Chickens with their insides on the outside, cardboard x-rays and funisitis!

Well, we're already nearly at the end of January - can't believe it! It's been quite a busy time, what with working, and then helping out (for all those vets out there, I just know you're going to raise your eyebrows at the next bit!) at Outpatients!  Now for those of you who didn't have to work at Outpatients during your final clinic year, let me exam.  Outpatients is like hell on earth when you're a student - it's like the clinic that students are most afraid of, because you're unleashed on the general public, having been cossetted away with your books and your practicals for the last 5 years, and now, all of a sudden, you are expected to actually deal with clients and their animals (which, more often than not, are trying to bite you/scratch you/peck you), do full clinical exams and, most terrify of all, make an actual DIAGNOSIS and dispense treatment!! So basically, it's like a real vet.  But it's scary when you're a student!  And to make sure that the students make roughly the correct diagnosis and dispense the RIGHT medication (most specifically, the dose of said medication!), there is a clinician in charge, in this case, me!  To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why clients come to Outpatients because a consult will usually take about an hour with students, since they need to check out the patient, do various things like bloodsmears and stuff, discuss with the clinician about the case, go back and ask the client the questions that the clinician asked that they didn't know the answers to... etc etc. Then the clinician needs to check the animal and then discuss treatment options with the student... you see what i mean??!!!  Ok, I think that you get the gist!

I was on Outpatients a few weeks ago when another clinician phoned to warn me that some friends of hers were on their way with a chicken (!) and this was not just any chicken, this was a chicken that they had raised from an egg!  Ok, so the fact that the chicken was one day old seemed beside the point! They had raised it from an egg!!!  What she was trying to impress upon me, was the fact (apart from the fact that they had raised it from an egg... did I mention that?!) that these people did not have children. (which is vet lingo for - these people think of their animals as their children, and as such, may be very adverse to you doing ANYTHING to the aforementioned pet that may involve any perceived discomfort, such as taking the temperature or giving it an injection for instance.  And is also vet lingo for - this animal is probably very insecure because it doesn't realise it's a dog, it thinks it's a person and as such, WILL try and bite you if you so much as look at it askance, let along try and actaully examine it!) And the woman had dropped the chicken (never a good thing) and now all its guts were hanging out (also, never a good thing!).  Oh, and the owner was now hysterical. Well, forewarned is forearmed, but i wasn't expecting quite that level of hysteria!!!  They rushed in, clutching a small box containing, I presumed, the chicken, thrust it at me shouting, 'you must do something!!!! DO SOMETHING!!!!'  Ah.  So I carefully raised the lid of the box, confirmed what i had already been told, adjusted my face into its most sincere and apologetic visage, and started with,'I'm so sorry, but ' and the woman completely cut me off and said that I had to do something, anything!!!! She said I hadn't even examined it properly! (Lady, all your chicken's guts are hanging on the outside of it's body, and it'a a chicken and it's only 1 day old... I have examined it properly!)  I tried to explain just how bad it was to have your insides on the outside, infection, blah blah blah, but she wasn't having ANY of it!  Then the husband started telling me about never giving up and how he had rescued a dog that was on the brink of death, and had cared for it and looked after it for months while it recovered. etc etc.  So eventually, completely bemusedly, I found myself agreeing to anaethetise the chicken and have a proper look.  And yes, the students did all laugh when i told them we were going to anaethetise the chicken!!!  Which we did, and saw that there really was nothing that we could do.  By the time I went back out to the owner, she had calmed down somewhat and I managed to convince them that putting the little chicken to sleep was really the kindest thing to be done.

Then there was another case of a dog that had been hit by a car - so the students and I examined it and decided to take an x-ray.  So we work out the exposure factors, get an x-ray cassette out, position the animal; don protective gear, take the x-ray and I asked the students if they would be ok to develop the x-ray, which they assured me they were.  So off they went to the dark room, and the x-ray came out fine.  Now, while in the dark room, you have to reload the cassette with a new film, which the students had done and we decided to take another x-ray.  Same procedure and students, pottered off back to the dark room.   After about a minute, I hear this odd beep, which the automatic developer makes when it's not happy.  Then silence, then this beep again. Then the students muttering to eachother, then another beep.  So, unable to contain my curiosity anymore, I ask them if everything is ok?  So there is a short silence, and one of the students says that the developer won't take the x-ray?!!  Now, this is the first time that this has happened, so I think that i check this out for my self, so I asked them to reload the x-ray in the cassette, then i can go into the dark room and can see what's happening. So there is a lot of shuffling, another short, poignant silence and then one of the students says hang on, they've figured out the problem and they both emerge from the dark room.  Turns out that when they replaced the x-ray film after the first x-ray, they replaced it with the cardboard that is the box of films to provide support!!! So we had x-rayed a piece of cardboard, which was why the developer wanted none of it!!!! 

And finally, I was studying for my horse lectures the other day (pregnancy and birth in the mare) and I came across the word "funisitis".  Now isn't that one of the oddest types of infection you've ever heard of??  Turns out it's infection of the umbilical cord.  There you go, random fact for the day - try and squeeze that into a conversation or a game of scrabble!!!

Dead Buzzards, midwifery and dog's balls

Dear All,

 

Well, it's been a busy few weeks - there are signs of Spring peaking through everywhere... daffodils mainly!  And the clocks are supposed to go back (or is it forward??? Argh!) tomorrow and then it's officially "British Spring Time" (Seriously, that's what it says on the calendar - not sure about other countries! ;-) )  However, as I look out the window this morning, there is bright sunshine, with big flakes of snow coming down....  there are clouds, they just don't seem to be where it's actually snowing!  Oh, and it's 3 degrees with a "real feel temperature" of about -6 later... can't wait.

 

We had the police in last week - no no, they didn't come to arrest anyone, they'd bought in a dead buzzard.  Yup, you did read that right, a dead buzzard.  So there is this policeman standing at the front desk, in all his official uniform and he's holding a frozen, dead buzzard. No, i was not able to resuscitate the unfortunate bird - they just wanted it x-rayed to check if it had been shot!  Unfortuntately, the game keepers around here (not such a gross generalisation, I'm afraid) tend to view any animal that is not a grouse, pheasant or partridge (the last two being shipped in in their thousands as day old chicks to provide something sporting for the "guns" to take potshots at when the "Glorious 12th" of August comes round) as vermin, which needs to be eradicated at all costs... even if they are a protected species.  So the policeman had to check that there were no bullets/pellets in the buzzard.  There weren't any, so it was then being sent for toxicology to check if it had been poisoned... they take these things very seriously up here!  I know, everyone from SA is raising their eyebrows and going "they have time and resources to investigate bird poisonings????"

 

Was on call last weekend, and was kept very busy, mainly playing midwife to various animals!  My first call was to a calving, which went suprisingly smoothly!  I think the main reason for this was that the farmer had recently been run over by one of his own cows and had hurt his back, so he hadn't tried to do anything with this calving.  Paul, one of the other vets, had been up to see this farmer quite soon after he'd been hurt, and he said that the farmer would suddenly get a twinge of sharp pain, and start f-ing and blinding, then just as suddely stop, and apologise for his Tourette's episode!  Anyway, after getting the calf out, the farmer asked me to go and see a ewe that he thought had lambs in her that had died.  So we go upto the lambing shed, which is quite a decent setup, all the sheep in neat pens, walkway down the middle, hot water - pretty luxurious as lambing sheds go.  Anyway, set about checking out the ewe, and because I was concentrating pretty hard, I initially didn't notice the music that was reveberating around the shed, until Barry Manilow started crooning and I looked up to see the most enormous boombox positioned on the shed wall, connected to a loudspeaker!  I'm not sure what the sheep make of all that - I'm sure they need something soothing and restful... don't think whale sounds would quite do the trick, but maybe something similar???!!!! 

 

Then had an older lady come in with an ancient samoyed - big, fluffy white thing, not unlike a canine version of a sheep.  So I go through the pleasantries, and then ask what the problem was with the dog.  And the owner says that he's been "not quite right in himself" recently, hasn't been eating, and has been walking a bit oddly with his backlegs.  She also thinks there's a problem with his balls.  Now, it is a little bit disconcerting to hear a rather prim and proper old lady say there's a problem with a dog's balls - usually they just go, "there's a problem....you know, down there" and gesticulate vaguely at the back end of the dog!  So I got over my initial suprise and lift the dog's backleg, and my oh my hat was there a problem with this dog's balls!!!  Well, one ball in particular, which was the size of a grapefruit and rock hard!  No wonder the poor thing was having trouble walking!  With that thing hanging in the breeze!  Anyway, we mercifully castrated him and he walked out of the surgery a much happier bunny!

 

The Birds and the Bees!!!

Apologies for the time lapse between emails - life just somehow gets in the way.  We're steamrolling towards winter already up here... nights closing in, a bit of a chill on the wind, although, let's face it, it was never what i might call, "hot" this "summer!" The 1st of September came and went and I told everyone that I met on that day that it was the 1st day of Spring! And when they looked at me slightly bemusedly, I had to inform them that it was the 1st of Spring in the Southern Hemisphere!  Anyway, I'll get over it!

 

Have had a few "birds and the bees" moments these last few weeks; firstly there was a lady who came in with her two cats, and as she's hauling them out of the basket, she informs me that she wormed them just last week, and now they had become unbelievably fat... now, my brain was in hyperdrive trying to work out a possible correlation between worming and obesity, until I glanced down at the nearest cat... 'Mam, that cat's not fat, she's pregnant! Oh, and so is this one!'  And there were these two, heavily pregnant, rugby balled shaped kitties, waddling round the consult room. 'But how did that happen?' the client asked.  'Um, well, you see,' I started, thinking 'oh my goodness, tell me i don't have to explain all that to this grown woman,' at which point she hurriedly interrupted me and said that she did actually know how it happened. Phew, thank goodness for that!

 

A few weeks later I had a German Shepherd puppy in for his first vaccination, and the owner and his young (+/- 8 years old - i'm not very good at age estimation in children!) son brought the pup in.  So I did my whole routine check, and when I felt to check if the testicles had descended, there was only one little one there... so I had a good feel (hey, it's important vet stuff, ok?! ;-) ) and still only one.  So I said to the owner, 'I'm afraid he's only got one descended testicle,' at which point the son pipes up, 'What's a testicle?'  So I smiled at the dad and said, 'I'll leave that for you to explain, shall I?'

 

And then, just last week, a very nice Polish lady bought her collie in, and it was limping rather badly. Anyway, I lifted it onto the table, and was just asking a few questions about the history, when she says, 'I'm not sure if it's relevant, but she had sex recently.' Ah, now I have to say that i've heard sex called by many euphemisms in my brief history as a vet, but no one's just come out and said it!!!  So I nodded, and said that it was very relevant (but possibly didn't have anything to do with the limp!).

Ok, enough waffling for one day. 

Fancy a Shag anyone?!

No no, it's all above board for any of you who were wondering!  We were presented with a Shag (the seabird - you know, looks a bit like a cormorant, but with a white throat.  Honestly, these British bird names - Tits and Shags... I'm sure Freud would have rather alot to say about all that!), sorry, where was i, get sidetracked!  Oh yes, we were presented with a shag the other day, by a "concerned member of the public."  Now, I do think that I'm getting grumpier and less tolerant as I get older (must be the the 30-ies!) but who chases down a seabird, who was probably just minding it's own business and drying it's wings on a rock somewhere; bundles it up in a jacket and then brings it to the local vet, so that they now have to worry about it, while Joe Soap can just wonder off, warm and fuzzy in the knowledge that they're "saved" some wildlife.  Needless to say, the nurse who then had to clean guano off the kennel, was not impressed, and neither was the SSPCA inspector who then had to drive all the way from the North Coast to fetch the aforementioned shag.

 

Talking off "concerned members of the public" we had another one (a pair, in fact), a few months ago, who were clearly on holiday. Now, I don't say that disparagingly, but people up here are generally, on the whole, pretty sensible, and about as far from bunny huggers as you would be able to get on a scale of 1 to 10. So when someone phones up out of hours, completely hysterical about a myxie bunny (more about that in a sec) that they've found at the side of the road, and which they think has been hit by a car, you just know that they're not from around here!!!  My suspicions were confirmed when they arrived at the surgery in their little convertible sports car (no offense to anyone with a convertible, and in Africa, where there is actually some sun, i can see the point, but in Scotland, where 'scattered showers with outbreaks of sunshine is considered good weather' people who drive convertibles generally have more money than sense, and are not viewed in a particularly kind light by the locals) The wife had a headscarf wrapped around her head doing a Jackie O or Brigit Jones impression, you pick, and was cradling this bunny which clearly had myxomatosis (really nasty disease that was introduced to Britain to control the rabbit population - possibly from Australia, but I'm not entirely sure.  it makes their eyes swell shut, and is generally quite horrendous. There's no cure, and the kindest thing is euthanasia)  So had to explain to them the ins and outs and that the kindest thing for "bun bun's" was really euthanasia.  Hope it didn't ruin their holiday. 

 

And one more wildlife story - our local marine mammal medic got a call the other day to say that a very sick grey seal pup was been brought from Stornoway and needed a lift up to the North Coast.  Now, my geography is not great, but to give you some idea, Stornoway is on the Isle of Lewis, which is one of the "Western Isles" so called because they're off the west coast, and people like things to be simple and descriptive up here!  Ok, so for the seal to get to here, it would need to go on the ferry (yes, i know, sounds bizarre, hey?  This is a seal for goodness sake - they swim!) and then be driven to here, where it could then be taken up to the North Coast.  Just for the seal to get here from Stornoway was a trip of about 220 miles (+/- 500 km!!!!).   Anyway, the medic popped in to the vets on his way past, and I had a quick look at the seal, and it wasn't looking particularly lifelike to me!  "Seals can hold their breath for 20 minutes" was bandied about, but i still had my suspicions that mr seal had shuffled off this mortal coil at some point in his rather long journey!  Apparently the lady who had driven the first leg of the road journey had heard the seal 'let out a long sigh' shortly before handing it over. Ah, that would probably be that then.  So needless to say, the seal didn't make the epic journey from the back end of beyond.