My husband may argue with this point, but as far as husbands go, I hit the jackpot (for many reasons). Sadly, not because he’s loaded, but he has other redeeming qualities. I married a dairy farmer’s son, so we all know that he didn’t come with a trust fund (I’m saving the trust fund husband for my second marriage). My husband is a hard worker, he cooks, he sometimes cleans, he’s kind, funny, puts up with me, and he helps me with nearly every emergency call I make as a veterinarian. Some people may call that an unwise decision. After reading this blog post, that’s probably the conclusion you’ll make. As sad as it sounds, sometimes our emergency calls are a great opportunity for us to spend time together. Some weeks, the closest thing we have to a date is holding hands on the truck ride home after delivering a calf. Undoubtedly, he’s more excited about helping out on a farm call than an office call. Apparently, restraining a Chihuahua while I put in an IV isn’t quite as fun for a farm boy, and I can’t say I blame him, but he helps with my small animal calls, nonetheless. We’ve had a lot of adventures together, and we’ve learned a lot together in the past four years. Here are a few stories of our after hours adventures. Crazy Cow in a Barn It was our first OB (delivering a calf) together after I graduated. The owner of the cattle was an elderly woman. She said her heifer had been off by herself calving for awhile but not making any progress. We got there and she had the heifer in the barn. I had delivered a calf in this barn a couple of weeks prior, so I knew what the setup involved. It was an older barn, and this particular pen in the barn had large wooden poles in the center and a feeding trough on the far end. When I was there earlier and roped a cow in the barn, it went down like this: The cow seemed relatively gentle, and then I looped the rope around her neck, wrapped the rope around the pole, and began to reel her in to snug up the rope. This is the point where even gentle cows can become crazy. There’s something about a rope tightening around their neck that they don’t like. During this process, my assistant was holding the end of the rope while I tried to move her forward. She went around and around in circles around the pole, and each time she passed by us, my assistant and I would jump in the feed trough to get out of her way. It was like an adult, very dangerous version of skip ball. Remembering my experience from a couple of weeks prior, I knew I didn’t want to repeat that. I started thinking out loud about how we’ll make a makeshift alleyway when my husband said, “I don’t see why you need to get a rope and halter around the heifer anyway. Just walk behind her, hook up your chains to the calf’s legs sticking out, and pull as she walks away.” My husband was raised around very gentle dairy cows, so I’m sure they employed this method frequently on their farm. This was one of his first experiences with beef cattle. I responded by laughing and saying, “How about you try that and I watch?” As we watched the heifer in the pen, she stared at us, snorted, spun around several times, and started pawing at the ground. At this point, I suppose my husband decided that she may try to eat his lunch with his proposed capture method. He helped me put some panels together to make an alleyway. We ran her into the the alleyway, threw a 2x4 behind her, tied her head to a post, and went right to work. The important lesson with this experience: Most beef cows are crazy. Or at least a lot crazier than dairy cows. Nothing can make you fear for your life more than an angry momma cow. Except for maybe an angry cat. Eyeball Jitters It was one of my first on call nights as a practitioner. I got a frantic phone call from an owner, “Is this the vet’s office? My dog just got into a fight with our other dog, and something is terribly wrong with his eye!” I replied, “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” My husband climbed in the truck with me, and we headed to the clinic. The owners arrived with their pug, and it was what I suspected: a proptosis. Proptosis literally means protrusion of the eyeball outside of its socket. Brachycephalic breeds (flat-faced breeds), like pugs, are more susceptible to this condition, especially after an altercation with another animal. My husband reacted to this injury the way most normal human beings would react - he cringed. Little did he know what else was in store for the evening. In many cases of proptosis, the eye eventually has to be removed as there is often too much damage to the optic nerve for it to be a visual, functional eye. After doing a thorough ocular exam, I decided that manual replacement of the proptosis was worth a try. I explained everything to the owners, telling them we would have to put their dog under an anesthetic for this process. All papers were signed, and they agreed to pick up the dog in the morning. I gave the dog an anesthetic, and my husband and I made our way back to the surgery room. I prepped the area and lubricated the eye. Once everything was ready, I started putting gentle pressure on the eye to get it to pop back into its socket. Like many things as a brand new practitioner, I had seen this done at the teaching hospital a few times, but this was my first time replacing a proptosis. My husband watched this process in horror, cringing and looking away. This process was a lot harder than I expected, and it took a lot more force and pressure than I thought. I could just see my husband thinking, “She’s gonna pop that eyeball and it’s going to squirt everywhere!” He eventually got grossed out enough that he went to the lounge to watch TV. Finally, after lots of eye lubricant and patience, the eye popped back in. I breathed a sigh of relief. The moral of the story? Proptoses are not for the weak of heart. Sometimes even strong people like my husband can’t handle them. I advise other veterinarians not to force their spouses to watch this process unless you want to punish them for some reason. The Water Ski Maneuver
At around 5:15 P.M., a lot of emergency calls roll in, so no surprise on this particular emergency. A producer called and said he had a cow calving. He said she was down in the woods and he didn’t think she had the strength to walk to the corral where the facilities are. “She’s down, Doc. I don’t think she’ll get up.” Most large animal veterinarians have heard this before, and it’s almost always not true. Too many of us have heard this line, only to drive out to the pasture and as the cow or down animal sees our unfamiliar truck with unfamiliar people jumping out with ropes, the animal chooses this moment to take off for the hills. This was no exception. I was lucky enough to have extra help as not only did I have my husband with me, but also a veterinary student. The cow saw us and immediately got up and started walking away. She was at least slowed down a little by the calf hanging out of her back side. I could see the front feet and the tip of the nose just barely peeking out, which was a good sign. Nonetheless, we were already out there and committed. We had to either rope this cow and find a suitable tree to tie her to, or we needed to start herding her a quarter mile to the corral as it appeared she had enough strength to walk. A few attempts at roping were a bust as we were in a large open area of forest, and she was good at dodging the rope. Suddenly, my husband got a twinkle in his eye. Anyone married to an Irish man knows that this is a bad sign. Remember his calf pulling method that he proposed in the first story? This is where that comes into play. He crouched down a little, and slowly started to creep towards the cow, like a cat stalking a field mouse. Suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing the front legs of the calf with all of his might and pulling. The cow suddenly realized what’s going on and starts to run away. At this point, my husband is essentially sliding behind the cow on his feet, like a water skier. He glided across the dead leaves behind her, moving with her as she dodged trees. Eventually, she picked up speed and he let go, falling right on his you-know-what. By this point, the calf was out to his hips, and as the cow picked up more speed to run away, we could see gravity starting to take effect. We all watched in suspense as the calf slowly glided out of the cow and hit the ground. By this point, the cow had had enough of us and continued to run away, not even noticing she had a calf at this point. My eyes widened and I just stared in awe for a couple of seconds, unable to believe what I just saw. I then jolt back to reality and run to the calf. The calf was alive, so the student and I worked on clearing the airway. The cow was still running, luckily toward the corral. My husband helped us drag the calf to the client’s ATV, where we lifted it up to the back. The student held the calf on the ATV while I hopped into my vet truck and the rest of the people stay on foot to continue to herd the cow to the corral. After all was said and done, we got back in the truck, and my husband looked over at me. He was too humble and nice to actually say, “I told you so!” out loud, but I knew what he was thinking. I said, “I have to admit, that was a ballsy move,” but then I did the wife thing and added, “but that was really dangerous! You should be careful because you could have been seriously hurt!” I guess it turns out I’m not always right. Some of my husband’s crazy ideas come to fruition and work out better than I think. How does the saying go? People who say it can’t be done shouldn’t interrupt those proving them wrong? I ate my piece of humble pie that evening, which I guess is good for you...occasionally.
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Jessica Stroupe, DVM
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August 2017
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