A New England CountryVeterinarian: Memories and Musings
by
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JOHN’S COLICKY MARE
John delivered his milk daily to the Farmer’s Co-op by team. He was in his 70’s and the old ways suited him just fine. He also had a sense of humor and was a good observer on life. He was a good man to know.
The Farmers’ Co-op was put together by a local group of dairymen to process their milk. It was more efficient than each one trying to pasteurize, homogenize and bottle his own product. It functioned well until one by one the family farms disappeared.
John had little use of modern farming. No need to drive a truck, he had his beloved team. No need for milking machines, he milked by hand. From time to time I was called to see his cows. I always allowed time for chatting with him and usually picked up a bit of old time wisdom. It was one of the joys of a country practice.
5 AM - milking time for John. This morning he hurried back to the house to make a phone call. "Doc, my mare is sick, she can’t make her water." "Tell me what she’s doing." I said. "She’s squatting down, looking at her side, pawing the floor and she wont eat." "John, "I said, "She has colic, not a urine stoppage." I told him how to use my favorite home colic remedy consisting of baking soda, ginger, whiskey and hot water, and to call me back if she wasn’t better. "She’s trying to make water, Doc, you’d better check her out!" John was very concerned about his mare. The sooner colic is treated the better, so - on with the boots and the headlights.
The mare was obviously in pain just as John had said. I made a diagnosis of colic and gave the proper medicine for it. She failed to respond. The pelvic exam was next. With my long sleeve on and lubricated I started to exam the intestines expecting to find where the cause of the colic was. As my hand passed over the pelvic rim I felt an egg shaped object that appeared to be lodged in the neck of the urinary bladder. The bladder was over filled. "Could it be that John was right and I was wrong?" The mare resented pressure on her bladder and threatened to kick me. Drawing on courage that I didn’t know I had, I forced what was apparently a bladder stone through the urethra into the vagina and hence into the outside world. It was followed by release of a great amount of urine, a sigh of relief from the mare, and a smug look on John’s ugly face. "She’ll feel fine now," I said, "she couldn’t urinate!" John never indulged in the urge to say, "I told you so," for which I was duly grateful. He was just too happy to be able to drive his team to town that morning.
9 AM - Back on the road and realizing that most of what ever I knew was preceded by a mistake. This taught me to listen very closely to the client.
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About the Book
One of the reasons for this little book is in response to those with a friendly curiosity about the behind scenes activities of a veterinary general practitioner. Many of them are young people contemplating it as a career, often teenaged girls or animal oriented folks. Still others may be those who just want easy reading for an evening that may make them happier with their own occupation. All of the segments are actual happenings only slightly enhanced on occasion. Other segments come under the influence of ‘Musings’. Still others are things I just wanted to say.
About the Author
Shortly after graduating from college in 1942 I found myself interning in a general practice. I was soon delegated to the large animals because I hadn’t developed a bedside manner to suit the small animal owners. This meant that dairy cows and draft horses benefited from my efforts. It was hard work but had the advantage of giving me deferment from the service. The companion horse had not reached its present popularity at that time. The draft horses were being used for deliveries as a substitute for trucks due to Wartime gas rationing. After two years I went on my own and lost my deferment rating. After time in the service I started again in a small town in South Central Massachusetts. They had been without a veterinarian for years so I was generally well received. In the normal chronology of things our family eventually consisted of a boy and three girls. We were living a nearly normal life when a gift horse dramatically changed it. The horse exposed the native empathy and talent our daughters had with the equine. This started a long evolution of a farm, more horses, an indoor arena, many horse shows, eventually giving lessons in saddle and hunt seat and bringing home a Morgan Horse Grand National Award from Oklahoma City. As I look back I think the gift horse set up a life style that helped us raise four children free of serious problems. They all had responsibilities with their horses that were more important to them than the dangerous temptations so many of our young are exposed to. I’m glad I didn’t look that gift horse in the mouth.