAAAFw/3ZCRA7p1fPE/s1600/sad+dog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0A7LR5Txdqc/UmfjiPhB_5I/AAAAAAAAAFw/3ZCRA7p1fPE/s320/sad+dog3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: xx-small;"><em>photo courtesy of probioticsmart.com</em></span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Odenville, Alabama is a small town. We get to know a lot
of people really well- we see their kids at basketball practice, we run into
them in restaurants, we know when they are sick, and we know when they pass
away. I usually attend a few funerals a year for clients that have passed on.
A few weeks ago, I attended a funeral for a man who had been a client for seven
years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In some sense, it was exactly what you would expect-
friends and family in small circles around the room, talking in quiet voices.
People were signing the guest book and sitting to watch the slide show being
projected in the front of the room in a loop. What caught my attention was the
number of pictures devoted to his little black and white dog, a constant
companion through a long illness. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The dog had come to him as a puppy in 2009. The dog’s
name is Little Man, and his personality is… complex. I won’t go into any
details other than to say that his medical record has a warning that says the following: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">WATCH OUT HE WILL EAT YOU!!!!! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the funeral, I met several fellow victims of Little
Man. One even showed me where she had still-healing bite marks on her arm. I
heard stories about him guarding the sick bed and not allowing the Hospice
nurses to get close to his owner. All of the stories I heard were delivered
with a smile, and there was a reason for that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The reason was summed up in a picture hanging in the
front of the room. When I saw it, I stared at it for a little bit and realized
how important Little Man was. The picture was taken not too long before my
client passed away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">He was sitting on the edge of his bed. Disease had
clearly taken its toll on him, the way that cancer always does in the end. In
his arms, he was holding Little Man out toward the camera. It was like he
wanted to have a picture made of just Little Man, to remember him that way. I
won’t forget that picture- it seemed to sum up everything about the
relationship that the two of them had. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t think of Little Man in the same way anymore. Not
after seeing how important he was, attitude and all, to the man who wanted him
as a companion during his remaining time here on Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-46848118470794195862013-09-25T08:32:00.000-05:002013-09-25T08:32:14.191-05:00Our Chicken Adventure
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cGgczAFnXug/UkLhWKQTCYI/AAAAAAAAAFg/M1Xb4yC5TCw/s1600/rooster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cGgczAFnXug/UkLhWKQTCYI/AAAAAAAAAFg/M1Xb4yC5TCw/s320/rooster.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Earlier this year, we wrote about the Bean family’s first
attempt at raising backyard chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are happy to say that all 13 chickens that we brought home are alive and
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are not happy to say that we
are still eggless at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our plan to have pets who lay eggs has fizzled into a plan
where we keep 13 freeloaders who eat (a lot!) and require their area to be
cleaned frequently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please don’t get us
wrong… we enjoy the chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> They can be comical and sweet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span>Brownie, the
smallest hen, sits on our shoulders and peeps at us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If offered the chance, she will fly up and
rest on an extended arm like a falcon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rhody,
the rooster, fusses for a good 5 minutes when we put him up for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seems to think he is an outdoorsman and
wants to sleep under the stars (bet that will change with the weather!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hershey, our barred bird, seems to be at the
top of the pecking order even though the white hens are a good pound
heavier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(We are afraid that Hershey may
be a rooster… it’s a little early to tell). The white hens who make up the rest of the flock all look the same. Since we can't tell them apart, we have named them all Sheila. While they seem nice enough, the only real personality trait that they display is hunger.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyhow, the chickens are alive and well… just highly
unproductive…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-71762402740283388322013-07-31T13:34:00.000-05:002013-07-31T13:34:29.338-05:00Having a Dad that's a Doctor<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>We have a guest blogger- Dr. Bean's son! He volunteered to write this blog during one of the mornings he spent at the clinic.</em></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0P-sCuwxibw/UeckuVB0RTI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/jlfE4C04A4M/s1600/rhody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" iya="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0P-sCuwxibw/UeckuVB0RTI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/jlfE4C04A4M/s320/rhody.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>Having a Dad that's a Doctor-</u></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It isn’t easy having a doctor as a dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t get to do all the things I want to do when he is on call, like play Magic the Gathering on Saturday night or go fishing Sunday afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do get to see cool animals like baby chicks, chickens, deer, cats, dogs, goats, and rabbits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And because he’s a doctor, I am going to have a little farm with the baby chicks and a full grown chicken named Rhody. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have chores to do at the clinic like opening boxes, unfolding newspapers for cages, and doing laundry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t easy, but having a doctor for a dad is exciting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-44680284661260311552013-06-26T08:54:00.000-05:002013-06-26T08:54:33.564-05:00How We Spent Our Summer Vacation
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our son is always coming up with a scheme to make money
or start a new business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He dreams of
becoming a farmer so the money-making ideas usually have an agricultural
bent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a recent trip to his
grandparents’ house and surveying their cattle herd, he decided that he really
needed to invest in a calf to raise for beef.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had grand plans for keeping this calf in our yard… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which is not large, and is in the middle of a heavily
wooded subdivision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our neighbors currently
tolerate the toys and bikes that litter our yard- a calf (and soon to be cow!)
would probably not endear us to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We want to encourage our son in his path to be a farmer
and businessman so we have reached a compromise- and embarked on a new
adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are currently building a
chicken coop to raise hens (no roosters!) in the backyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hope is that we will soon have four to
six egg-laying pets that will teach responsibility and animal care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now- this is not just any chicken coop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because we don’t want to limit the building’s
purposes or the size of our potential flock, we are building an 8’x8’ coop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will be the Taj Mahal of coops- we hope
the girls will appreciate it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJsagrG5c40/UcrwkRICXtI/AAAAAAAAAE8/TTa24A9J_7A/s1600/coop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJsagrG5c40/UcrwkRICXtI/AAAAAAAAAE8/TTa24A9J_7A/s320/coop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Providence has also intervened and brought us the first
potential member of the feathered family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This young chicken needed a new home and some healing after a run-in
with a dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a sweet girl and may
be destined for the Bean Chicken Ranch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fHrQgcmUNQY/Ucrwkc39N-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/jsneC3XihSU/s1600/hen+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fHrQgcmUNQY/Ucrwkc39N-I/AAAAAAAAAFA/jsneC3XihSU/s320/hen+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ll bring you more pictures and updates as we progress… Cross your fingers for us!</span></div>
</div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-75922113578300618662012-12-13T09:32:00.000-06:002012-12-13T09:32:01.268-06:00<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-size: large;">How to disgust clients and horrify people</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IejkITw3wQk/UMn0ISzuH2I/AAAAAAAAAEc/PaOpCLoyzqY/s1600/puppy+kisses+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img bea="true" border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IejkITw3wQk/UMn0ISzuH2I/AAAAAAAAAEc/PaOpCLoyzqY/s320/puppy+kisses+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">New puppy visits make my day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I usually get to check out a playful little creature that wants nothing more than my full attention for a few minutes. When I’m doing the physical exam, I rarely find any serious problems. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get to talk to clients in the lighthearted way I do when things are going smoothly- I can relax, because I don’t have to give anyone bad news.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">One day recently, I was doing one of those appointments. I had never met the client before, and was very conscious of the first impression I was making. The Ewok-looking puppy on the table had done its best to lick me to death and was very happy to hang out in the technician’s arms while the owner and I talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We discussed the vaccines and dewormer I had just given the new addition to the family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Oh yeah, I saw a couple of worms earlier this week. They were really long. What were they?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the client asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Uh-oh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Those were probably roundworms. They’re very common in puppies, and the dewormer that we gave will kill them. You’ll probably see more tonight, and that’s OK. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you will, please get your kids to wash their hands especially well for a few days until the dewormer has time to kill them all.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The look on her face had changed instantly from cheerfulness to concern. “Why? Can my kids get them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Well, yes they can, but deworming and good hand washing are the best ways to make sure that it doesn’t happen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not common in healthy children and people with normal immune systems, but it never hurts to be cautious.” I was trying to hard to keep the mood light. I was about to fail, and I didn’t know it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“What happens? What should I look for?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I sat down in one of the exam room chairs. I had to find a way to give necessary information to the client while not sending her into a full panic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Well, a few things can happen, but one of them is that they migrate into a child’s eyeball and cause blindness.” That statement had the effect I was afraid it would. The woman’s jaw was slightly open in an expression of disbelief. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was not what she expected to hear… her puppy, the epitome of cuteness, was harboring eyeball destroying monsters. And it slept in the bed with her children. So much for the light mood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">At this point, I figured I had nothing to lose, so I just told the client what I was thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“You and I just met, and I hate having conversations like that with people that don’t know me very well. The problem is that if I don’t have those conversations, I’m just not doing my job- and I haven’t done either of us any favors.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Thankfully, she understood that I wasn’t trying to scare her or exaggerate things, but she had asked me a direct question and expected a direct answer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just felt awkward having to give it to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I try not to frighten people, especially on their first visit with us. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work out that way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t scare her away and I’ll get to see her and her Ewok again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-71200233256092085522012-10-29T09:40:00.000-05:002012-10-29T09:40:38.149-05:00The Weirdest Case: One Sick Puppy<em>We have a guest blogger! Dr. Jordan Towns wrote this piece about one of the stranger cases that we've seen in a long time. This case has a happy ending and we've been delighted to see the patient for something as mundane as puppy shots and boarding since his first troubles.</em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8BpfvoZeG5U/UI6Plg2aihI/AAAAAAAAAEE/3U7xRyGxpH4/s1600/max+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8BpfvoZeG5U/UI6Plg2aihI/AAAAAAAAAEE/3U7xRyGxpH4/s320/max+edited.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<em>a happy & healthy Max</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">It had been a fairly uneventful night on call when one of the weirdest cases I had ever seen fell into my lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ring of the emergency phone startled me from the mundane task of checking e-mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened to the list of odd behaviors and symptoms, and promptly called the concerned owners back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The patient was a young Labrador puppy named Max.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until that night, Max had been the typical Lab puppy: energetic, loving, and happy, with a bottomless appetite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, when the family had returned from work that afternoon, Max was not acting at all like himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was lying around looking uncomfortable, and he hadn’t eaten at all that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something was definitely wrong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">When I met Max’s worried parents at the clinic, I immediately noticed that Max was a very sick puppy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tensed when I touched his abdomen, indicating to me that his abdomen was very painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily – or so I thought – there is a relatively short list of problems that are likely to cause a sudden onset of a bad belly-ache in a puppy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Usually a puppy with a sudden belly-ache has either swallowed an object (like a toy), eaten something that didn’t agree with them, or developed a condition called an “intussusception”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Intussusception was likely; it’s a condition where a portion of the intestine actually telescopes inside another portion of intestine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">The bad news about these potential diagnoses is that they usually require surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the good news is that surgery can provide a cure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The exam and x-rays pointed to an obstruction or intussusception; it was soon clear that surgery was the only way we could pinpoint Max’s problem and fix it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Max’s parents readily agreed to the surgery, so it was now time for action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max was very sick, so he would need a skilled anesthetist to monitor his condition throughout the surgery – this is where Jana, our on-call technician, was ready to help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was also a good chance that two people were needed to complete portions of the surgery, and Dr. Bean was happy to come in and assist me with this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max was prepped for surgery, and our search for Max’s problem began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Soon into the surgery, we noticed that Max’s bladder was enormous - and unhealthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It appeared that Max had been unable to urinate, causing his bladder to fill and stretch until it was causing the symptoms that his owners had noticed this afternoon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">This was not what I expected at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, this problem is considered extremely rare in a young puppy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was certainly not on my radar!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Something had blocked Max’s ability to urinate… and we needed to find out what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we removed the urine from the bladder, we noticed many white crystals floating in the urine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, we did not know exactly what these crystals were, but it certainly seemed that they had been the cause of Max’s trouble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After returning the bladder to its normal size, we finished the surgery and woke Max up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We saved the urine sample so that we could send it to the lab the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By doing that, we might be able to determine what the crystals are made of, and what we could do to prevent the same problem from occurring again in the future. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">While the surgery revealed the issue and solved Max’s discomfort, we still had concerns. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a possibility that the blockage had caused severe and permanent damage to his bladder, meaning that Max might not be able to urinate on his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made the decision to leave the urinary catheter in place for a few days and provide supportive care; this would give Max’s bladder an opportunity to heal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point, all we could do is hope and pray and wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">The next morning, Max was acting just like a normal Labrador puppy again – barking, eating, and walking about his kennel asking for attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we were all excited to see the progress, we knew that we’d still have to wait a few days to find out if Max was really going to be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The test results returned and gave us some clues as to what caused Max’s problem.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">It appears that Max had a urinary tract infection that created an ideal environment for the crystals to form in his urine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although this was still an unusual occurrence in a young puppy, we were happy to have some answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max did very well throughout the rest of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night, however, he managed to pull out his urinary catheter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had only been 24 hours since the surgery, but I was hopeful that his bladder may have healed quickly and he would be able to urinate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, that was not the case – the next morning, Max seemed uncomfortable and appeared to be straining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick ultrasound revealed a very full bladder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max was still unable to urinate on his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max was anesthetized once again, and the urinary catheter was replaced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would need to remain with us for a few more days. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Max continued to act like a normal Labrador puppy over the next few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That Saturday marked Max’s 5<sup>th</sup> day at the clinic, and he was starting to get a bit restless (well, he had been restless… he is a Labrador puppy, after all!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max’s bladder had been given 4 full days to heal, so the decision was made to remove the catheter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prayers were said, and the catheter was removed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a few hours, to our joy and excitement, Max proved that he was able to urinate on his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Max’s parents were ecstatic to hear the news – their beloved Max could come home!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-1279587883662884012012-10-02T13:06:00.000-05:002012-10-02T13:06:22.493-05:00Nice People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-Ed8hJY0Z8/UGsmRRwC0yI/AAAAAAAAAD0/l26O59vpwQc/s1600/toby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p-Ed8hJY0Z8/UGsmRRwC0yI/AAAAAAAAAD0/l26O59vpwQc/s320/toby.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Toby, enjoying Dr. Bean's gift from a client</span></em> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Welcome back to the blog-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Summer is gone, and things are a little slower at the clinic. That leaves us more time to talk to you about the things that go on here (as well as digging up some ghosts from my past, on occasion). It feels good to be back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I wanted to dedicate this installment of the blog to some folks who have been exceptionally generous to us lately. The things that they’ve done have brightened up some rough days. I don’t normally name names in the blog, but I’ll make an exception for this one. There are some folks in this world that make life better, and they never get any press. Nice people deserve some recognition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A few weeks ago, Mr. Thomason came to the clinic with his dog, Freedom. Freedom is a beautiful blue merle Australian Shepherd. She came in with some GI upset that, in the end, turned out not to be life threatening- despite the fact that she did lose some blood. When she first came in, I was admiring her owner’s Thundercats t-shirt. Thundercats was one of my favorite cartoons as a kid. I even had the comic books. Well, a couple of weeks after Freedom’s troubles were over, Mr. Thomason showed up with a thank-you card and a Thundercats shirt for me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It rocks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wear it when I pick up my kids at school, despite the fact that only the parents have any idea who the Thundercats are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We’ve got a couple of clients who bring in a healthy dose of humor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Woodrow usually snips out anything animal related and funny from the newspaper and shares it with us when he comes in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always enjoy circulating them among the staff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ms. Kenny, a clever woman with an artistic bent, came in to get one of her pets checked out the other day. When the appointment was over, she said <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey, I’ve got something for you.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From under her chair, she pulled out a bright blue, doll-sized stool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was puzzled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“I know it’s kind of small, not like a real stool… it’s more like a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stool sample</i></b>.” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I had to laugh. You can see the "stool sample" above in the picture with Toby.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Food is always a big hit at </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;">Branchville</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;">Animal</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hospital</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The Cole family has a pack of small, white </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial;">Chihuahuas</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Arial;">. It might be more appropriate to call them a herd. They’ve been coming in for years. In the Cole household, there are some very accomplished dessert chefs- their creations rival what you see on the Food Network. They’ve sent so much sugary goodness our way in the past few weeks that we’re starting to wonder if they bought stock in an insulin manufacturer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We get a lot of fresh produce as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day last week, I came back from lunch and found a bushel of peas, a dozen ears of corn, and a sack full of banana and jalapeno peppers in my office. I had no idea where it came from. As it turns out, some of the clinic neighbors, the </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial;">Wilsons</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial;">, put a bug in the ear of one of their friends, Mr. Honeycutt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had told him how much I had enjoyed the </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial;">Wilsons</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial;">’ produce that Mr. Honeycutt decided to bring me some as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Honeycutt and his dog have been coming in for seven years now- their first visit was right at a month after we opened. I had no idea that he was an accomplished gardener until last week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One last specific instance:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">One day, we had had a particularly bad morning. We had been working with a couple of families saying goodbye to pets after long illnesses. We also had some first time clients angry with their neighbors over what could be a poisoning case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The receptionists (the most difficult job in the clinic, by the way) had been dealing with this high-pressure environment- helping some grieve and helping to calm frayed nerves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We finally got things slowed down when Mr. Pike came through the front door, laden with fresh tomatoes from </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sand</span></st1:placename><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="font-family: Arial;">Mountain</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial;">. The mood changed instantly. It was a miracle of timing. Later on that day, I was looking at the big brown box full of bright red tomatoes in the clinic break room and thinking:<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> just when you start to lose faith in humanity, in walks Mr. Pike with a box of tomatoes.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Good people are everywhere. I feel lucky that so many of them choose to come see us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">-RAB<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-88139167794710471572012-04-30T13:46:00.000-05:002012-04-30T13:46:33.807-05:00The Other End of the Stethoscope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V3xgTybpF6o/T56-uLNGJSI/AAAAAAAAADo/Dskb-LySg-E/s1600/33dogwithstethascope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" oda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V3xgTybpF6o/T56-uLNGJSI/AAAAAAAAADo/Dskb-LySg-E/s200/33dogwithstethascope.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">“I was praying that no clients saw me... They would have called an exorcist.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">With my job, I’m usually the one doing the diagnosing and surgery for other people. Recently, the tables have turned, and I got to see what it was like on the other end of the stethoscope…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A few weeks ago, I woke up having slept in an odd position. My shoulder felt a little funny, but I didn’t think much about it. I went to work and did my normal job all morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did surgery, picked up dogs, wrestled angry cats, etc.- nothing was out of the ordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem started when my wife and I left for lunch that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we turned left out of the clinic parking lot to head for one of my favorite Odenville haunts, Charlie’s Barbecue, I felt a tightening in my neck as I held my head in place against the force of the turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the muscles clenched in a spasm, causing incredible pain in my neck and shoulder. The pain took my breath away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Startled, my wife pulled over and I worked things out. The muscle relaxed slowly as I stretched it. I thought that things were going to be OK, so we went on to Charlie’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The restaurant has an open porch that you can eat on, and we were enjoying good food and nice weather when the spasms started again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t too bad at first- a spasm every five minutes or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was painful, but I was doing my best to hide the issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife tried to convince me to go to the doctor, but I resisted. I thought I could wait until tomorrow- I was wrong.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Before I could finish my food, the spasms were coming every minute. They were more and more painful, like the muscle was being torn every time the spasm hit. I was praying that no clients saw me writhing in pain in the Pig Sty (the official name for the deck area at Charlie’s). They would have called an exorcist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I relented and told my wife that it couldn’t wait. To the doctor we went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were waiting in the doctor’s parking lot when the staff came back from lunch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have been to a doctor exactly 2 times in the last 10 years. I make it a habit to stay away if possible, but I was desperate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got lucky this time: the staff was able to get me into an exam room quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was still in pain, the spasms were slowing… right up to the point when my doctor opened the exam room door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dr. R hadn’t even made it through the door of the exam room when a spasm hit and twisted me sideways, grunting with the effort to straighten myself back out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the midst of it, I couldn’t help but notice that he took a short step back from me (If you had seen that happen, how close would you want to stand?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This happened several more times in the room while we talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once, in the middle of a spasm, he grabbed my arm, planted the palm of his other hand just off the center of my chest, and folded my arm across my chest. The relief was instant. I sagged forward like a puppet with the strings cut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dr. R showed my wife how to put tension on the muscle to stretch it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He recommended rest and stretches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then came the tough part: treatment options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The ideal plan was to use a drug that would relax my muscles, but as a side effect, might leave me fuzzy-headed. I had a business meeting that night that couldn’t be rescheduled, and needed to be mentally sharp. Fuzzy-headedness wasn’t an option. Another part of the plan would be to give me a shot in the rump to get some fast relief. I had two problems with that one:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="A"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’m not a big fan of needles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are fine when I’m vaccinating a dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are downright scary when sticking me. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My doctor is a client. The nurse assisting him was a client as well. If I had to drop my pants in front of these people, I could never look them in the face again. When someone sticks a needle in your backside, your relationship with them is changed forever. You can quote me on that.</span></li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">In the end, Dr. R had mercy on me and worked around my hang-ups. They gave me some tablets in the office. The ride home was rough, but two hours, one nap, and a lot of stretching later, I was almost pain free and had recovered enough to go to my meeting without incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dr. R even called me the next morning to make sure that I was functional. I was, and I was grateful for it. I was back at work and doing well, but because I was on meds, I didn’t allow myself to do surgery for a few days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what did I learn?</span></div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I learned a new level of sympathy for animals in pain. Pain is the opposite of fun.</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I learned that being flexible with treatment recommendations is important, even if I don’t understand why people don’t want to go with my first recommendation. My doctor had conviction about what was best for me medically and stuck to his guns about it. I appreciate that tremendously. I also appreciate that he was able to find alternatives that I could live with.</span></li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">My plans for the immediate future? To stay on my preferred end of the stethoscope.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">-RAB</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-43028400123973267822012-01-31T10:39:00.000-06:002012-01-31T10:39:40.549-06:00The Possum Tale, or, Pride Cometh Before the Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-08bd8eYfOEg/TybTR3Yo5LI/AAAAAAAAADg/M8p0PJUNw-I/s1600/baby+possum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-08bd8eYfOEg/TybTR3Yo5LI/AAAAAAAAADg/M8p0PJUNw-I/s200/baby+possum.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #181818; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10.5pt;">“The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.”<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10.5pt;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">―<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/106.Madeleine_L_Engle"><span style="background: white; color: #666600; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Madeleine L'Engle</span></span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">When I was a kid, the rules for Show-And-Tell in public schools were, to say the least, lenient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the highlight of the week, something kids looked forward to for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Ms. Braden’s second-grade class at my now-defunct elementary school, it was an opportunity to really show off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One particular week, fate brought me an opportunity to show off like no other elementary school kid has had before or since.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">One night, my brother and I were out riding the 4-wheeler in a pasture near my parents’ house. In the glint of the headlight, we saw a small, furry creature trundling along across the pasture. It was a baby possum. The opportunity to try to catch it for a closer look was too great to resist. My brother and I hatched a plan: he would stay near the area where we last saw it while I rode off to get a plastic bucket to snag it in. I drove back to the house as fast as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quickly returned, bucket in hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We scooped the little guy up and carried him back to the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was proud to show him off to my folks, but I had larger audience in mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I have to pause in the story to talk a little bit about possums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name “Opossum” is from an American Indian word that means something like “White Beast” if I remember right. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems appropriate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They deserve the name “beast” when cornered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Have you ever cornered a possum?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hiss and open their mouth to show you all 50 of their teeth. I know 50 teeth seems like an exaggeration, but that’s what the reference literature cites (after my experience with this particular possum, I think it’s closer to 200).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’d like to see their teeth, just irritate one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will be happy to show them to you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Angry possums have the attitude of a rattlesnake with a migraine. [Speaking of rattlesnakes, did you know that possums have partial (and in some cases, complete) immunity to rattlesnake and other pit viper bites? How tough do you have to be to have that ability?]<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While possums may appear like cute woodland creatures, they are vicious animals anxious to gnaw any limb they can reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least, that’s my experience…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Anyway, back to the story:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The day after I took the possum home just happened to be show-and-tell. I begged my parents to let me take the beast to school, and they figured that it would be something different- perhaps even educational- so they agreed. The next morning found me standing at the end of my driveway in the fog with a shoe box under my arm, waiting to board the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no prouder person than an eight-year-old boy with a possum in a box for show-and-tell.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The anticipation that morning was nearly too much for me to bear. The occasional scratching sounds from the box inside my old metal desk faintly echoed through the morning, heightening the tension. Finally, after lunch, the big moment came.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I stood before my class and opened the lid of the box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I basked in the adulation of my peers. The possum was the hit of the class, cute in an ugly way, peacefully staring back at the throng of children with small, black, beady eyes. I don’t believe that any of my classmates had ever seen one before, and certainly not this close.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Word got around the school about what I had brought, and requests started coming in from other teachers (who, I will assume, were looking for something interesting for their science classes) that they wanted the possum to make appearances in their classes as well. Instead of being in my class that afternoon, I was making rounds of the lower-grade classrooms, showing off the Marsupial Marvel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I was going through the hall from one class to another when I ran into one of my buddies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He quickly cornered me with an eye on the box.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Is the possum in there? I want to see it!” he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Unable to resist the pull of elementary school stardom, I opened the box and looked at my friend’s face to see his reaction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“Is it dead?” he asked, with a befuddled look.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I looked into the box and saw the unthinkable: the baby possum was twisted in an odd position, motionless, in the box.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">‘He was fine a minute ago!” I said, as I poked him with my finger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">You can guess where this is headed, can’t you?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The tiny beast sprang to life and clamped down on my right index finger with lightning speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three of its needle-like teeth went right through the fingernail. It was stuck on my hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I started trying to shake it off my hand, gripped with terror. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No luck. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My buddy was backing away from me, as if he didn’t know who the next intended victim was. I panicked and did the only thing I could think of.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">In the hallway, there was an old steel water fountain that had been in the school since it was built in the 50’s. I swung my hand, with the woodland creature attached, as hard as I could. If you’ve ever seen a bad kung-fu movie, you know what that sounded like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A giant GONG rang down the hallway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The possum fell straight to the ground and immediately scuttled behind the fountain, unharmed but highly agitated. With some coaxing and careful maneuvering, my buddy and I got the possum back in the box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But by this time all the commotion in the hall had caused a lot of classroom doors to open. Suddenly, I had more than my share of unwanted attention as we recovered the White Beast and I wrapped my throbbing hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">And so it goes. Sometimes, the brighter a star is, the faster it burns out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">From that point forward, there were no live animals allowed at show and tell. I guess that the powers that be decided it wasn’t the kind of educational experience they wanted kids to have. It was certainly educational for me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">-RAB</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-66837488652124661212012-01-19T10:14:00.000-06:002012-01-19T10:14:42.114-06:00On Being a Vet's Wife<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><em>The blog this time is from Karen, Dr. Bean's wife. It's a different perspective on the life of a small town vet.</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This was not what I had planned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">It was </span><time hour="21" minute="0"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">9:00PM</span></time><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> on New Year’s Eve night and I was holding two pieces of small intestine while my husband was trying to stitch them together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were standing on either side of the surgery table over a dog that was on the losing side of a dogfight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the background, we could hear our two kids watching a movie in his office (they were ecstatic… a movie and delayed bedtime in the same night!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband, Dr. Bean, had just removed an eighteen inch section of bowel that had been too severely injured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This type of surgery is called a resection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The body has an amazing way of healing itself and functioning without the extra length of bowel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was helping with the surgery because it was a holiday night and our hardworking staff deserve some time with their families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had assisted in surgery several times before and I usually enjoy it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, this night was different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This night, Dr. Bean was reaching the end of the procedure, the only thing left was to stitch the two ends of bowel back together and close the surgery site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, he was having trouble with this because his target kept moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my fault- I no longer had my eyes on the bowel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He thought boredom had set in and I wasn’t paying attention (it had been a long night and a long surgery).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was looking anywhere but down as I tried my best not to pass out and hit the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The edges of my field of vision had begun to darken and I could hear the telltale ringing in my ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on my way to a full fledged faint, but was too proud to admit it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">At this time, I would like to point out that I don’t have a weak stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have cleaned up after several dogs and cats plus lived with two kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have helped clean fish and deliver puppies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve assisted in surgery plenty of times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, something about that night and that operation sent me over the edge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I was able to hold on a little longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully, Dr. Bean had come to a point where I could take a break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the chance to sit on the floor where I could watch the dog’s breathing and monitor the anesthesia machine, all while resting my head on my knees.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">He thought this was amusing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought it was humiliating.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This was definitely not what I had planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not what I had planned for a late New Year’s Eve night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not what we had originally planned for our careers over fifteen years ago when we got married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I must say though, that I love our life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love having a family business where we can work together and where our kids can visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that we have built a business that can provide for us and our employees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that we get to work with a great group of folks: our employees and our clients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love being part of a small town where complete strangers stop me to tell me that my husband is wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do love this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">There are some things about being a vet’s wife that are not so great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We take separate cars to church in case he gets an emergency call during service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Family vacations have to be carefully planned away from major holidays, spring break, or summer since we normally have a lot of boarders at those times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve spent many restless nights with a howling dog or cat in our laundry room at home when my husband was too worried to leave it alone at the clinic overnight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">These are the types of things that we never had to deal with in our previous life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twelve years ago, we were both working in an </span><city><place><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Atlanta</span></place></city><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"> suburb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was an associate at a small animal clinic, I was a research engineer for a large consumer products company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The future was mapped out: we would both work our way up with our employers with no significant changes ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our lives revolved around our careers and fighting traffic and we didn’t mind too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We worked our eight to ten hours a day and went home leaving the office behind us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Then we had our son in 2002 and suddenly hour long commutes were no longer so much fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time our son was 2, we were looking for a way out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The idea of owning a practice had not previously appealed to Dr. Bean- the hours are long and the financial risk is high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But owning a practice would allow us to move back to </span><state><place><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Alabama</span></place></state><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">, near our families, and keep me at home, at least part-time, with the kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were soon exploring the idea of opening a clinic and building a new life in a small town.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">So fast forward to 2012…. we’ve traded the corporate world for the world of small business in a small town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We no longer have a boss to gripe about; we are the bosses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve swapped the hour long commutes for school carpooling and walking dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work now follows us home and sometimes it seems like it’s all we talk about.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">And we love it.</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-38084441700200850182012-01-12T16:16:00.000-06:002012-01-12T16:16:39.730-06:00Scully, the World’s Best Dog, part 2.<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">In one of the previous installments of this blog, we told you about Scully, one of the animals we have treated for cancer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her type of cancer, lymphoma, is one of the few that are treated in the private practice setting on a regular basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may remember from the earlier blog, that typical life expectancy after lymphoma treatment was 6 to 12 months and Scully had just passed the 16 month mark. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may not sound long, but sixteen months means a lot of walks and doggie treats.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Scully had come in a couple of times during early November. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things started to look progressively worse as the weeks passed, and her lymph nodes were getting larger. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We re-started chemotherapy in hopes that we could buy her even more time, despite the fact that she was well beyond average survival times already.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">The day before Thanksgiving, Scully’s Mom brought her in and let me check her over once more. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The news wasn’t good: her disease simply wasn’t responding to the drugs anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I ran my hands over her, feeling the changes that the cancer was making, the right decision became clear. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned to Scully’s owner and recommended that they discontinue treatment. They did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Things went along relatively normally until a couple of days before Christmas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scully had started to have some bad days. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had an episode of weakness on Christmas Eve in the afternoon and evening, and I wound up talking to and checking in on them a couple of times that night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I called back Christmas morning and found out that she had passed away the night before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had followed her owners outside to the mailbox that evening as she always did- it was sort of a ritual- and on her way back into the house she simply collapsed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She passed away in her owner’s arms.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was the best way I could have imagined it happening, really- She was at home doing the simple things that made her happy, and she was with the people she loved. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her owners had been wrestling with the decision to euthanize ever since her turn for the worse. The stress of that decision hanging over their heads was a real burden for them, and understandably so. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it happened, they didn’t have to make that call.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whenever we get into the more intensive medical treatments in animals with a questionable prognosis, we always have to ask ourselves a series of questions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are the most likely outcomes if we proceed? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are the risks? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is the price something that the owner has the ability and desire to take on?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">These types of decisions can become complex quickly; emotions have a heavy influence in how we approach things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Scully’s case, it turns out that the decision to treat her did have a good payoff. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had well over a year of extra life, with the majority of it spent feeling good and being with the family she had always been with. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel good about that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">My wife is doing a guest blog about being married to a veterinarian, which should be interesting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’ll publish it in a week or two.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> <o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">A teaser for my next blog:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">Remember show and tell at your elementary school? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me too.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did you ever take a live possum? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">It turned out to be more exciting than I had planned…-RAB<o:p></o:p></span></span>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-33559025616703654432011-12-15T11:09:00.000-06:002011-12-15T11:09:08.049-06:00First Christmas with Sam<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSU0zuK_eDw/Tuoo-aT4KrI/AAAAAAAAADY/amO50z3y-R8/s1600/xmas+cat+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" oda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSU0zuK_eDw/Tuoo-aT4KrI/AAAAAAAAADY/amO50z3y-R8/s320/xmas+cat+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">About a year after we got married, my wife and I adopted a little fuzzball of a kitten from the barn next door to my parents’ farm. We named him Sam, and he came to live with us in <city><place>Auburn</place></city>. By December of that year, Sam was a few months old and well on his way to being pure pandemonium.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">It was my second year of vet school and we were getting ready to wind things down for the Christmas break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember walking through the pine straw in the yard and up the steps to my front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just finished a 2 hour Parasitology lab and I was ready to come home and relax for the evening.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">When I opened the front door, my wife was standing there with tears streaming down her face.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Initially, I thought something terrible had happened: a death in the family, trouble with her coursework (she is an engineer by training, and her classes at the time were intense to say the least), obviously it had to be something terrible and unforeseen…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">She looked up at me and said “I’m going to kill that cat. Don’t let me see him.” And then she walked away. Over her shoulder, I saw the trouble at last: the Christmas tree, ornaments and all, had gone down in flames like the Hindenburg. I could only assume that the cat was to blame. Oh, the humanity.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I picked my way across the living room through the ornaments, fragments of ornaments, and shattered Christmas Cheer to get closer to the scene. The tree was lying full length on the floor in a significantly less idyllic state than it was the night before.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">What was left of it looked a lot like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree- a sad arrangement of stem and twigs held together by nothing more than hope. There were ornaments and pieces of ornaments strewn from the bathroom door, through the den, and into the kitchen. The whole scene was so ridiculous that I laughed out loud. Then I realized that I hadn’t seen the cat since I walked in. He had vanished.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I pieced this part of it together later, after an interview with the only witness to the crime:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">When my wife came in from class, she saw the tree immediately when she opened the door. She stood looking at it for a second, dumbstruck, when Sam blazed by her. He was tearing through the living room, rolling an ornament ahead of him with his paws like a soccer player on his way to an uncontested goal. She immediately put together what had happened, and the chase was on.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Being the stealthy creature he was, Sam quickly decided that the best tactic was to get under a piece of furniture and hide until he was found, then sprint beneath another one when his pursuer got within arms’ reach. This apparently went on for a while. My wife eventually lost track of him. Sam escaped capture, which is a good thing for him. If she had caught him at that moment, no power in the universe could have saved him.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I started my search for the half-grown cat in all his usual hangouts, and found no sign of him. About half an hour later, I found him backed into a corner behind a toilet, shaking, with his eyes as big as saucers. Sam and I had a talk, and we decided that it would be best if he steered clear of Mommy for a few days.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Sam is 15 now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He no longer plays the way he used to and his eyesight is patchy at best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully with age comes wisdom and Sam has learned to leave the Christmas tree alone. We won’t have many more Christmases with him, but he made his first one very, very memorable.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">-RAB</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-74222686421734658942011-10-28T14:03:00.000-05:002011-10-28T14:03:29.736-05:00Random Trivia<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WjpvXbKRtfA/Tqr6UIgcXjI/AAAAAAAAADA/kPHftzK0zVo/s1600/pumpkin+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" ida="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WjpvXbKRtfA/Tqr6UIgcXjI/AAAAAAAAADA/kPHftzK0zVo/s400/pumpkin+cat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em>courtesy of icanhascheezburger.com</em></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’ve met some interesting people and seen some interesting things in the 22 years I’ve been working in veterinary practices. A lot of them are too short to justify a whole blog entry, so I decided to put a few into a trivia-style blog. Some things are just too strange to not pass along…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I once broke into a vet clinic when I was a teenager… to walk the dogs on a Thanksgiving morning. I didn’t have a key, and the person who had the key and was supposed to help me was over an hour late. I had to scale a wall to access the door to the kennels. All the dogs got their Thanksgiving treats, and I got home in time for Thanksgiving Lunch with my family. And my co-worker?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She showed up just as I was walking the last dog.</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol start="2" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">I worked at a clinic that had one of <country-region><place>America</place></country-region>’s few female serial killers as a client. Her name was Audrey Marie Hilley, and she was from <place><city>Anniston</city>, <state>Alabama</state></place>. Her nickname was The Black Widow. She even bounced a check at the clinic. They didn’t pursue her for payment… I wonder why… If you want to know more about her, Wiki has a pretty good article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audrey_Marie_Hilley</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol start="3" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Have you ever ultrasounded a llama to see if it was pregnant while it spat on you repeatedly in protest? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have.</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol start="4" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Scared Straight: I have seen one rabid animal. It was a bat found climbing up a screen door to someone’s back porch in the middle of the day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t take the appropriate precautions for my personal safety when I sent the sample to the State for testing. This was a bad decision on my part, because I wound up having to list myself as a “potentially exposed” individual with the State of Alabama Department of Public Health. That led to a significant amount of paperwork. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was 17 years old. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never taken a potentially rabid animal lightly since.</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol start="5" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Just after <place><placename>Branchville</placename> <placename>Animal</placename> <placetype>Hospital</placetype></place> opened, I had a very nice lady bring me a snake to identify. It was in her basement, and she and a neighbor had captured it in a 20-ounce drink bottle. You should have seen her face when I told her it was poisonous. I have no idea how they got it into the bottle without getting bitten.</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><ol start="6" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">My worst on-the-job injury was a bite not from a dog or a cat, but from a gerbil named Zippy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was awful and I might have to write a whole blog about it later.</li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">If any of you guys want to hear more about the incidents I wrote about this time, drop me a line and let me know. Thanks, everybody, and have a safe Halloween!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">-RAB</div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-1246719598864709372011-10-06T13:53:00.001-05:002011-10-07T08:43:59.400-05:00Current Events - October 2011<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I decided to postpone the promised horse blog to do a “current events” blog. It’s been an unusual week around here… pretty memorable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Monday of this week, I neutered a rat. Yes, a pet rat. It was something I’ve never done before, and wouldn’t have agreed to it except that:</span></div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">A staffer here asked me to do it, and</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We had a sincere but brief conversation about anesthetic risk with small rodents a few days before I did it (I also made her promise not to tell her daughter about the new pet rat until <u>after</u> the surgery & recovery).</span></li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">We have the benefit of having a couple of techs on staff that have had some experience dealing with more unusual pets. One of them ran anesthesia for me while I did the surgery as fast as possible to get </span><place><span style="font-family: Arial;">Dudley</span></place><span style="font-family: Arial;"> awake ASAP. It went off without a hitch, but I have to admit I was sweating bullets the whole time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On Tuesday, someone “donated” an injured bird to us. As best we can figure, it’s a Rail of some sort- a spindly-legged marsh bird. It was addled at first, and was therefore easy to deal with. As we fed it and it came back to its senses, it began to act like you would expect any wild creature to act: It tried to kill the people working with it. Thank goodness, its abilities in that area are somewhat limited by the fact that it weighs about 2 ounces. Here’s a picture of him before he turned into the avian version of The Incredible Hulk:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eVMPL06XOmg/To34lUqK4VI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Na_-NjMeRyA/s1600/bird+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eVMPL06XOmg/To34lUqK4VI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Na_-NjMeRyA/s320/bird+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">After almost a full day of rehab here at the clinic, the bird is destined for a local wildlife rescue group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think he’ll enjoy having a new group of folks to thrash.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Finally, we took in some boarders yesterday that are a little out of the norm for us. Here’s a picture of the crew:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mEg94H_7QzQ/To345KV6SXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/LbtI23f0SpA/s1600/chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mEg94H_7QzQ/To345KV6SXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/LbtI23f0SpA/s320/chickens.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I have to say that I think this is fun. I grew up on a poultry farm with tens of thousands of chickens at a time, so eight is a different ballgame entirely. They’ll be with us until next week until their owners get back into town. Until then, I’ll be entertained by the occasional “peep” mixed in with the barking from the kennels.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I’ve talked before about not knowing exactly what you’ll be doing every morning when you go into work as a veterinarian. This week has proven that variety is the spice of life- it’s been a blast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">-RAB</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-799273583779283022011-08-24T09:08:00.000-05:002011-08-24T09:08:10.307-05:00Queenie and the Highway 5 Incident<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DdAreYnn2V8/TlUBRen9ZvI/AAAAAAAAAC0/fCyM3F6XfhQ/s1600/funny-pictures-horse-in-car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" qaa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DdAreYnn2V8/TlUBRen9ZvI/AAAAAAAAAC0/fCyM3F6XfhQ/s320/funny-pictures-horse-in-car.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"><em>courtesy of icanhascheezburger.com</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Q: “Do you work on horses, too?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">A: “No, ma’am, I don’t.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">It’s a question I get asked frequently by clients when they meet me for the first time. The next couple of blogs will tell the stories that could be considered stepping stones on my path to writing horses off as a species I would deal with professionally:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">When I was a kid, I would go to my grandparents’ house every summer for a week or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother and I would spend time with them, and usually my cousins as well, in one of the most rural settings Alabama has to offer. Through my young eyes, it was a magical time. The days were filled with exploring the woods, fishing, fireworks, shuffleboard at the community club, and swimming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then there was the horse.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Her name was Queenie, and her expressionless brown eyes hid the cold flames of her hatred for children.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I’ll spare you the details of the times that she would step on my bare feet and attempt to grind me into the ground (“I’m sure she didn’t mean to!”, the adults would say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riiiight.) No, we’ll go straight into The Highway 5 Incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was about 7 years old at the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">My grandfather wanted all of us grandkids to grow up riding horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never had the desire, really, but was cajoled into riding double behind an older cousin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that my grandfather had been riding Queenie to keep her used to the concept and this made me a little more comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I agreed to get on, I watched my cousin ride her solo. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So, what could go wrong?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost everything.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">My cousin and I together probably weighed about 150 lbs., which was far less than what Queenie was used to when she carried my granddad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my grandfather let go the reins and turned control over to my cousin, things were going well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plan was to take a slow ride down the roadside in front of the house, on the flat packed surface made from dirt and gravel from the nearby Cahaba River.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The “slow ride” portion lasted for about 10 seconds. That’s when the “hang-on-for-dear-life” part began. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Queenie picked up speed, first getting up to a trot, then deciding to go faster. As my adult family members watched us speed away, my cousin tried to regain control with what appeared to be a pretty fair level of skill for someone about 10 years old. It may have actually been desperation seasoned with a little bit of panic, but from my vantage point, it looked like skill. These are the kinds of observations one makes when one is a second grader on the back of a horse that has just decided to go off the reservation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">[I was probably suffering from what a psychologist would call a case of Normalcy Bias, or maybe just Denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My child’s mind was trying to convince me that everything was going to go back to normal, and everything was going to be just fine. Well, it wasn’t.]</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about 100 yards, Queenie put on the brakes, and then reared up. This threw my cousin off… which was trouble for me in two ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, it meant that there was nobody was holding the reins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second, as you will remember, she had been sitting in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she fell off, she went backwards. This knocked me flat on my back while still sitting on the horse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was gripping with my legs, unable to sit back up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Queenie had started trotting again, heading away from my Grandparents’ house and toward the biggest local road- Highway 5. I was still onboard, and with each stride she took, my back slapped against the top of her rump while I held a death grip with my legs.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Even as I struggled to get upright, I knew that it was never going to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting jostled too hard to ever overcome it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was at this moment that I accepted my fate.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a short life, but a good one, I said to myself. Then, I released my grip on Queenie’s flanks and waited for whatever would happen next.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I discovered that freefall is an interesting, peaceful sensation in the few heartbeats it took for me to reach the ground. I hit flat on my back, which knocked the wind out of me. Normally, this would have been a bad thing, but I was so grateful to be off the horse that I simply didn’t care. Slamming into hard-packed river gravel never felt so good.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">My only worry at this point was that Queenie was going to double back to try to finish the job she had started- maybe stomping me into paste while I struggled to get up - but she didn’t. She did, however, make it to Highway 5 before my grandfather could catch her and get her back to the barn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">So, my cousin and I survived. I’ll never forget what my uncle (a towering, mischievous, mustachioed man) said to me later. As we sat on the front porch of my grandparents’ house, he barely hid a smile. “You mean to tell me you just <i>let go</i>? Why didn’t you hold on? It seemed like you had things under control to me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Later, I wondered why Queenie chose the course of action she did that day. She had never thrown anyone off before. The only conclusion I could come to is that she had been biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to eliminate two kids at once. Despite the fact that she tried to end me, I had to admire her cunning and patience in the pursuit of her targets. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">More horse stories next time-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">-RAB</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-90811470443019513382011-07-13T22:07:00.000-05:002011-07-13T22:07:26.360-05:00I am NOT Batman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gpvw39AIO6o/Th5bU0h8inI/AAAAAAAAACw/rZeAU6mwmpA/s1600/evicted+bat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gpvw39AIO6o/Th5bU0h8inI/AAAAAAAAACw/rZeAU6mwmpA/s320/evicted+bat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">You don’t have to be a veterinarian to have odd things drop in on you from the animal kingdom. Last night, for example, we had an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">event</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">My wife and I had put the kids to bed and were enjoying some peanut butter crackers and a DVD. It was getting late, so when the door opening chime sounded, we were immediately alarmed and started looking for an intruder. What we found instead was a sleepwalking child who had opened the front door on his way to parts unknown. We didn’t know that this was going to shape the rest of our evening when we got him back into bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few minutes later, my wife and I were back into the TV show when she looked to her right and said “Huh. There’s a bird in the house.” I looked over at her just in time to see her expression change from curiosity to horror. “It’s a bat! A Bat! THERE’S A BAT IN THE HOUSE!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t dislike bats. They eat mosquitoes, which I do dislike, and therefore I consider us allies. The only problem with this truce is that the only rabid animal I’ve ever dealt with was a bat. That’s a hard thing to forget when you wife has just informed you that one has invaded your domicile. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stood up from the couch to find the bat and figure out how to solve this problem. As it turns out, I didn’t have to worry about finding it. As I turned, the bat nearly flew into my face. I spun to get out of the way, spraying my peanut butter crackers all over the living room. I may or may not have screamed at this point. There’s no video of the incident, and wives cannot be forced to testify against their husbands in a court of law.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Speaking of my wife- she was on her feet by this point. It looked like she was somewhere between fight and flight. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bat was turning tight circles, flapping noiselessly around my living room, and he was moving fast. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was afraid to stand and get in the flight path again, so I sort of low-crawled into the next room and stood up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, this was a mistake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After orbiting the living room for 10 or 15 laps, he shot by me again and made a hard turn, flying through the open door of my youngest child’s bedroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had crouched again and didn’t see him, but I saw his shadow tracing a path on the wall of the bedroom with the help of a night light.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">My problems had just gotten worse. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now had a wild animal in my child’s bedroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my cats had headed for the hills amid the shuffling of frantic humans and a UFO whirling over its head (it was later recovered under the bed at the other end of the house). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My other cat is blind, and therefore had no idea what was happening or which way to run to get away from it all. He was frantically trying to get somewhere -anywhere- else, and I tripped over him trying to get to the bedroom and shoo the bat out. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">My wife had collected herself and gone for a broom while this was happening. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also found the presence of mind to remember that I am vaccinated for rabies, which she made sure to yell over her shoulder. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That, in addition to the Y chromosome, made me the go-to guy for bat eviction. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucky me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I opened the front door to try to give the creature an escape route, and started towards my child’s bedroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife called out for me to tell her where the bat was, as we were separated at this point in the riot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s in the bedr-“ was all I could get out before it winged by me again. I whirled around to see where it went, and it came back at me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hit the deck this time, flat on my stomach, as the bat lapped the room about 2 feet above my head.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was at this point, lying flat on my stomach in my dining room with a winged rodent circling above me, that I realized I was being made a fool. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was nothing I could do, however, because I couldn’t stand up without getting in the flight path of the whirling, potentially rabid beast about the same size as a gerbil. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife yelled again from the other room to see where the bat was. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I replied, without thinking, "He's got me pinned down!", as if the bat was doing strafing runs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still on the floor, craning my neck to see which way he was going next, when he flew through the kitchen and to my bedroom. This took him past my wife, who saw him fly straight into the master bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">He had flown into a room that was smaller than his turn radius. This was the only thing that gave us the upper hand. When I reached the room, he was on the floor, addled, behind the garbage can after having flown into the wall. When I came close, I heard him for the first time- he was looking at me and (probably) swearing in a high pitched, growling, metallic-clicking voice. After an aborted attempt to catch him using a mop bucket and a cutting board, he crawled into a crack between our bathroom cabinet and the floor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he was out of sight and totally inaccessible. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had no choice but to wait him out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We blocked the crack at the bottom of our bathroom door with some Western novels we had bought for my Dad- it was the best thing we could find to block it in- and went to sleep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 4:30AM, my wife woke me up saying that she heard him scratching around in the bathroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We checked the room and found nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We assumed he was still tucked away near the cabinet, so we went back to sleep making sure to keep the bathroom sealed tight. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I left for work a few hours later, there was still no sign of him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I came home for lunch, I noticed that the bathroom door was open and the brooms (our weapon of choice) had been put away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked my wife what happened. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had kept the bathroom door shut for most of the morning, but she decided to do a more thorough search. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was turning the bathroom upside down when she eventually found the creature hiding between a shirt and a pair of pants hanging on a hook on the bathroom door. Think about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i></b> when you get dressed tomorrow morning….<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then came the part that I wish I could have seen: she opened a door to the outside, then snagged the clothes and folded them over the bat to trap it. She went to the edge of the woods behind the house and set it free. She even had the presence of mind to take pictures of the release:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DYfYFrDZkkA/Th5Z4rmiBII/AAAAAAAAACs/oUYLckZ_ee0/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DYfYFrDZkkA/Th5Z4rmiBII/AAAAAAAAACs/oUYLckZ_ee0/s320/010.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">She is justifiably proud of herself. Her final statement on the matter was "I conquered a bat".<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was an interesting incident, to say the least. In closing, I would like to say three things:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Be careful with bats. They may be cool, but they can carry rabies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you have a child that sleepwalks, barricade them in their room every night. It's the only way to be sure that they don’t let bats into your house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My wife played a big part in this story. She is also the person who polishes the blog after a couple of drafts. She's a tremendous help... most of the time. There are exceptions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Below is a paragraph that she wrote for inclusion in the blog that was "scrapped" in the editorial process. I'll let you read it and decide for yourselves whether or not it should have been included:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I must say… my wife is super cool for facing down the bat alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure she’s bigger, stronger, and smarter than the beast, but bats are just plain freaky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife is quite possibly the most awesome woman in the world."<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">-RAB<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-10959952991810215252011-06-27T22:24:00.000-05:002011-06-27T22:24:10.502-05:00One Week On Call<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2MfxYRcnJKo/Tgk_C4OOBCI/AAAAAAAAACo/mq30KmbzYbE/s1600/ems" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2MfxYRcnJKo/Tgk_C4OOBCI/AAAAAAAAACo/mq30KmbzYbE/s200/ems" width="176" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>He looks well rested... must be his first night back on call.</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Emergency work is part of what we do at Branchville Animal Hospital. We do it on a limited basis only, for several different reasons. The on-call doctor stays plenty busy when they’ve got the phone. How busy, you ask? Well, it’s really unpredictable. I have spent a full week on call without the telephone ringing (but that hasn’t happened in the last year or so). On the flip side, I vividly remember my busiest emergency call day ever: I got 11 emergency phone calls between 7:30AM and Noon one Sunday. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The odds are that within our client base, something is bound to happen outside office hours. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured that I’d do one blog as a chronicle of what happens during a random week on call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This blog is being written as the calls happen, and I’ll cover follow-up <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>care for those cases….. wish me luck.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monday:</b> My first day back on call. My associate takes the phone every other weekend- sharing coverage gives us both a chance to spend time with our families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just one call tonight- a depressed mastiff mix puppy that the owner suspected might have parvo. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was correct. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parvo, if you’re not familiar with it, is a devastating disease of puppies that is frequently fatal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a viral infection that usually kills via dehydration and secondary infection. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To treat the puppy, I placed an I.V. catheter and started antibiotics and antinausea medications. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I set the puppy up with a round of fluids dosed by a constant rate infusion pump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pump would ensure that the puppy would receive 50 milliliters per hour of I.V. fluids throughout the night to help prevent dehydration. If there’s an unsung hero in parvo treatment, it’s whoever invented the fluid pump. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Tuesday:</b> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one HBC at about 6:30PM. “HBC” is veterinary shorthand for “Hit By Car”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dog was hit in the face and was hurting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had a broken jaw (it was difficult to determine the severity at this point) and what I suspected was a significantly bruised lung when I listened through my stethoscope. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We elected to stabilize for the night, get it out of pain, and deal with the jaw the next morning. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m cautious about diving into surgery to treat major trauma at night when I’m working solo. Trauma patients can be unstable under anesthesia. That’s the kind of thing you want to take on when there are plenty of other folks in the building to come running if you scream for help. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, I’ll admit it…. I’ve had to swallow my pride and yell for help before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t even hurt my ego to think about it anymore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, at least not as much as it used to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wednesday:</b> Once the clinic opened, we started sorting out the jaw damage from the HBC incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sedated the dog for X-rays and further diagnosis. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At BAH, we have the ability to wire jaw fractures back together if the fracture occurs in about the first 2/3 of the length of the jaw. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the fracture is further back than that, then it gets beyond our expertise and surgical equipment and we refer out to a specialist. Well, this dog had it all: 2 fractures in the front of the jaw, and one fracture so far back that I knew better than to go after it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you know that Birmingham has one of only 19 certified veterinary dental specialists in the nation? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We referred the case to him with an appointment made for Thursday.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On a different note, the parvo puppy from Monday started to turn the corner on Wednesday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting a little more optimistic about his chances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No after hours calls, but I still had to go back to the clinic late that night to check on this little guy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Thursday:</b> one call. The case was disturbing enough that I feel that it might be better not to write about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some things are best forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the upside, Monday’s parvo case was looking a lot better, and Tuesday’s HBC dog got its jaw fixed by the specialist.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Friday:</b> Cat fight with eye injuries: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An owner came home to find that their cat had returned from some sort of misadventure with a swollen eye. The eye looked pretty odd on physical exam, because the membranes around the eye were so enlarged that the eyeball itself was completely covered by puffy, pink tissue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell that it hadn’t been that way for long. I sedated the cat and found that some of the membranes were actually stuck to an abrasion on the eyeball. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I separated that, checked the eye again, and treated it with a painkiller and antibiotics. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it may sound odd, it is actually a very common type of injury.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The parvo puppy from Monday was doing well enough to go home Friday as well, feeling much better. Score one for the fluid pump.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Saturday:</b> A good day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We heard from Tuesday’s HBC dog, and it was back at home after being treated by the specialist. The cat with the eye injury went home looking better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cat’s owner even brought me a chicken biscuit for (second) breakfast as a thank you for seeing him the night before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had no idea how grateful I was for this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hosted a tour and Q+A session with a local Girl Scout troop just after we closed for business so there was no time for lunch in between.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The biscuit came in handy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an added bonus, the Girl Scouts gave me Thin Mint cookies (my favorite) as a thank-you for the tour, so I ate well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks, everybody!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Saturday night, I got a call from a family that was pet sitting a dog with a long-term illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog was not doing well. She had been diagnosed with cancer several months ago, but has had more than adequate quality of life up until now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things were changing now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the day, she had started having seizures, indicating that the tumor had likely reached the brain. I talked to the petsitter, but stopped short of taking any action until I could talk to the owner. The owners called me a few minutes later and we discussed what they wanted us to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were coming back into town in less than 24 hours, and they really wanted to see their pet again before they had to say goodbye. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog had been their companion for more than a decade. We settled on giving her a medication to eliminate any pain she was feeling and to stop the seizures. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hoped we could buy enough time to get them back into town to see her one last time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sunday:</b> I started off the morning following up with a case from Saturday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had run bloodwork on a sick dog during regular business hours on Saturday; the results were back from the lab Sunday morning. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kidney values were worse than I expected. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called the owner at about 8 AM, and things had not gone well overnight at home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We brought that pet in for treatment early Sunday afternoon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also took a call to arrange for the cremation of an elderly cat that had passed away peacefully during the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was at the clinic handling bloodwork and the cremation request, another family made the decision to let a pet go that was suffering from rapidly progressive heart disease.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mid-afternoon, I got a call from a lady who had taken over care for a VERY elderly dog after his owner had passed away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was having a rough time and had become dehydrated, had some vomiting troubles, and would not eat or drink. I could see that he had lost a significant amount of weight since I last saw him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was running a fever of 104, which explained a lot. We gave him a fever reducer and half a liter of fluids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talked about antibiotics and decided to give him some time to see what happens. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Given some other recent developments with him, it seems likely that he may have cancer. At his age, cancer is a tough diagnosis. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we do wind up losing him, I will say this: he has had a long life, and a good one.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So there it is, one week on call at Branchville Animal Hospital. Emergency work isn’t the most cheerful part of what we do- if anybody’s calling you after the clinic closes, then something has gone wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But thankfully, that’s just a small part of what veterinary medicine is to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside normal operating hours, I did routine surgeries, gave puppy shots, joked with clients, and wrestled with kittens. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are certainly worse jobs out there to be had... I’m happy with mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-32250397520504165882011-06-19T20:32:00.000-05:002011-06-19T20:32:54.300-05:00The Kindness of Strangers<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKkO-5qAUFk/Tf6hvgsdrbI/AAAAAAAAACk/5qhC2-EteGs/s1600/supplies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKkO-5qAUFk/Tf6hvgsdrbI/AAAAAAAAACk/5qhC2-EteGs/s320/supplies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>a small part of the supplies donated</em></div><br />
It’s been almost two months since the storms of late April that caused so much damage and loss of life in our area. Immediately after the storms passed, there were a group of people that stepped up to the plate and helped out local pets and their owners in different ways. Their kindness deserves some recognition, and I’d like to thank them publicly in this blog.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Right after the storms, we got busy fast. We took in a lot of boarders from storm-damaged homes and a few animals that had become injured by falling trees and flying objects. It was clients, not us, who came up with the idea of collecting supplies to send to harder-hit areas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good hearted people saw a way to contribute, and they made a difference. We had a few people come in within a day or two of the storm, but when we put a notice about being a collection point on the sign outside the clinic, the rate of donations really picked up. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The first things to come in were the basics- lots of food, cat litter, some water- all the things you would expect. Before it was over, I would guess that we took in about a thousand pounds of pet food. We also got a significant amount of treats, toys, carriers, and other sundry items as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sent it to a few different places. The majority of what was donated went to the Shoal Creek area via the Animal Shelter of Pell City and St. Clair County Animal Control. Some of the supplies went to Pleasant Grove via a buddy of mine who was doing work there at a distribution center. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Other clients knew that there would be needs outside the norm, and wanted to find a way to supply those as well. They asked if we would accept cash to help any animals that needed it. We established a benevolence fund with the money.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The very next day, a sick dog came in from the Shoal Creek area. He needed care, and his owner was trying to get back on his feet- his house had been destroyed, and he had been able to salvage very little. The money donated to the benevolence fund made it possible to get treatment underway for the medical issues the pup had and the surgery he needed. Serendipity is a wonderful thing- the solution arrived at the clinic before the problem did.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, to everybody who made a contribution- Thank you, on behalf of everyone helped out by what you gave. You made some dark days a little bit brighter.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">-RAB<o:p></o:p></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-58229567201616777952011-05-08T21:42:00.000-05:002011-05-08T21:42:25.105-05:00Scully, the World's Greatest Dog<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbb3or4Bnak/TcV7b2wssPI/AAAAAAAAACY/6iPIwq4flGo/s1600/May+2011+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbb3or4Bnak/TcV7b2wssPI/AAAAAAAAACY/6iPIwq4flGo/s320/May+2011+001.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><em>Scully, April 2011</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Scully was one of the first dogs we ever saw after we opened, back in 2005.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My professors in school would have described her as an Alabama Red Dog… her parentage would best be described as “undeterminable”, but that didn’t matter much. She was laid-back and sociable. We liked her because she was easy to work with, and she was a great companion. After a few visits, she usually pulled her owner, Mr. Pete, through the door so she could check out what was going on in the lobby when they arrived.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">She had a fairly normal medical history for a long time- ear infections, skin allergies, and the little things that happen from time to time when you’re a dog.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In 2007, things began to get unusual for her. She came to the clinic one day with profound pain in her pelvis and legs. She wasn’t the only one hurting. You could see it in Mr. Pete’s eyes- he was upset to see her in pain.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">We spent the next few weeks trying, with better success on some days than others, to control her symptoms. We took an X-ray of her lower back and found that she had some disc spaces that were abnormal. Due to extra bone formation between her last vertebra and her pelvis, a condition called lubosacral stenosis was high on the list of probable causes for her trouble. The hallmark sign of this disease is simply pain in the hips and legs, and Scully had it in spades. As the abnormal bone growth progresses, the space left for the spinal nerves to occupy shrinks. This puts pressure on the nerves that can gradually increase over time.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">We spent the next two years fighting bouts of pain periodically, with Mr. Pete as her advocate, trying different combinations of medications to allow her to live a comfortable life. I’m happy to say that over time, her symptoms have subsided to a great degree. I won’t tell you that I know for sure why that is, but I would guess that the disease stopped progressing and her body compensated for the problem. She needed less medication as the years went by, and she needed our help less frequently.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Last year, we got a phone call that we weren’t expecting. Mr. Pete, Scully’s best friend and the person who made sure she didn’t hurt, had passed away. I still remember reading his obituary in the local paper. It listed his survivors as his wife and daughter, as well as "the world’s greatest dog, Scully”.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">From that day on, Mr. Pete’s daughter took over Scully’s care. Scully continued on the same path as before with only occasional problems until August of last year. Scully's Mom scheduled an appointment for us to check out some lumps that had appeared. We didn’t think much of it at the time; Scully was hitting middle age and lumps are a fairly normal thing. What we found when she got to the clinic made my heart sink. Every lymph node in her body was several times the size it should have been. There are very few diseases that can do that to a dog. I talked to Scully’s Mom about sending off some samples to a lab to find out what it was, hoping that I was wrong about what I believed it was going to be. We collected samples from several of the swollen nodes, and sent Scully home with a promise to call as soon as we got the results back. I went to my office to do my medical notes for the day. When I pulled up her file, I typed this into her chart and hung my head:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><date day="6" month="8" year="2010"><span style="color: black;"><em>8-6-10</date>:<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> Enlarged lymph nodes full-body, sent off samples for cytology. Suspect lymphoma.</span></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><em>-RAB</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">When the biopsy came back a few days later, it confirmed lymphoma.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Lymphoma is one of the few types of cancer that I consider to be treatable in the general practice environment that most veterinarians, including myself, work in. Scully’s family elected to try chemotherapy, and I was glad. We’ve been through two rounds of chemotherapy with her so far, and are into a maintenance phase at the moment.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Chemo for Scully usually consists of placing an I.V. catheter and giving drugs though it, as well as giving medications by mouth. She has been a real trooper. Through most of the treatment, things have been uneventful. Early in the first round of treatment, she became severely ill and would not eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was not expecting this, because I’ve never seen a dog treated for lymphoma have side effects of that nature. We had to postpone treatment for a little while, but we resumed it and she has been doing great since. She’s had no nausea or any other significant side effects since late August of last year. Her quality of life (the one thing that determines whether or not chemotherapy is worthwhile in my mind) has been excellent. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have continued. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Now we see Scully every few weeks for treatment. She comes into the lobby looking for treats. Every time she finishes the I.V. portion of her meds, we open a fresh can of dog food. She sits on the table waiting for us to toss a piece into the air and she snaps it up when it comes close. Here’s a picture of her in action:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RVryo2xfhwU/TcV--JFz9rI/AAAAAAAAACc/OD0q_mGeQCU/s1600/May+2011+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RVryo2xfhwU/TcV--JFz9rI/AAAAAAAAACc/OD0q_mGeQCU/s320/May+2011+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">This picture shows the hallmarks of true excellence in tossed food catching.<br />
<br />
In the picture, only the head is blurred by motion. The lower body is stock still, providing the solid platform a professional food catcher needs to perform at their best. Note the blurred area right next to her mouth- it’s canned food in flight. For those of you keeping score at home, Scully’s current record for consecutive catches stands at 7. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In the spirit of full disclosure, we don't know what the future holds for Scully. Her cancer could stop responding to medication, or she could go into remission. For now, things are good- she's having no side effects from treatment. She feels just as good as she did before she developed cancer. We'll keep giving her treats as long as she cares to eat them. It makes her happy, and it makes us happy, too.<br />
<br />
-RAB</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-68257411185460949742011-04-05T18:28:00.000-05:002011-04-05T18:28:05.633-05:00Mikey Likes It! (funny things that dogs eat)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VHHdrMIaPNk/TZs5i5JNlDI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Xjy_D1erMXY/s1600/mikey.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VHHdrMIaPNk/TZs5i5JNlDI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Xjy_D1erMXY/s1600/mikey.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Remember this guy from those Life cereal commercials?)</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mikey had been coming to see us for a long time. He was a little white Schnauzer with an outgoing personality and a mischievous nature. Whenever his owner left for work, Mikey’s house became a playground.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finding inventive ways to land himself in the proverbial “doghouse” was a sport. I’ll start with a list of things that he ate that passed in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal</i> fashion:</span></div><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="circle"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Paper clips</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rubber bands</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Twist ties from bread bags</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Multiple lipstick cases (picture a white Schnauzer wearing red lipstick)</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mascara brushes</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Makeup sponges</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">3 doses of heartworm preventative at the same time</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">2 doses of flea control… wrapper, tube and all</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The number of items inside the house that he simply demolished would have landed him in jail for Felony Destruction of Property in all 50 states: the electric cord for the TV, doorstops, curtains, clothing, etc.. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing was off limits once the Better Angels of his Nature went off duty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">And through it all, his owner never disciplined him or fretted about the damage to her things in any way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved him unconditionally. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">One day, Mikey’s Mom came home from work and he didn’t come to the door to meet her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started searching through her house and found that he had been up his usual tricks in the kitchen, but this time he ate something that was a real problem. The owner found a half-eaten bottle of diet pills on the floor. This was about 10 years ago when stimulant heavy diet pills were more readily available.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mikey had eaten an unknown number of these pills, and he only weighed about 15 lbs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The owner called in from her car on the way to the clinic and told me what had happened, and that he was in bad shape. I was afraid to ask what that meant. I just told her to drive safe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">When she arrived, I was expecting to see Mikey demonstrate the kind of symptoms that stimulant poisoned dogs usually show- shaking, seizures, hyperexcitability, hypersensitivity to noise, etc. What I found when Mikey came in was that he was nearly in a coma… the exact opposite of what I expected.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">He was laying on his side, unable to rise, pupils dilated, breathing very shallow and rapid, and his tongue was a sickly shade of blue. Again, very different from a textbook case. While I was checking him out, his owner told me that she had found signs that he had been vomiting, tearing up her carpet, and scratching at her doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While he was known to be destructive, these were not the normal things he did when she was out of the house. </span><span style="font-size: large;">She had found him laying near-lifeless in her bathtub.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I started to wonder if I was on the wrong track. Maybe the diet pills weren’t the problem at all. Puzzled, I finished up the physical by listening to his heart, and then things began to make sense.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">His heart rate was well above 240 beats per minute, and the rhythm was off. Arrhythmias are a common finding in stimulant poisoning cases. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As for the rest of the physical, I could only figure that he had gotten into the pills early in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered what his day must have been like after the stimulants took effect... maybe running a 10K in laps around the couch, training for the Ironman Triathlon (which would explain his presence in the bathtub), and recreating Jennifer Beals’ Flashdance training routine. In my mind, he was wearing a headband and leg warmers with “What a Feeling” playing in the background.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">By the time he got to us, Mikey was simply exhausted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We put an IV catheter in him and started running fluids and lidocaine. The lidocaine got his heart into a better rhythm, and his tongue started to turn pink again. Overnight, we gave him more fluids and a mild sedative. By the next morning, he was bouncing around his cage in the treatment area, ready to take on the world again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We called Mikey’s owner, and she came to pick him up… with a brand new crate that was going to be his home while Mom was out of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, Mikey wound up locked up- but not because of property destruction. Due to his delinquency, he became a Ward of the Crate.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">-RAB</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-1136939798870862522011-03-08T22:18:00.003-06:002011-03-08T22:56:00.406-06:00Do Not Open This Door, No Matter What Happens....<div style="text-align: left;"><div align="center"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ow4pSCCOcUo/TXb-VkeggyI/AAAAAAAAACM/56Utf6yJwBw/s1600/lolcat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" q6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ow4pSCCOcUo/TXb-VkeggyI/AAAAAAAAACM/56Utf6yJwBw/s320/lolcat.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em></em></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em> (LOLcat, courtesy of <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/">http://icanhascheezburger.com/</a>)</em></span></span></span></div></div><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span> </pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Handling animals is a skill learned over time. I’ve got plenty of old scars to prove it. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Cats, when perturbed, can be the most difficult to get a handle on. I’ve got a couple of examples: </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I was working at my first job in a clinic when I was a kid, about 14 or 15 years old, in the not-so-bustling metropolis of <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Coldwater</city>, <state w:st="on">Alabama</state></place>. If you don’t know where that is, it’s right next to an even less bustling metropolis called <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Eastaboga</city>, <state w:st="on">Alabama</state></place>, which is my hometown. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Every summer, the vet I worked for conducted a mobile rabies vaccine clinic. The vet arranged a time to be at a place (like a school or park), and people drove out to meet him there and get a rabies vaccination for their pet. My job, as his assistant, was to do two things: draw up piles of vaccines on the drive between stops, and hold animals while they were injected by the vet. The difficult part of it was that we were outdoors. There were no walls to contain an animal that slipped the owner’s leash or bolted out of a carrier. They were just gone, unless we got lucky enough to catch them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">That particular day was a beautiful day to be working outside. Fresh air, no telephones, and bright sunshine. Nothing could be better. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">We had worked our way through a couple dozen dogs and cats when a very nice older couple walked up and asked if we could vaccinate their cat last, because it was extremely afraid of dogs. Sure thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After everybody else was gone, they dragged a terrified black and white tomcat out from under the seat of their Cadillac. I asked the owners if I could hold him while we gave the shot, and they were more than happy to hand him over. I was holding him at about hip level (we didn’t have a table to work on) as the vet gave the injection. I heard two things next. One was the click of the cover going back onto the needle as my boss capped it, and the other was my boss saying “Oh no…” </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I turned, thinking that he had stuck himself. Wrong. As I looked down, I saw that a stray dog had walked up on the scene to investigate the cat I was holding.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The stray looked up at me and saw the cat in my arms. His ears perked up, and you could see the thousands of years of cat-versus-dog animal instinct take control. He took a step forward. "WOOF!"</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">That was all it took to change the cat I was holding into a chainsaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear-fueled feline dug in his claws and spun on my hip, then clawed with all its might around my waist and up my back to get away from the dog. The vet was doing his best to frighten off the stray, and the cat was doing his best to get on top of the tallest object around.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Unfortunately, that object was my head.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I still had a grip on the cat, despite the fact that it was trying to remove my right ear. My boss was yelling at me by this point: “Let it go, son! Let it go!”. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to level with you: I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t have let go of the cat if I had tried. Instead, I staggered toward the Cadillac and (ahem) asked the couple to open it up. For some reason, they didn’t open the door- they opened the trunk. That was fine by me; I was in no position to be selective. I bent over into the trunk and peeled the cat off, flinging it inside. I reached up and slammed the trunk lid shut just before the cat could turn around and escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Then I saw my bloody handprint on the Cadillac trunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was bleeding badly enough from the various wounds that my boss put a towel under me on the truck seat to keep me from bleeding on his seat covers on the ride home. As teenagers are bound to do (so that they can tell the story on the internet 20 years later), I went home and counted the wounds with the help of my mom. She could see behind my ear and the back of my head, and I couldn’t. The tally was 72 punctures from toenails and teeth, and 36 claw marks. Yeah, I was on antibiotics for a little while. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">A more recent event: </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The other day, a feral cat was brought in for me to neuter as part of a Humane Society program. Standard procedure when these guys come in is to check to see whether they are boys or girls before anesthesia. Apparently, this cat found that objectionable because he slashed my hand and ran out of the cage in a blink. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He headed directly for my open office door (the same one that used to have the Justin Bieber poster on it, from an earlier blog...).</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I shut the door behind him, knowing that he was bottled up and couldn’t escape. I grabbed a leash and went inside, telling the rest of the staff not to open the door no matter what. They were more than happy to do just that..leaving the cat and I to battle it out. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">My office is not usually a tidy place, to say the least, but it’s amazing what a 5-minute cat rodeo can do to wreck a small space. I chased him around the office, where he showed off his Tony Hawk-like moves: frantically clawing his way up bare walls, then doing a 180 and waiting for gravity to return him to Earth so that he could do the same on the opposite wall. He ran across bookshelves. He turned over the computer monitor and wrecked potted plants. He basically knocked any object that was on a shelf onto the floor, then scrambled them all as he came through that area again on his many successive victory laps of the room. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Eventually, I captured him when he tried to hide behind a stack of post-it notes. From my perspective, the entire affair was a lot like the proverbial knife fight in a phone booth. It must have sounded that way to the three staffers who waited outside my office in the treatment area, if the looks on their faces when I came out were an indication.</span></pre><pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I don’t take it personally when a cat wrecks things, because that’s what cats do. However, the destruction in this incident was <strong><em>epic</em></strong>. Want proof? You can ask the staff what my office looked like (they’d love to tell you), or you can look at this picture of the aftermath taken by my wife: </span></pre></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_l6G5kPW_DY/TXbvBCgj2TI/AAAAAAAAACA/JOIJO3DRoiA/s1600/IMG_2495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_l6G5kPW_DY/TXbvBCgj2TI/AAAAAAAAACA/JOIJO3DRoiA/s320/IMG_2495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Despite his formidable escape efforts, the cat was captured and had surgery later that day. My office also ended up getting the cleaning that it needed. And I didn't even have to go on antibiotics this time.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">-RAB </span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></pre></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-75000387643789083822011-01-18T18:40:00.008-06:002011-01-19T06:14:11.990-06:00M.I.P. (vet school, dairy cows, & Justin Bieber- together at last)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gbCfI2fi-iU/TTYw6sdbgrI/AAAAAAAAAB0/g7EFRWljVBs/s1600/jersey+cow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gbCfI2fi-iU/TTYw6sdbgrI/AAAAAAAAAB0/g7EFRWljVBs/s1600/jersey+cow.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<pre><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Always be on the lookout for a wolf in cow’s clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what they look like right before they attack. (photo courtesy of travelblog.org)</span></i></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">When I write these blogs, I often think back to vet school often because I really enjoyed my time there. The last two years of vet school are undoubtedly the best, mainly because of the variety of experiences you have. In those two years, vet students rotate through different clinics and specialties such as Surgery, Small Animal Medicine, Large Animal Ambulatory, and Equine Medicine & Surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re doing practical work. You’re fixing things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re solving puzzles. Instead of sitting in a classroom or behind a microscope, you’ve got your hands on animals. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The “hands on animals” part is where the unpredictability lies, and nowhere is this more evident than in the Large Animal rotations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During this time, you spend a significant part of your day working on horses, cattle, sheep, llamas, goats, or whatever else may come along. You’re outside in the barns listening to your instructors talk you through milking cows, suturing up horses with barbed wire cuts, telling you how to avoid having the llamas spit on you, etc. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">But above all, you’re listening to them tell you how not to get “Mocked”. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A “Mocking” was the most dreaded thing that could happen to you on large animal rotations. It meant that you had been totally outsmarted by an animal and were being made to look like a fool. What made this even worse is that every clinician wore a radio, and whenever a student (or, for that matter, an entire group of students on a rotation) was getting Mocked, a radio call went out summoning all of the other students to the area where the drama was taking place. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The radio code for this was “M.I.P.”- Mocking In Progress. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being the object of an M.I.P. was undesirable, but being called to witness somebody else’s M.I.P. was the highlight of the week. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">One Fall afternoon, I was on equine rotation watching a subtly lame horse run to and fro between barns as I desperately tried to figure out where the problem was. There are a lot of reasons that I don’t work on horses. One of the biggest is that equine lameness has always baffled me. When a person who is good with horses tells me where the leg problem is, I figure that there are three possibilities:</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> 1) they’re really good,</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> 2) they could be making it up, or </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3) they might have magical powers.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Just when I was about to have to swallow my pride and tell my rotation mates that I could only tell that the limp was in one of the front legs, I heard our professor’s radio come to life.</span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“M.I.P at the dairy barn! M.I.P. at the dairy barn!” </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I had been rescued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All instruction, learning, and productive activity stopped immediately, and the whole group migrated over to the milking parlor to see what was up. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A circle of people had already gathered to see the spectacle. In the middle of the circle was an angry Jersey cow that had doubled back on the students trying to herd her into the parlor to be milked. She was trying to make a break for it and get back into the open pasture when she was intercepted by two of the students assigned to dairy rotation. They were trying to turn her around and get her into the barn. She was having none of it. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">When a cornered cow is angry, several things usually happen. When we arrived, she was spinning around wildly in circles looking for a way to evade the students trying to interfere with her escape plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While spinning, she was bellowing a low, drawn-out, loud moo. She was slinging snot and spit and manure in wide arcs around her as she turned, like a lawn sprinkler filled with… well… the kind of things cows are typically filled with. The cascade was soaking bystanders and students who ventured too close to the whirling beast. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Eventually, the two saturated and frustrated students literally pushed the cow in the direction they wanted her to go (as dairy cattle go, Jerseys are small). Half a minute later, she had her head in a feed bucket and was eating away as if nothing had ever happened. With the standoff over, the people and cow involved got a standing ovation from the assembled crowd, then it was back to business as usual. We went back over to the equine barns. There was a lame horse waiting for me there, and I hadn’t figured out the puzzle yet. </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">That was about 12 years ago, but the memory of a Mocking stays with you. In practice here in Odenville, other kinds of Mockings happen occasionally. This one was pretty good, so I figured I’d take a picture and share it with all of you. <span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I had been gone for a couple of days during the holidays and came back into town to find this: </span></span><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gbCfI2fi-iU/TTYx-pzAW9I/AAAAAAAAAB4/R9qjt90inpE/s1600/office+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gbCfI2fi-iU/TTYx-pzAW9I/AAAAAAAAAB4/R9qjt90inpE/s320/office+door.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">In my absence, one of the BAH crew had turned my office door into an homage to Justin Bieber. We’ve had a lot of fun with it. We still occasionally add new images to it, but like all good things, it must eventually come to an end. I figured that I’d share it before the magic is gone… </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;">-RAB </span></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></pre><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"></div></pre><pre><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </pre>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-26919559091032021782011-01-12T13:13:00.000-06:002011-01-12T13:13:25.139-06:00Wide Open!<em>We are fortunate to have a guest blogger for this post, Dr. Wendy Fraser. Dr. Fraser is currently out on maternity leave but left us this blog to enjoy in her absence. Congrats again to Dr. Fraser and her family on their new baby girl!</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">I am a huge television fan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is truly one of my guilty pleasures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the kids are finally in bed I like to sit down, relax and let my mind focus on the intriguing plots of Mentalist, House, Criminal Minds and the like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My selections are admittedly intellectual junk food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do I like these shows so much?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like them because in one short hour a mystery is solved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is always a rewarding answer at the end of an hour, everything is neatly wrapped up and everyone is satisfied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That rarely seems to happen in real life, particularly in veterinary medicine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the fantasy that everything has an answer and if that answer can be found in under an hour so much the better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Real life is much more frustrating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, one Tuesday morning when working at another clinic in the </span><city><place><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Birmingham</span></place></city><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"> area, an owner called about a sick German Shepherd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The owners were concerned because the dog would not come out of the dog house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The receptionist recommended that the owners bring the dog in for an exam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went about the usual workday until late afternoon when the receptionist said, “I think that sick dog that wouldn’t get out of the dog house is here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no clients in the lobby so I was curious as to how she knew that that particular dog was here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I walked up to the front lobby and looked out the window I knew how she knew: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a truck had pulled into the parking lot and on the back of the truck was a HUGE doghouse.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">The driver of the truck and his companion had begun to unload the dog house and carry it into the clinic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog that wouldn’t get out of the doghouse was now in the lobby, doghouse and all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">I started to take a medical history from the owners. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">How long had the dog been in the dog house?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two days. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Has he eaten anything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Does the dog ever run loose?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Inside the dog house was a 70lb, 3 year old German Shepherd lying on his side, his eyes were unfocused but he was breathing steadily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the side of the dog were some scrambled eggs and there were two pieces of toast on top of the dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the top off of the dog house, dusted off the eggs and toast and moved the dog to an exam table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, the dog appeared to be in great health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a healthy weight, had no skin lesions, was staring straight ahead and breathing deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the vital signs appeared normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do I know about the dog at this point?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was young, was healthy three days ago, doesn’t have an appetite for eggs and toast, and is in a coma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was all the information I could gather and when presented with a case such as this you have to consider all factors, even beyond what the owners tell you (for any other TV junkies out there, think… House.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These owners would like to do whatever they can to help the dog.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">At this point, my diagnosis of the dog is open, WIDE OPEN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means that I have no idea what is wrong with this dog!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Typically in a case like this Dr. Bean, Dr. Compton and I put our heads together and come up with what is called a differential list of possible causes and try to pick diagnostic tests that will help to rule in or out any of the illnesses on the differential list. That’s exactly what I started to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most likely causes in this case were trauma or toxins because the dog wasn’t skinny or sickly looking, indicating that it had not been ill for long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked great and was in fact a beautiful dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">It had been almost an hour since he arrived at the clinic and I was still not close to solving this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike on those medical dramas on TV, dozens of assistants had not appeared to take samples and whisk my patient away for tests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drew blood samples to send to the lab and treat for dehydration, infection and inflammation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My only options now were to wait until the next day for his blood work results and monitor him for responses to my treatments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">The blood work results from the next day were normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tried every reasonable course of treatment but nothing that I did seems to change the dog’s condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 3 days the owners elected to euthanize him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many, many hours were spent thinking about this dog and there was no satisfying answer at the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that we have are unanswered questions, frustration and sadness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">So, how do I cope with cases like this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go home, put the kids to bed and watch an hour of junk!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7181695670955703360.post-3725091797631443122010-12-24T22:17:00.000-06:002010-12-24T22:17:49.319-06:00You bettah sew dat up, Boy Part 2<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s another incident from my time with Dr. Livingston…</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was a brilliant stroke of luck that the metro Atlanta practice I was working at was right next door to a Mexican restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just finished another delicious lunch there, heavy on the sour cream and spicy beef, and was walking back to the clinic with a lovely carbonated beverage in hand when a car tore into the parking lot and went sideways into a parking space. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The occupants of the car sprung out of both sides, grabbed a cat carrier out of the back seat, and hurried inside.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I picked up the pace and hit the side entrance to the clinic. Bob The Tech was already looking for me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You gotta see this one, Doc. The owner thinks a bee did it” was all he said.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The two of us headed into the exam room, where the rattled owners pulled a cat out of the carrier sitting on the table. The problem was obvious as soon as Bob The Tech turned the cat’s head toward me. The left eye had ruptured and was shriveled up like a raisin sitting there in the eye socket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fluid that should have been contained inside the eye had drained down onto the cat’s cheek and dried there. I had read about these injuries before and the recommendation was always the same. General practitioners were recommended to remove the eye or refer to a specialist to see if some kind of salvage would be possible. The odds on any kind of functionality are near zero, and the odds on complications are very high.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I talked to the owners about options. Their major concern was the way that their 4 year old child would react to seeing his buddy with one eye. In fact, the cat had been playing out in the front yard with the child when the trouble began. The owners had heard the cat howl, and saw a bee buzz away from its face when they turned to see what had happened.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even though removing the eye seemed the first choice for treatment, the clients simply weren’t ready to own a one-eyed cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had turned down every other option that I had offered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just about that time, I heard the side door open, and knew that Dr. Livingston had just come back from his lunch. I asked the owners to excuse Bob The Tech and myself while we stepped out to clean the cat’s cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This gave me a chance to get a better view of the wounded eye … and to get some advice from Dr. L.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I told him what was going on as he calmly sipped his sweet tea. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we showed him the cat, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he looked at the eye, thought for about ten seconds, and then looked at me and said (drumroll, please) “What would happen if you just sewed dat up? You can tell ‘em dat it might not work, and they’d have to take the eye out anyway, but it would give them some time to think it over.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he had suggested was suturing the lids shut over the damaged eye, forming a biologic bandage, and giving Mother Nature a little time to do her thing.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once again bowing to superior wisdom (I had been out of graduate school less than a year at this point), I went back into the room and talked to the clients. They immediately decided to give it a try. The name of this procedure is tarsorrhaphy. I have thought about nominating it for the “Most Difficult Word in the English Language to Spell” award. Pronouncing it is a lot easier: tar-sore-a-fee, if you’re from the South like me.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bob The Tech and I sedated the cat and started prepping the eye for surgery. When we were just about ready to start suturing, I noticed something odd about the eyeball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a little splinter-like structure adhered to the middle of it, just to the side of the point on the cornea where it ruptured. I looked at it under a microscope, and it was a bee stinger. The owners were right: a bee sting had been the cause of the trouble. We sutured the lids together, started the cat on antibiotics, and hoped for the best.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ten days later, the family came back with their cat for suture removal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was expecting to see a ruined eye when I pulled the stitches out. Instead of seeing a shriveled raisin sitting in the socket, I uncovered a fully re-inflated eye that was apparently not painful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The entire cornea (the part on the front of the eye that is supposed to be clear to let light through to the inside) was a milky white from being covered. I shined a light into the eye and there was no response- the pupil stayed the same size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told the owners that while the eye had returned to its normal shape, the vision in that eye was gone. Considering that we expected the cat to completely lose the eye, the owners were happy with the outcome, overall. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked them to come back in a few days for me to check things over.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Three days later, they were back in the office. My appointment notes from the receptionists said “Owner believes that cat can see.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was skeptical. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went into the room and looked at the eye: almost all of the white discoloration was gone, and there was only a single small scar surrounded by clear cornea again. I shined a penlight in the eye, and the pupil constricted like a normal pupil should... the interior structures of the eye were working. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved my hand toward the eye to see if the cat flinched or blinked, and it did. You could have knocked me over with a feather at this point. The cat went from having a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>totally wrecked eyeball with little chance of recovery to having a functional eye. It appeared that everything was going to be fine.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">While I tried to recover from the astonishment, the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cat just sat on the table, angrily switching its tail from side to side, wondering why I had been so rude as to shine a penlight in its eye.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks again, Dr. Livingston.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Merry Christmas, everybody!</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-RAB</span></div>Dr. Beanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03704802056211504300noreply@blogger.com1