Adventures Of A Veterinarian

Yesterday a family surrendered a young rabbit with GI stasis. One of my techs wanted to try medical management, so we started a medical plan, with multimodal pain approach, fluid therapy, etc. This morning the rabbit had taken a turn for the worse, so we discussed a terminal exploratory, with the off chance we find a problem to fix.

We went into this knowing the rabbit would likely be euthanized, but it gave the entire team learning opportunities.

She was given opiates and multimodal pain relief. We got to practice IV catheter placement on critical rabbits. We got to practice intubation. I got to practice opening the abdomen (of critical note, I nicked the bowel, and learned immensely about my approach from that).

The rabbit would not have survived even a perfect surgery. The gut was too far gone. We euthanized on the table. My entire hospital stopped what they were doing to learn as much as they could from the rabbits body. We did a full necropsy on the table.

Then we thanked the rabbit, for giving us a crucial learning opportunity, from disease management, to knowing what it looks like when “it’s time”. We improved our catheters, our handling, our pain management, our surgery.

Thank you, little bunny. Now the world has the opportunity to know what you provided all of us. Skills and judgement that cannot come from books, only the experience you provided.

I was leaving late, after we closed, and there was a truck in the lot with a panicked young girl. Her friends dog was suspected to have been hit by a car, and was in critical condition with a severe back injury. They wanted to euthanize, but had been struggling to find some place affordable. The friend couldn’t have been more than 12, really from where I was sitting they both looked like just kids. I got the bill to under $90, and they found a rescue to help cover costs. There was nothing I could do to save him, I had no help to move him inside, and he was so, so painful. She told me about his story, and the hero he was. He had been scent trained, and found lost people. He had been a brave firefighter. He was deeply loved, and the kid that loved him was so tough. She kept an even voice, tears rolling, smiling while talking about him, her friend talking with the rescue; they both wanted and needed to do the right thing for him.

The truck bed didn’t open, so I climbed in back. I haven’t done many solo euthanasias off the needle. What if I can’t find a vein? How do I use sedation and not charge them for doing the painfully right thing?

I find the vein, release the tourniquet. We tell him how good he is, how he is loved, how he is a hero. And his pain is over.

I was asked to do an in home wellness for a group of cats. Home visits for cats isn’t really the norm, but as one of the only clinics that offer it as a service, I get a lot of wellness house calls for small animals.

My technician and I arrive at a smaller home, greeted by friendly residents, and scattering population of cats. It’s 3 rabies vaccines and one injury exam. The first 2 cats are unhappy but workable if you’re very fast and good at wrapping burritos. The last wellness vanished. Gone. 2 of the humans were trying to convince him to come out from under a bed, so we set our sites on the rough and tumble tomcat with an injury. He didn’t need to vanish, he could fight like hell. So he got a nice lil squeeze and some drugs while we headed to the garage (the new location of the slipperiest cat) to let the drugs do their magic.

We wait outside the door for them to convince the cat the strangers aren’t outside. We get the go ahead to come in, towel at the ready. We got the towel on the ground, the cat soon to follow. We went to wrap and *poof*, the owner had a handful of fluff and there was no cat. No one really even saw which way he went. So we had the discussion of how it’s not fair to the owners to be scratched and not fair to terrorize the cat. I made some recommendations for pre meds, and scheduled a follow up.

Tomcat was still peeved but unable to move, so we took our time cleaning up his injury and setting him up with some antibiotics.

3 days later we returned. This time benefitted with a lot of gabapentin. Tomcat didn’t even care we looked at him to recheck him, so long as he had snacks and we didn’t pick him up. Never seen a cat take an 18g needle for a thick antibiotic and not even flinch.

The magician cat was unfortunately still not having it, but this time we were able to actually see him vanish. I slowed him down a solid 50%.

It was vaccine time for a couple very friendly backyard pet piggies. They had outgrown a reasonable trip in a car, so I was called out for some vaccines. When we arrived, the sow was in their enclosure and the barrow was wandering around, snacking on cucumber and carrots, with a rope harness.

I made my hellos, and the pigs were very friendly and allowed petting and, shockingly, the fast majority of an exam. Pigs are notoriously challenging to examine. They don’t like restraint and they’re crazy strong for their size. These pigs were friendly enough to hang around for an exam… for the low low price of baby carrots. Even let me do abdominal palpation.

Per the owners, they had decided to try the harness today to make things easier. The barrow didn’t mind the rope dragging behind him at all. I explained to the owners the pig boards, how we will use them to corner one at a time, and the get the vaccine done fast. The owner agrees and picked a spot he liked for the cornering. He then picked up the leash to direct the pig to the corner.

That’s when the pig noticed he no longer had complete autonomy.

I’ve seen some pretty impressive meltdowns from toddlers in a Walmart. Like I get it. It’s a very stimulating store and there’s toys and favorite snacks. Tired, angry children having a category V meltdown had absolutely nothing on this pig. It took all my strength not to laugh. I know this owner meant well, but trying a harness for the first time today was most definitely not the choice I would have made. The pig started by running to the end of the leash back and forth, shrieking with everything a pig can muster (iykyk). When that didn’t get him the result he wanted, he tried running in circles and tried to pull the owner around, still testing the limits of his larynx. He took a running start, hit the end of the leash, and acquired vertical momentum in such a way that he hovered an INSANE amount of time; his ass 3 feet of the ground, his stubby little legs flailing with everything they had, screaming, just stationary in the air. Pigs really can fly. He then landed on his ass and flipped over. He proceeds to jump up and do it again, which was hilarious. It’s been about 40 seconds since the owner dared touch the leash. I’m not even sure what to do, so I grab my tech and we take the pig boards over. The owner drops the leash, and the pig makes an escape from us. We get him cornered against the fence, only to initiate the screaming again. He slams himself into the fence, which gives a frightening amount. I will not let this pig escape: I have zero desire to chase him down the road. So I have the absolute audacity to touch the end of that leash as he pushes into the fence again. Next thing I know I’m looking a pig in the eye as it is flying and screaming at me. I’m 5’8, and only bent down a little to grab the leash and stand halfway back up. And he’s looking me dead in the eye. He lands on the ground and makes another go of it. I slipped the pig board between him and the fence, and he escapes back in the yard. We finally managed to get him triangled between two pig boards and the house. The wife then runs outside with a whole bag of carrots. She dumps the carrots in front of the pig, and he immediately calms down and starts snacking.

“Ok. That was exciting. What a meltdown. Just be prepared, he won’t like the needle poke much and may start screaming again, luckily I’m pretty fast”.

The owners understood.

The pig didn’t even notice the needle. He had an unparalleled temper tantrum, literally levitated for several seconds, and all he needed was carrots. Unreal. He was a little bruised but overall just fine. Then we moved on to his housemate. There was some discussion of pig boards and such, “well, carrots worked last time. Let’s see if she just lets me do it for a snack”.

Nearly full exam (she wasn’t a fan of some things), a cucumber, a poke, and not a peep.

“Sorry, I curse like a sailor in surgery”.

“ Really???” (Incredulous).

Then, my tech: “oh yeah, her favorite word is the “F” word”.

“And whore, don’t forget whore”.

I had the absolute AUDACITY to comment on my surgical progress mid-surgery.

Well, when I say I got a lesson worth remembering…

My first surgery of the day was an obese pregnant spay. Went well, but I hated it. The dog was made of crisco and due to her pregnancy there was more bleeding. Everything was slimy. Every blood vessel was massive. She did well and recovered fine.

My second spay was a much, much smaller dog at a healthy weight. I was EXCITED for this one. I was timing myself to get near 20 minutes. The sooner I’m a faster surgeon, the better for my patients. Less time, less trauma, less anesthesia.

She opens like a cat (love cat surgery, hate closing cat skin). Beautiful. Shiny. Very small fat layer. I was chatting with my tech about a nightmare I had where I had to spay a rabbit (literally so delicate, so fragile, I’m terrified to try it). Things are going well. First pedicle, down. Clean. Very little bleeding from anywhere. Hello little spleen, pardon my reach.

Then it happened.

“This is going so much nicer than the last one”

Big. Mistake.

Suddenly, I can’t get the other side of the uterus. It’s RIGHT there yet here I am wrestling colon. Finally get it and wouldn’t you know it, I tied her body wall into the pedicle. Checked twice, didn’t catch it, cut, found it. Reclamp, fight with the tiniest amount of tissue to get another tie on it, success. Then her blood pressure comes up, and her skin incision starts bleeding, clogging my view. Great. Tear the ligament. Some little ligament bleeder goes to TOWN. Clamp it. DAMN CLAMP POPS OFF TWICE. It’s fat and a blood vessel come on. It’s not that thick and there’s zero tension.

Finally get to the uterine body. Almost there. Clamp. Build my knot. Pull. Straight through the uterus. I could see uterus on both sides of my knot. Dammit. It’s ok, this day had to come. I had to pull too hard to remember APPROPRIATE tissue handling. No bleeding, so the knot is holding all the blood vessels. Just gotta not panic, and clamp a little lower. But I can’t GET any lower. I can’t pull up, I’d risk tearing what’s left, I keep pinching body wall and skin where it’s at, so make a bigger incision (so long glorious 2.5 cm incision). And there’s another skin bleeder! And my blade is dull! AND THERES THE COLON HANGING OUT ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THR UTERUS AND RIGHT IN THE DAMN WAY. “Don’t panic. Just fix it. Don’t panic. Just fix it”.

I panicked. Called in my mentor.

My dude is cool as a cucumber. “Just open her up another quarter inch. Now clamp the other direction, and not very tight”.

The other direction. F*cking brilliant. Duh. No skin to pinch if I’m going WITH the incision as opposed to perpendicular to it.

Clamp on. Knot built. “Now very gentle. You know it’s friable”. Juuust enough to see it blanch. “You’re fine”.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t panic for the first 3 minutes. And I can tell you exactly where it all went wrong”

“Hmm?”

“I commented on how well it was going”

“Don’t discuss the surgery until after the surgery” and he walked out.

Me: “… did you just say onsior (on-see-or) as onsoir (on-swar)?”

Also me: doing the surgery on the outside testicle while my mentor does the sneaky testicle

Got 2 sutures on the spermatic cord, one on the cremaster for funsies (would love to have used a big chompy clamp like normal but here we are). Basically a slightly modified 3 clamp open castration with a scrotal ablation. I cut between the clamp. My face gets sprayed.

Me (to tech): “Tell me there’s blood on my face”

“What?”

“Tell me there’s blood. On my face. Please”

“No your good”

“Damnit”

“What?”

“Definitely got sprayed with something and I was hoping it was blood”

It was not blood.

My mentor and colleague laughed.

It was sheep semen. On my face. From the epididymus.

*me, post surgery*: “you know, I’m really liking surgery more and more. Might consider going back to school for surgery [specialization] someday”

*my mentor, who is a very experienced practitioner and good surgeon*:”mhmm you can”

Me: “But I think in order to be surgeon you have to be a little crazy” *pauses* “I really like it and I think I’d be good at it”

Him: “Oh I’m sure you would be”

Me: *realizes the major self burn I set up for myself and also that he could of totally taken offense to that*

Him: *snickers a little and walks away*