August 21, 2005
For once, I can't tell you exactly how old I was when this happened, but when I was about 10 or 11 my dad woke me up after I'd gone to bed. He was kind but urgent that he needed my help. This was new to me. What could I possibly do that my dad couldn't do? I groggily trudged up the road to the hog operation. We had a sow that was giving birth, and not well. Dad was concerned that she might have a stillborn or something that had blocked the canal, and she might die from it. As I recall, she hadn't delivered the afterbirth, yet. I was the only family member with arms small enough to go up the canal. I lubricated up with some Vaseline, and stuck my young arm slowly into this sow. I found nothing. However, after I extracted my arm (I went past the elbow), she was much better. She recovered, and everything was fine.
This was the first of my more involved experiences as an amateur vet. I don't count the exercises in castrating pigs. I do count the saving of the calf that had been abandoned by its mother in below-freezing weather a couple of years later. Once or twice, in my "later" years, Soren came into conflict with things (other dogs, a mailbox) that left him with a fairly significant wound. My first wife and I would sew him up. During those instances, though, I was more of the assistant. I calmed Soren, and he lay very still, while Elizabeth went to work with the alcohol soaked thread. They all healed perfectly, except for one. He got a wound on his leg that was in an area with very little meat. It was very close to the bone. Although that healed, there was a piece of skin that always stuck out from his leg (I'll spare you the name that my buddy Flanders gave it). It never bothered him, although years later a vet cleaned it up so it wouldn't be so obvious.
Why do I bring this up? Annie just had her first experience with "the Amateur Vet". Two weeks ago, the day before I left for Chicago, I gave Tolkien an overdue bath. During the procedure, I discovered that his ears were swollen. In fact, they were very warm to the touch. I knew he had an infection. I was leaving town, and didn't know what to do. I felt confident that he would make it until I got back. Upon my return, I noticed that his ears were still the same, but he had been scratching himself so bad (he has terrible allergies) that he had some wounds on his body. I knew he needed to go to the vet, but once again, I had to travel. It was not possible to get him to his regular vet before I had to leave, nor was it going to be possible to get him in on Friday. He had to make it through the week. When I returned from Portland, the poor dog had signs of a ruptured infection. His ear had yellow sludge on it. Today, I gave him another bath, and checked him over. One of the ears was really bad. The infection was not in the ear, but rather on the ear itself. I knew what the vet was going to do, and knew that I could do it (except for the antibiotics). I had him dried and clean, and asked Annie to come and help. She held his leash, and talked to him reassuringly. I took my sterilized razor, and lanced the bulge in his ear. No, Annie didn't throw up. Several times she covered her eyes as I drained the wound. Tolkien was actually grateful. I'd massage the ear to remove the residue of the infection, and he gave his satistfied moan. We worked that ear for about a half hour. I sterilized the ear several times, and moved to the other one. This one he didn't like. To make matters worse, I couldn't get anything out. I'm wondering if he has been flopping his ears so much that the gristle has built up, and it's not an infection.
We disinfected the other incision, and gave him a couple of treats. I'm watching him as I write (before I return to the laundry), and he seems much better. I think I'll be lucky to get him to the vet on Tuesday, but I think he'll be ok. He honestly seems better than he has in quite a while. He's been looking for something to bark at. He's barked at imaginary people on the road, and imaginary monsters in the trees. Of course, I hope that's not because he suddenly can't hear.
At any rate, Annie handled it well. I chastised her briefly that she was more concerned about getting sprayed by water as I rinsed Tolkien's ears than she was about Tolkien being frightened, and she snapped back into consoling him.
I'm really tired, even though it's early, and I have blood and puss on my jeans. I'm ok with that, because my dog is better, but don't count on hearing about Annie's birthday unless I strangely get a second wind...
Dr. Dolittle
This was the first of my more involved experiences as an amateur vet. I don't count the exercises in castrating pigs. I do count the saving of the calf that had been abandoned by its mother in below-freezing weather a couple of years later. Once or twice, in my "later" years, Soren came into conflict with things (other dogs, a mailbox) that left him with a fairly significant wound. My first wife and I would sew him up. During those instances, though, I was more of the assistant. I calmed Soren, and he lay very still, while Elizabeth went to work with the alcohol soaked thread. They all healed perfectly, except for one. He got a wound on his leg that was in an area with very little meat. It was very close to the bone. Although that healed, there was a piece of skin that always stuck out from his leg (I'll spare you the name that my buddy Flanders gave it). It never bothered him, although years later a vet cleaned it up so it wouldn't be so obvious.
Why do I bring this up? Annie just had her first experience with "the Amateur Vet". Two weeks ago, the day before I left for Chicago, I gave Tolkien an overdue bath. During the procedure, I discovered that his ears were swollen. In fact, they were very warm to the touch. I knew he had an infection. I was leaving town, and didn't know what to do. I felt confident that he would make it until I got back. Upon my return, I noticed that his ears were still the same, but he had been scratching himself so bad (he has terrible allergies) that he had some wounds on his body. I knew he needed to go to the vet, but once again, I had to travel. It was not possible to get him to his regular vet before I had to leave, nor was it going to be possible to get him in on Friday. He had to make it through the week. When I returned from Portland, the poor dog had signs of a ruptured infection. His ear had yellow sludge on it. Today, I gave him another bath, and checked him over. One of the ears was really bad. The infection was not in the ear, but rather on the ear itself. I knew what the vet was going to do, and knew that I could do it (except for the antibiotics). I had him dried and clean, and asked Annie to come and help. She held his leash, and talked to him reassuringly. I took my sterilized razor, and lanced the bulge in his ear. No, Annie didn't throw up. Several times she covered her eyes as I drained the wound. Tolkien was actually grateful. I'd massage the ear to remove the residue of the infection, and he gave his satistfied moan. We worked that ear for about a half hour. I sterilized the ear several times, and moved to the other one. This one he didn't like. To make matters worse, I couldn't get anything out. I'm wondering if he has been flopping his ears so much that the gristle has built up, and it's not an infection.
We disinfected the other incision, and gave him a couple of treats. I'm watching him as I write (before I return to the laundry), and he seems much better. I think I'll be lucky to get him to the vet on Tuesday, but I think he'll be ok. He honestly seems better than he has in quite a while. He's been looking for something to bark at. He's barked at imaginary people on the road, and imaginary monsters in the trees. Of course, I hope that's not because he suddenly can't hear.
At any rate, Annie handled it well. I chastised her briefly that she was more concerned about getting sprayed by water as I rinsed Tolkien's ears than she was about Tolkien being frightened, and she snapped back into consoling him.
I'm really tired, even though it's early, and I have blood and puss on my jeans. I'm ok with that, because my dog is better, but don't count on hearing about Annie's birthday unless I strangely get a second wind...
Dr. Dolittle