Mixed Practice

2012-01-17T23:52:00.000-08:00

Young guy with a 6 week puppy for vaccination.
"I don't know if this is normal, or not... but... um, I'm having weird gender confusion, I don't know if I should be its mum or its dad or what..."
I.. huh?!?

2012-01-16T02:41:00.000-08:00

The dog out the back keeps walking around in circles until its legs get tangled in its lead and it falls over. This would be funny if it wasn't so irritating.

FFS DOG! HAVE YOU NEVER WATCHED THE BATTLE OF HOTH?!!

2012-01-07T19:28:00.000-08:00

A phone call.

"But how did my beloved Tigger die? I mean I know he was a 20 year old cat and he was emaciated and not eating or drinking because of his kidney failure, but did he have a heart attack or did he have a stroke, or what?"

I... what?

2011-08-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Tips for a harmonious working environment #12
When asking a colleague for help, refrain from obliviously spraying them with blood as you're trying to explain how you have this artery you just cut and it just won't stop squirting everywhere

2011-08-23T04:02:00.000-07:00

A simple test:
If you're using the electro-cautery unit on "cut" mode, and you don't make lightsaber noises while slicing/burning straight through tissue, then there's definitely something wrong with you.

2011-08-01T02:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you wish animals could communicate with you.

O: There’s something wrong with Miffy. She’s sick.
Me: Okay. What do you mean when you say she’s sick? Is she vomiting?
O: Oh, she’s just not right. Something’s wrong.
Me: Okay… is she eating? Drinking?
O: Yes, she’s eating and drinking well.
Me: Toileting? Are they normal motions and normal frequency?
O: Yes yes they’re fine.
Me: Vomiting, diarrhoea, coughing, sneezing?
O: No, none at all.
Me: She looks like she’s quite bright and responsive here. Is she lethargic at home?
O: No no, she’s quite alert.
Me: So… when you say that something’s wrong, you mean….
O: …
Me: You mean, what exactly?
O: She’s just off.
Me: So her behaviour is abnormal?
O: Yes!
Me: What is the behaviour she is displaying?
O: She’s just not right.
Me: I.. um. Can you describe an example?
O: Well, she's eating and drinking, but sometimes, she, she just doesn't seem right. Like something's wrong.
Me: Uh. Well........ clinically I can’t find anything abnormal.
O: No she’s definitely unwell.
Me: I… well, I think she’s okay, but I can run some blood tests to double check.
O: Oh, I can’t afford that.
Me: I... uhh… look I think she’s fine.
O: Can’t you just give her an injection to make her feel better?
Me: No.
O: Oh.
Me: Yep.

Sometimes you wish owners could communicate with you.

2011-07-09T04:34:00.000-07:00

Why?
“Oh Bella, oh Bella my beautiful baby girl.”
I warned you.
“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”
I warned you. I told you, six months ago.
“Bella, Bella, I’m sorry.”
All the apologies in the world can’t change what you’ve done.
“Mum, don’t kill her, please please please.” The kids are all screaming.
You’ve got three kids. You’ve gone through childbirth. Can you imagine it?
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Bella.”
“Why didn’t you get her desexed?”
“I couldn’t afford it.”
“Why didn’t you bring her in yesterday when she started having trouble?”
“I couldn’t afford it.”
No, you couldn't. You can't afford to have a dog. Here's the green needle to prove it.
"I'm so sorry."
Can you imagine it? Can you imagine having a baby stuck in your birth canal for hours, endless hours, not knowing when the pain will end, while the remaining babies inside you rot and putrefy and turn to pus inside you?
“This is all my fault, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he was only twelve months old, I didn’t think it would happen.” I told you, six months ago when you had them here for a vaccination. $180 desexing then, $700 caesarian yesterday, $1000 dying dog now, and how much suffering?
And here we are now.
"Why do you charge so much money?"
Honey, even if I can get away with not charging you any service fees, for which I will end up jobless, you still couldn't afford all the drugs and materials alone. If you couldn't afford to feed and shelter and provide medicine for two dogs and three kids then... why?
Look what you’re making me do.
Look what I freaking have to do now.
“This is all my fault.” She’s sobbing.
On a better day, when I’m not so tired, unwell, exhausted, having had four hours of sleep, and having lost three of my patients already today, ones that I desperately tried to save, perhaps I would have been more sympathetic. Perhaps I would have tried to comfort her.
But I don’t feel like lying today.
“Bella, I love you.”
You did this to your dog.
How could you do this to your dog?
The four puppies are starving, their mum hasn’t been able to feed them for hours. The owner is clueless. Could she get up every two hours to feed these puppies? To check them, stimulate them to go to the toilet, keep them warm, help them if something goes wrong?
No. No, I don't think so.
The owner, the children, and the puppies are all crying. The sounds fade to nothing as I hold the beagle’s head and look into her soulful, tired eyes. She looks as sick as I feel.
“Bella, I love you so much.”
I’ve got the needle in my hand.
Why?

2011-04-18T03:31:00.000-07:00

“Oh god, you have to help him, you have to put him out of his suffering.”
The owner is openly crying as I walk out to the van.
“He’s just been screaming in pain since I got home, I don’t know what’s wrong with him but I can’t stand it, he’s in so much pain, you have to put him to sleep.”

I open my mouth to say something comforting or to convince him I can help, that we don’t have to take such drastic measures. But as I near the van I can hear the yowling for myself. It’s a bone chilling, soul rocking sound when you hear an animal in unmistakable, unimaginable agony.

I slide the van door open gently. The cat screams and runs headlong into the back of the van. Crying, the plaintive cry of a creature in pain. He looks at me, looks at the open door. In the same split second the owner and I realise that he’s going to make a dash for it. I leap into the van and the owner slams the door shut behind me. I can hear the owner sobbing, becoming fainter as he is obviously walking away.

Alone in the dark now. It’s the weekend and I have no nurse to help me catch the poor frightened animal. I look at the euthanasia solution in my hand, at the needles in my pocket. This animal is in pain - and an animal in pain will bite. It’s dark. I have no way of catching it, and restraining it while holding up the leg vein, and injecting the solution into that vein... It will probably try to kill me if I touch where it’s sore. I don’t even have sedation on me, and I’m reluctant to open that door lest the cat make a run for it. My policy is to never do euthanasias in cars, because you just don't have control. But I don't have a choice here. What on earth do I do? Some days I have trouble euthanasing an animal that’s on its last legs and can’t even lift its head - and those are pretty much the only animals I would volunteer to do on my own without a nurse, someone to hold and comfort the animal, and to raise the vein so I can see where I'm injecting.

I move into the square of light from the tiny window. The cat has stopped crying for a moment, but I can hear it gasping. “Puss puss,” I whisper. How on earth can I help this poor animal?

A flicker of whiskers appear in the light. The cat is crawling to me, panting heavily. His paw touches my foot.

I reach out and pat him. He doesn’t move.
I reach out and take his leg. He doesn’t move.
I hold up the leg vein with one hand. With the other I insert the needle into his leg, a blind shot, I can't see what I'm doing. In the dim light a rush of blood into the syringe confirms that I’m in the vein.
The cat mews, soft little mews between laboured gasps.
I inject the solution. His panting softens, slows, and fades away.

2011-04-03T03:27:00.000-07:00

He laughs and thanks me, bundling up the nine puppies and heading off. The work phone sits in its dock, untouched.

Fifteen minutes earlier: “Chryso! Chryso! It’s crying! It’s crying!”
No way. No way!

Twenty minutes earlier: Oh, yuck. Oh, yuck. This uterus is full of rotten browny greeny dying rotten… rot! There’s no way there could possibly be anything alive in here. This ranks among the top 5 of worst things I’ve smelt in my life. I’m a vet. That’s bad.
Gross, the puppy in here is swimming in a bag of brown gunk. Better hand it to my nurse, but there’s no real point in trying.
“Oh yuck Chryso. It’s blue and covered in all this disgusting green stuff. Is it even worth trying to revive it?”
“It will probably die but let’s try anyway, then we can say at least we tried.”

Twenty minutes earlier: Okay don’t panic don’t panic, so you haven’t done an afterhours caesarean by yourself yet and this is your nurse’s first night on call, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine don’t panic. The phone’s right there. You’ll be fine.

Ten minutes earlier: “The x-ray shows that there’s still a puppy inside. We’ll have to do a caesarean, it’s got to be dead and there’s no way she can push this out by herself.”
Oh, crap. I’m scared out of my mind.

Ten minutes earlier: “Okay, I got the dead pup out. We have to take an x-ray to find out if she has any more inside - she might need a caesarian."
Please let me be wrong.

One hour earlier: “Your beagle had eight pups this morning, and she just has one hanging out of her now twelve hours later? And it’s dead? You need to bring her in. She could have more in there, we need to take an xray.”
Oh crap, oh crap, I hope I don’t have to open her up what do I do if she needs a caesarian??

Six hours earlier: Dr Boss catches me in the corridor. “Okay Chryso, now that Dr Newbie is starting, we won’t be able to back you up anymore. Tonight will be the last night you can call for back up.” He puts the phone in its dock and smiles. “But you’ll be fine. I think you’re ready.”

Dear readers: a few announcements.

Firstly, thank you for still following us despite the obviously decreasing number of posts. Our sincerest apologies for not keeping this blog up to date. I'd thought that by this time we'd be well into what I was going to call Season Two. As always, life kept happening and we all got too busy. I think the episodic/thematic approach made it harder for us to keep it up. So for the sake of regular posts, we will be dropping that - for now.
The final announcement is that since things have settled down, I hope to be posting regularly again. You see, we're no longer new grads. We are now recent grads, looking over the new new grads, and entering a new world of responsibility.

And there are so many stories to tell.

2011-03-19T05:02:00.000-07:00

Admission for desexing:
Owner: I heard you give them tattoos when they're asleep?
Me: Yes, we put a small tattoo in her ear to indicate she has been desexed.
Owner: Does it hurt her?
Me: Nope, she'll be under anaesthetic so she won't feel it.
Owner: Awesome. Can you give her a heart tattoo please?
Me: Um.... No. We're not allowed to do any procedure purely for cosmetics.
Owner: But you're going to tattoo her anyway, what's the difference??
Me: Sorry, it's not that kind of tattoo. We can only use the standard desexing symbol. It would be illegal for us to do any procedure that does not benefit the dog anyway.
Owner: Oh... okay fine.
Me: Okay now is there anything else while we have her anaesthetised?
Owner: Can you pierce her ears?

*facepalm*

2011-03-05T22:21:00.000-08:00

A phone call.
Owner: Help, I just got home, and my dogs are stuck!
Me: Okay, where are they stuck?
Owner: Like.. together! They're stuck together! From their bottoms!
Me: Right.. do you have a male and a female?
Owner: Yes...
Me: Sounds like they're tied...
Owner: Oh no! Is it bad?
Me: Uh... depends. It means they're mating.
Owner: No, there's no way they can be mating. That's physically impossible.
Me: Are they desexed?
Owner: Oh no no! I mean they're brother and sister!

2010-12-16T22:30:00.000-08:00

Yep.
Thousands of miles away, in remote untamed Cambodia, after three weeks of holiday... and hearing that ringtone in the distance still scares the living bajeebus out of me.

2010-10-26T01:11:00.000-07:00

Oh man. It looks bad. It looks really bad.
The skin is all in tatters. The wounds are raw and bleeding still, oozing bright red. I can't stop staring at it. It must hurt. I'm sure it hurts.
I'm crying at work again, but I don't care.
I wish there was something more I could do. But it's done. It's over.
Oh god, what have I done?
There are consults waiting again. Have to smile. Have to be helpful and friendly and carry my mistakes with me, in every corner of my day, could I have done something different? If only I had been more careful.
There was no way I could have known.
The blood on my hands is drying.
Okay, Chryso. Okay, Chryso. You're okay. You've been standing here by yourself in the consult room for fifteen minutes now. They're gone. It's behind you. Smile. Move forward. You can't undo it. In time, it will just be another burden of yours. A mistake. One of many. Let's go squeeze some anal glands, k?
I moisten some tissues and try to clean the blood off the wall.
I can still her her sobbing. Her face crumpled and soaked from crying, as she carried that precious little dog out of the room.
You couldn't have known. You just made a mistake.
Just a mistake that caused suffering and grief and anxiety. How can I get through this day?
I pour some chlorhex on my knuckles. It stings now, but I don't care. I know I'll regret this tomorrow. Sorry, wall, it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for the pain I've caused you. It was a mistake. I just didn't know.
I can't quite get the bloodstains off the wall. They'll remain there, but no one else will know. I'll see them. I'll see them every day I walk in here. Slowly fading with time. Just another stain.

2010-10-06T04:30:00.000-07:00

Charolais heifer x charolais bull calving = difficult.
+ heifer in body condition score five out of five (ie FAT!) = very difficult
+ started calving a few days ago = rotten + maggots
+ thunderstorm = 3.5 hour foetotomy in the middle of a paddock + a cold, wet, bruised and very smelly vet.
Oh and while you're here... can you check my horse as well?

2010-09-11T19:13:00.000-07:00

On the computer.

Appointment notes: Old cat, losing weight, diarrhoea. AGON PLEASE

There are some moments that that just make your day. Because I only work in the general practice one to two days a week I don't have very many regular clients, so even after 6 months of this it still makes me happy when I see people request to see me specifically.

2010-09-05T19:04:00.000-07:00

What the hell am I even doing here? What kind of stupidity made me want to be a vet- to work my arse off for the rest of my life for little to no pay, trying to do absolutely everything "on-the-cheap" without doing anything wrong, or neglecting patient care because everyone is "on the pension" with 15 dogs at home, can't afford medication, actively refuse to follow my instructions, then blame me when things go wrong, threaten to take their buisness elsewhere (I wish they would), and then show up the next day with the next three dogs, and the new puppy they just addopted, because after all, you can't afford the 6 kids and 15 dogs you already have, so why not get another one?

2010-09-04T05:52:00.000-07:00

Friday morning. Bluuurrrgh. I don't want to get out of bed. Just a few minutes more? Oh jeeze Chryso, you've set your alarm fifteen minutes later than normal so you could sleep in. Come on, you can do it. Need coffee. Yeah. Lots of it.

I don't want to go to work.

I don't want to go to work.

What a crap week. Walked in the door on Monday to land myself with four intensive medical cases. All needing IV drips, blood tests, hourly feeding and medication. And I have no idea what's actually wrong with any of them. Consults are still going on. People have been waiting for over forty minutes. Owners are calling about their pets in hospital. No, I haven't got results back. Actually, I haven't had a chance to read up on their symptoms, and therefore I haven't read about what tests to run yet. Let's just keep them overnight for observation, ok? We'll treat symptomatically and wait for some of these general test results to come back. Oh man, it's 8pm now. I guess I should just pick it all up in the morning.

Tuesday. Consults non stop. Most of the tests on my intensive cases came back as normal or ambiguous. AAARRGH. I haven't actually gotten around to checking all of them, because they all need extensive treatment - and I've been here since 8 am! I feel like I'm neglecting all of them because I haven't got enough time to devote to each. The other vets are all too busy to help me. Oops, our blood machine exploded so I'll have to do these by hand. Oh great, it's 8pm again.

Wednesday, my rostered surgery day, we had no surgeries booked in. Thank goodness. With all the continuing tests and intensive care, we were so flat out we barely finished everything on time. Still no answers for three of them. And the other one? That poor puppy has parvovirus. Miserable, emaciated, dehydrated, vomiting, and shooting out foul bloody diarrhoea everywhere. She's so sick, I'm treating her as best I can, and the owners are running out of money. I think she's going to die anyway. Or I'll be the one to come with the green needle to end her suffering.

Thursday, my rostered day off. I can has relax now? My parents came to visit. Bah, no sleep in. We argued about where to have lunch. We drove halfway to another suburb before we decided it was too far. We drove in another direction to find a national park and decided it was too rainy. We found a sheltered barbecue in another suburb only to find it was too wet to reach. And then when we finally managed to get enough wood to stand on to work the barbecue, it didn't work. Sigh. Headed back into town. Settled for fast food. Got into an argument about changing certain aspects of my share house. I couldn't explain why this would upset my housemates. Finally relented and agreed to let them do it. Housemates got back later, found out straight away, and were extremely upset. I couldn't explain why it had upset my parents. Fun atmosphere now in both my homes. Hoo-freaking-ray. I'll just go curl up in a ball on my bed, okay?

Come on Chryso, let's go, don't dawdle, you know how bad Fridays are. Bucketing down rain again. Straight to the hospital to see what the heck they did with my cases on my day off. Oh look, they sent three of them home on symptomatic treatment. Still have no idea of what's wrong, but they're improving on the drugs we were giving. How's that for practicing good medicine, huh?! At least I don't have as many treatments to do. Consults are starting soon. Double booked already. YAY. Oh man, I can't do this. How the heck am I going to work today?! I can't do this. I don't want to be here. I actually, really don't want to be here. I WANT TO BE ON A BEACH SOMEWHERE DOZING IN THE SUNSHINE. Okay, okay, you're surrounded by people, Chryso, and lots of expensive equipment. Resist the urge to start breaking things. Come. Let's go check the last patient.

It's the puppy with parvo. She looks up at me, smiles a doggy smile, and wags her tail. She sticks her paws onto my lap and nuzzles her head into my hand. I offer her a piece of chicken she eats it, looking up at me for more. No vomit. No diarrhoea. She's going to make it. She hops into my lap and rolls over, asking for a belly rub. Oh, my gosh, she's going to make it.

I walk into my first consult for the day, grinning.

2010-08-23T03:31:00.000-07:00

*Looking at blood smear*. Oh man, this poor cat, it's so sick. This blood smear doesn't look good. What are all these cells? Oh, crap, this looks really bad. *Zooms in* Oh jeez, these look like... these really look like lymphocytes (white blood cells). *zooms in again* Oh, these look like really angry lymphocytes. I think this is lymphoma (cancer of white blood cells). This looks so bad. Crap, crap, these poor people, they love their cat so much, but they won't be able to afford chemo. *scans around to make sure*. Cancer, cancer, angry nasty cancer. So many lymphocytes, with lots of signs of malignancy and.. oh, hey, look, that pattern in the blood! It looks exactly like a panda face! It's smiling! Awwww!!! I need to take a picture of this. *click* Oh, and a few more. It's so happy, hee hee! I wants to hug it! *click click*. *click* So cute! And....Um. What? Okay. Right. Cancer. Angry, nasty, bad cancer. Crap.

Some days it's like the universe is just trying to rub it in.

2010-08-22T02:56:00.000-07:00

Majorly obese labrador. Hmm. Needs to lose about 6 kilos. Arthritis, liver disease, shortened life span.
Cocker spaniel with dirty ears. Really needs to have those checked. Gotta make sure those ear drums are okay. Will probably need a topical antibiotic.
That dog is a walking hair mat! He needs to get it clipped straight away. Yuck.
White fluffy dog drinking manically, thinning fur, pot belly. Most likely hyperadrenocorticism. Needs a low dose dexamethasone test.
That poodle has the worst teeth I've ever seen! It needs to be anaesthetised for a full scale and polish, and probably about twelve extractions.
Woman playing tug of war with her Staffie puppy using a shoe. Oh, jeez. That pup is going to destroy everything if she doesn't curb that behaviour and give it something appropriate to chew and play with.

Nope. 800 kilometres from work, relaxing on a beach, I can't stop being a vet.

2010-08-16T17:23:00.000-07:00

I am learning that there are some topics that just shouldn't be brought up in consults:

Me: Both of your dogs need to be vaccinated to go into kennels, so I'll vaccinate this dog now and if you can bring your other dog in in the next few days there'll be enough time for the vaccine to work.
Owner: Is it alright if I come in next week? We're really busy at them moment, my wife and I are both running in the election this weekend and our schedules are just crazy.
Me: Oh that's ok, I understand, my [family member] ran in the last state election.
Owner: Oh really, how did they do?
Me: Pretty well.
Owner: What party were they running for?
Me: [name of rather left wing political party], Which party are you running for?
Owner: [name of extremely right wing political party]

A vaguely uncomfortable quiet descends momentarily, the dog fidgets.

Me (smiling a bit too hard): Oh, right, good on you. Right, well I'll just go and get the vaccine he'll have his jab and then we'll be done.

2010-08-16T04:34:00.000-07:00

Me: And, finally, to help Chubby get over this gastroenteritis, he needs to be on bland food only. Plain chicken, plain rice.
Owner: Okay, no problems Doc. Chicken and rice.
Me: Excellent. Now, here are-
Owner: He loves chicken anyway, especially the skins.
Me: It's best to take the skin off. We want to give his gut something gentle to deal with, to let it completely reset before making it work hard again.
Owner: Oh. What about gravy, can it have gravy on it? He loves gravy.
Me: Nope. Plain chicken only. If it's a bit of a hassle to prepare every day, you can get a bland version of dog food in a can, we sell them here.
Owner: Oh, that's okay, we normally give him chicken flavoured dog food anyway.
Me: Actually, the supermarket dog food isn't bland enough. It has to be pure chicken meat, or a special diet from here. The chicken must have nothing added to it. Just plain, boiled chicken.
Owner: Okay, I got it doc. No worries.
Me: Great. Now, these tablets are-
Owner: Wait, what about his beef bones? He loves having those every day. He'll get upset if he doesn't have them.
Me: Here. Have this can. It's a special formulated food for him. Feed him this and only this and nothing else. No snacks no treats nothing else but this.
Owner: Oh, okay. I'll get a slab of those thanks.

With some people you just have to be assertive.

2010-08-14T02:17:00.000-07:00

Owner: So is it bloat Doc? Is my Midnight Star going to need surgery?
Me: I'm afraid it's a full blown gastric torsion. She's twisted her stomach and it's filling up with gas. It doesn't look good at all.
Owner: Oh no! She's my best show dog. I'll do anything for her. She's precious to me.
Me: Surgery is the only way. We need to get that stomach out and untwist it. It's a poor prognosis even with surgery. Because of the twist, it cuts off circulation to some parts of the bowel and spleen which may die. Sometimes we do surgery and the patient might die despite intensive treatment. She'll require several days in hospital afterwards. An estimate would be about $1500 all up.
Owner: I'll do anything for her. She's my best show dog. She means so much to me.
Me: Of course. I'll get her prepared for surgery right now. Sign here.
Owner: Absolutely no fur clipping please. *writes it on the form in big letters*
Brain: Sure. Your precious dog who you'll do anything for is probably going to die, but at least she'll look nice.
Brain: ...I am a professional. I am a professional.
Me: I strongly advise a wide clip for this one.
Owner: What? The other vets always respect my request for minimal clipping!
Me: This time we need to fully take the stomach out, and we really don't need fur going into her abdomen and setting up a peritonitis on top of everything else.
Owner: I wash her once a week, her fur is perfectly clean! Hmph!
Brain: ...Sigh.

2010-08-11T17:23:00.000-07:00

Lump on a dog’s foot, a saga of questions
(somewhat paraphrased from a series of conversations)

Me: When did you notice the lump?
Owner: Well my friend was over yesterday and said “What’s with the lump?”
Brain: Crap what the hell is this soft subcutaneous lump? It could be anything – abscess, haematoma (bruise), lipoma (a fatty lump), mast cell tumour, lymphoma, histocytoma, haemangiosarcoma etc etc etc.
Me: We should take an aspirate and have a look at it under the microscope, is that ok?

Brain (whist looking at the smear): Crap crap crap, all I can see is blood! Are those interesting looking lymphocyte type cells just from the blood that’s contaminating my smear or is this lymphoma?
Me (to owner): I think we should send this to the pathologist, are you happy with that?

Pathologist: Round cell tumour, likely lymphoma.
Brain: Crap! What the hell do I do next?

Me (to owner): Its bad, it looks like lymphoma.
Owner: What's lymphoma?
Me: Its a cancer made of white blood cells. Would you like a referral to a medicine specialist?
Owner: No I have had a bad experience, I don't trust specialists. What can you do?

Me (to specialist): There’s a lymphoma on this dog’s foot, what do I do next?
Medicine specialist: Can you refer it to me?
Me: No, the owner doesn’t want a referral, what do I do next?
Medicine specialist: Can you get a bigger sample from the lump and one from the lymph node?

Me (to owner): Can we spend lots of money to give your dog an anaesthetic and take a sample from the lump? Btw if the lymphoma has spread your dog will probably need chemotherapy, are you willing to do that?
Owner: Can’t we just cut the lump off? How long will she live? Will she get really sick with the chemo? How long will the chemo buy us? If we’re gonna knock her out to take the sample why can’t we just cut the lump off?

Me (to specialist): Can’t we just cut the lump off? How long will she live? Will she get really sick with the chemo? How long will the chemo buy us? If we’re gonna knock her out to take the sample why can’t we just cut the lump off?
Medicine specialist: If you don’t get the whole lump the first time/the tumour has spread you’ll need to do further surgery/chemo anyway, plus it will probably be a complicated surgery. No idea until we know more about the lump. Less sick than humans get. No idea until we know more about the lump. See first answer. Can you refer it to me?
Me: No

Me (to owner): See above
Owner: Ok, we’ll take the sample, what do we do then?
Me: Probably spend more money to do x-rays and an ultrasound to see if the lymphoma has spread anywhere else. Then we may be able to cut the lump off or we may need to do chemo.
Owner: I don’t really want to do chemo, can we just cut the lump off? How long will she have if we don’t?
Me: Don’t know until we know more about the lump.

The saga is ongoing....

2010-08-04T01:38:00.000-07:00

So I wander into reception since it's quiet for the next half hour.
A client walks up. She looks familiar.
Client: Hi, how are you? *looks at me funny*
Brain: Crap, I'm not usually in reception. I hope it's not too difficult to work out.
Me: I'm good, how are you? *grinning like an idiot*
Client: Not too bad. (pause) I saw you with Max last time.
Brain: Oh crap, I don't remember why Max was here. Um, um, ask her something generic. Ask her something nice. Ask her how Max is!
Me: How-
Client: Thanks so much for putting him to sleep. It was so quick and painless, and you were so gentle. I'm still so devastated that he's gone but I'm glad his suffering is over.
Me: That's okay and you're most welcome. It's the last gift you can give them.
Brain: !!!

2010-08-01T21:14:00.000-07:00

Owner (O): "my dog isn't eating!"
Dr Chance (DC): "For how long? It looks normal- Has it had any diarrhoea or vomitting? Could it have eaten a toy?"
O: "No, none of that... it's been a few weeks now... it's not eating it's dinner!"
DC: "Really?! It doesn't look like it's losing weight..."
O: "No, it's gaining weight... that's what I'm worried about... I don't know... there must be something wrong with it..."
DC:"Oh, ok... does it behave normally?"
O: "Yes, yes... but it doesn't eat its dinner."
DC:"At all?"
O: "Well, it eats a bit... and usually finishes it, but it doesn't gulp it down like it used to..."
DC:"How often do you feed it?"
O: "only once a day"
DC:"Well, that's quite unusual, what- may I ask- do you feed it?"
O: "just dry food"
DC:"That is the staple of the diet... hmm... do you give it anything else?"
O: "Well, it gets a beef bone- not a marrow bone, because I heard they can be fattening."
DC:"That's true... though once a week shouldn't put the dog off it's dinner..."
O: "No, once a day... and it also gets a beef heart and two chicken necks."
DC:"A week?"
O: "A day. Should I cut that back a little?"

Often, if given enough time, the questions start to answer themselves.

2010-08-01T20:48:00.000-07:00

"No, I don't want to socialise it, or desex it. I want it to be a guard dog. So, I'm training it to bite and hate everything. The last one I got wasn't nasty enough, so this time I got a larger breed, with a lower aggression threshold as a really young puppy, just so I could make sure that I f*cked it in the head as much as possible."

Sometimes (and believe me, my co-workers are usually celebrating at this point), I'm just lost for words. Or at least words longer than four-letters.

2010-07-29T01:34:00.000-07:00

Me: Good evening. Main Street Veterinary Practice. Dr Chryso speaking, how can I help you?
Mum: Uh.. hello? Chryo, that you hun?
Me: Oh... hi Mum. Sorry, it's this reflex, I can't seem to stop doing it.

2010-07-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you get these startling moments of clarity. Just moments, most often in an average, mundane sort of setting, and then everything is different.

Today I had a 3 year old cavalier King Charles spaniel limp into my consult room. And as I explained to the owner the mechanisms, grades and treatment of patellar luxation, I could suddenly hear myself. Really clearly. As if I was sitting back watching this scene, even while I was talking. I heard the inflections in my voice, the tone, the pitch; I could hear my own accent, and strangest of all I heard the easy confidence and five years of training. And suddenly the Me who was watching thought: Hey, I sound exactly like a real vet! Wow! The Me who was Talking was a bit surprised by this thought from the Me who was Watching; but the former kept talking even while being aware that all this was going on and the latter was somewhat amused by this whole thing. It lasted just moments, but my entire world had shifted. The moment passed, and the owner nodded, listening to my explanation, unaware that any of this was going on. I kept talking.

2010-07-22T05:22:00.000-07:00

"NO! NO! Patch, you $%#^ing stupid $&*@head of a dog! #$&*! NO! Why would you do that?! ARGH!"
Dr Boss - compassionate, highly respected, easy going Dr Boss - is so livid I'm actually a bit frightened.
"You came to me 3am on death's door, pale as a sheet, tried to die in my consult room, and somehow managed to get through a rocky night on fluids. You had a bleeding splenic tumour, for goodness' sake, and you were just pouring out blood into your abdomen through it. Your owner took a huge chance, Patch, letting you go to surgery. He loves you so much. That was the bloodiest surgery I've ever done - it was just pouring out of your abdomen the second I cut into it. But you survived the anaesthetic somehow. Spleen out, two blood transfusions, intensive monitoring, and somehow once again you managed to survive another rocky night.
"So why? Why now, why ten minutes after I've called your owner to tell him you're okay to go home, why did you have to die now? #&$^, if you were going to do it, why couldn't it have been that night in my consult room? We tried so hard, I tried so hard to save you Patch. Why?"

Patch's eyes stare back blankly. There would never be an answer.

2010-07-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

Heilige: Hey Chryso, how are you going?
Chryso: Hi there Heilige, I'm good, let me go somewhere quieter, I'm at Peppa's house warming.
Heilige: Oh cool. How's it going? It sounds like it's really happening there!
Chryso: It's going really great. Peppa made punch and the usual suspects are getting pretty tipsy. It's so great to see everyone again. How's your part of the country?
Heilige: Cold. And I'm on call. I'm just ringing you because I've got this case coming in and I need some advice. Hope I'm not interrupting much.
Chryso: Never a problem. Hey, Peppa, Mindy, Jules, Lana and Irene are here. And me of course. Take your pick!
Heilige: Ooh, it's a bit of a complicated medical case, is Mindy free?
Chryso: Sure thing, I'll put her on.
Heilige: Thanks. Have fun at the party! Try not to stay up too late!
Chryso: You know I always do. Good luck!

Sometimes, when I'm surrounded by these noisy, laughing, drinking, roudy young people, I'll suddenly remember: Oh yeah, we're vets.

2010-07-16T03:15:00.000-07:00

Background: I have a green-cheeked conure (parrot), Mozzie, who I regularly bring to work to give him a bit of variety. I work at two clinics: the main clinic and the branch clinic. Mozzie can't come to the branch clinic because I don't trust the cat there alone with him.

Friday morning shenanigans:
Home
Me: Poor Mozzie! I'll bring you to work today because you were cooped up at home all day on my day off. But I’m going to be late! Dr Boss already told me off twice for being tardy. I don’t have time to fill your foraging toys so I'll just have to do it at work today.
Housemate: See you later!
*Stuffs cage into car and drives the 8 minutes to Main Clinic*
Main Clinic
*Spots Dr Branch Vet’s car pulling out of Main Clinic*
Me: Oh crap! I’m supposed to be at Branch Clinic today! Oh no! Mozzie, you’ll have to go home. Oh man, I’m uber late now.
*Drives straight on past Main Clinic and drives 10 minutes home (it’s school time now so the roads are packed)*
Home
*Drops off Mozzie*
Housemate: Wtf? Lolz
Me: I'm laaaate! Byeeeee!
*Drives 8 minutes to Branch Clinic*
Branch Clinic
Dr Branch Vet: Um, Chryso, aren’t you supposed to be at Main Clinic today? The roster changed yesterday.
Me: OMG. WUT. Yesterday = my day off!
Dr Branch Vet: Uh… *but I’m already gone*
*Drives 12 minutes from Branch Clinic to Main Clinic*
Main Clinic
Dr Boss: You’re late and there are people waiting. Where’s Mozzie today?

FML.

1.05: Questions

2010-07-14T01:58:00.000-07:00

Vets have a huge array of tools at our disposal, to hunt down a diagnosis or to form a treatment plan. We have various scopes to look down every orifice or cavity, big or small. Stethoscopes to amplify minute sounds. There are a vast array of blood tests we can run, from general profiles down to specific enzymes. We have microscopes to look at urine samples, fine needle aspirates, scrapes, smears, and biopsies - examining things right down to the cellular level.

We can use x-radiology to see through a patient and add barium to see how something will move through the gut or blood vessels. Create x-rays in real time and you have fluoroscopy to see swallowing or coughing. We can use ultrasonography to rapidly build a mental 3d image of a patient's insides. And then there is advanced imaging like CT or MRIs – taking detailed cross sections through the patient.

We can even use medications as a diagnostic tool, by analysing the response to a certain medication. Surgery can be used in the same way, as well as to directly visualise things you can't pick up on imaging. And of course we have our eyes and ears, noses and fingers, as we examine a patient in the consult room.

But the most important instrument, the one all vets rely on, is often undervalued or overlooked - yet it is always the first one we reach for. It is used long before we even lay our hands on an animal. It appears simple to operate at first, and yet at the same time it is a complex artform which requires practice and skill to perfect, to use and interpret. It drives us, on a personal level as well as a professional one.

It is the vet’s first, last, and most powerful tool: The humble, and mighty, Question.

//serendipity

2010-07-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

I take a back step and look at myself in the mirror. A vet really shouldn't be cheering the illness on. Sometimes I end up feeling like an ambulance-chasing blood-sucker - hoping for the worst even as the hope fades from the client's eyes.

Whenever an interesting surgery or procedure pops up, it's hard to be neutral; give the percentages, the costs and the prognoses, in a level voice when you just want to try the myelogram, the splenectomy, the liver lobectomy, the thoracotomy or amputation. You can't very well say "I REALLY want to try this" when you know the prognosis isn't very good and the owner can't or won't pay for it.

Even so, I can consign myself to always hoping for the correct diagnosis, regardless of whether it is interesting or banal. Rather than hoping for the rare and wonderful and (often) euthanasia-inducing diseases, I have changed to hoping for the quick and accurate diagnosis. Rather than "Dr. Gregory House"-ing it, I find myself looking back retrospectively and saying: Contemporary knowledge taken in consideration, could I have possibly reached the diagnosis any sooner? Or with less tests?
I have found in recent times that this is always very satisfying.

Yes: your dog may have cancer, but at least we found it for less than $200 of tests, rather than you spending $500 trial-treating the non-pathognomonic symptoms.

Sometimes doing a blood test, hoping for some sort of a change, or just to eliminate a disease can seem like a waste of time. But that one time out of ten, you can end up saving a lot of heartache and suffering.

There's nothing more satisfying than serendipity. And Serendipity only comes when you've already put in the hard yards.

2010-07-12T08:39:00.000-07:00

Nurse: Oh, wow, when did we get the new surgical gowns?
Me: Actually, this is the smallest scrub top I could find. Now pass me the ladder, I need to hang this fluid bag up.

2010-07-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

First aggressive client, refused to muzzle his dog.
O:"Fine, I'll just go then, find another vet."
Me:"If you want. Bye."

And now I don't get bitten! Score.

2010-07-05T04:39:00.000-07:00

His pale blue eyes are shrouded by the darkness of the black hoodie drawn up over his head. A huge beard cascades out of sides of the hood and I try not to let my gaze stray to the tattoos of dragons encircling his large, well muscled arms. My neck hurts from gazing up at him. He's huge, even compared to an average sized man - he's at least twice my height and width. He could easily break my arms if he wanted to. I try not to think about that too much as I pick up the little insulin needle and pin down the mouse under my hand.
The owner clears his throat, and tells me in a deep gruff voice, "Do you mind if I sit? Needles make me faint."

2010-06-29T02:52:00.000-07:00

“The xrays show that the bigger of the bones in his wing is broken. If he’d broken the little one, we would have just splinted and bandaged it. But big ones need surgery.”
The wildlife carer’s face falls as I speak. She has had long experience with vets and understands that a broken wing is a death sentence for wildlife. I hate being given wildlife cases; not that I don’t love the animals, it’s just I have to euthanase like 90% of them. Most of them are genuinely not treatable, but some of them could be treated if only someone would pay the (sometimes vast) cost for it. Hundreds, sometimes, if it's surgery. It’s one of the worst parts of my job – and birds, in particular, are hardest for me. At least I didn’t have to explain to a naïve owner why we had to euthanase; at least the wildlife carer knew that a bird with a broken – or misaligned – wing in the wild was a far worse ending than a quiet peaceful one in hospital. For a few seconds she wears an expression of devastation, the same one I had about an hour ago when I took the kookaburra away from her and went to Dr Boss, disheartened, visibly upset, wishing I didn’t have to end another life.
I hurry on to say, “Anyway, he’s just recovering from surgery now.”
She looks at me, dumbfounded. “…What?”
“Oh, we’ve put some pins through the bone and used some moulded plastic to form an external fixator. He can go home with you tomorrow. In about four weeks we’ll re-xray, then take the pins out.”
The smile spreads from her mouth to her eyes. “Wow. Thank you!” she exclaims. “Thank you so much!”
It would be so easy to take the credit. But I explain, “Dr Boss wants to gain experience in several orthopaedic surgeries, so he is now giving good wildlife candidates for surgery a go. It’s purely for our benefit; we gain experience so we can do better on future patients, and as a plus these birds get a chance.”
Her happiness and her laughter follow me down the corridor as I head back to the hospital. The nurses are taking turns in covering reception or kennel duty to see the little patient. I see Dr Boss up ahead and hurry to thank him, but he turns around and says, “Thanks Chryso. Make sure you bring me all the broken wings from now on. Purely for our benefit, of course.” He is grinning from ear to ear.
“Sure thing, Boss, we need lots of it, right?” And my face hurts from smiling.

2010-06-28T03:31:00.000-07:00

What's more fun than being on call?
Being on call when it's unbelievably windy and it's about five degrees out.

...And there's absolutely NO electricity.

Euthanasia by the light of an otoscope, now that's an interesting experience.

2010-06-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

This is why I love working after hours on a weekend.

Many hours after the clinic has officially closed...
Pug: Hello! Snort. I'm a happy bouncy hyperactive pug with a PCV of 18! Whee! Snort.
Me: C'mere pug, give me your blood.
Nurse: *pins down pug who is slobbering and squirming and bouncing around*
Me: *Tries to get blood when pug stays still for three seconds, but misses*
Me: *Tries again, pug squirms, can't get needle to stay in*
Pug: Whee! Snort.
Me: *Tries again, gets blood, pug squirms, needle comes out*
Me: *Tries again, finally gets blood, sticks blood tubes into centrifuge. Ok, four minutes to go. Lets nurse go home because it's long after hours.. I'm hungry. why can't I go home too?
Centrifuge: Ding! It looks like your blood tubes are completely empty and therefore useless! The sealant spun right out and all the blood with it!
Me: Gotta pack in that sealant harder. LE SIGH.
Me: C'mere pug, give me your blood.
Pug: Whee! Snort.
Me: *fighting with pug one handedly holding off the vein while trying to get blood.
15 minutes later...
Pug: Whee! Snort. Fine, have some blood now.
Me: *gets centrifuge running*
Centrifuge: Ding! Look, your blood tubes are completely empty again!
Me: OMFG. *chucks out sealant and finds old, shoddy looking one.*
Me: C'mere pug, give me your blood....
10 minutes later...
Me: WOO FREAKING HOO. *jams blood tube into old sealant*
*Jams blood tube too hard and shatters it in hand*
Me: ARGH! *stands up and whangs head on pug's cage*
10 minutes later...
Me: Centrifuge, I'm hungry and my head hurts and my hand hurts and I will break you and all your spinnery insides if you don't give me a result.
Centrifuge: Ding! The PCV is still 18! You have to do this again tomorrow!
Me: Haha, whee.... Snort.

2010-06-25T04:01:00.000-07:00

"But it can't be a boy, it has nipples!"

2010-06-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

Owner: My dog keeps licking its 'girly bits'...
Me: hmm... everything looks fine, and the vulva looks normal, speyed dog... history not UTI, hmm... wait a minute... there was that one arthritic dog with impacted anal glands that licked its vulva... this one isn't arthritic, but...
Anal Glands: Hello, I'm gigantic! (paraphrased)
Me: Ah, so it looks like it's just a problem with the anal glands *explaining* Does she scoot at all?
Owner: Oh! Now that you mention it... she does; but I wormed her so I thought it was just from her hard poos.
Me: Yeah, well it's the anal glands, quite simple to treat... and reduce the weight... we don't want to get arthritis, do we?

2010-06-22T05:42:00.000-07:00

Today I spoke to the owner of a dog that I castrated yesterday, just to check that the dog was going well. The owner told me that he won't get his other dog castrated because it looked strange and he hadn't realised what a major operation it was.

Castration is a very minor procedure, one of the most basic that vets perform. One cut. Clamp. Ligate. Stitch up. My incision was 3cm long, I used only internal sutures and the scrotum was left intact. Oh and I just prevented unwanted puppies, testicular tumours, perianal adenomas, prostatic hyperplasia and undesirable behaviours just to mention a few minor details.

Seriously mate, GET OVER IT!!!!

2010-06-21T03:28:00.000-07:00

Owner: I'm worried about my bitch. She had pus coming from her vulva yesterday.
Me: Okay. She's not desexed right? When was her last heat?
Owner: Last month. I'm particularly concerned because I have really severe gonorrhea.
Me: Oh, so sorry to hear that. *secretly amazed at own ability to keep a straight face*
Owner: And, well, I hope she doesn't have it too.
Me: Uh huh. Um... *quiet, deep in thought about the diseases that cross the species barrier. Nope, definitely not one of them. Does this bitch have pyometra? I need to ask about...
Owner: *suddenly looking horrified* Because I pat her! I pat her a lot. It could possibly be on my hands and I pat her lots.
Me:... Uh, ok....... Yeah, she can't get it anyway...

2010-06-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

BOSS: Chryso, can you give me a hand? I have to take some xrays of that hit-by-car cat, but this puppy here came in last night after being attacked by a much larger dog. It was bleeding from a puncture wound so I put a pressure bandage on it. Can you take off the bandage and make sure the pup's ok? The puncture went through the left side of its abdomen.
ME: Sure Dr Boss, no worries.
BOSS: Yeah just do a basic examination, check its colour and make sure it's not bleeding anymore. But let me know if it starts pissing out blood from the wound, we... might need to do something about that.
ME: You think? No probs, I'm on it.
*Takes off bandage... and watches bloody urine come pouring out of the wound*
ME: Um, Boss, did you mean that literally?
BOSS: Oh. Um, crap.

1.04: Serendipity

2010-06-15T19:09:00.000-07:00

On a dreary afternoon, a client saunters into the waiting room with their boxer leaping about their legs like a dervish, brandishing his bright crimson bandage like his namesake in a championship prizefight.

With a sharp intake of breath, the bandage is cut away- the Owner looks in shocked silence before exclaiming, "Wow! It's all healed so well! Thank you sooo much."

I can't help but grin as I wave off the praise, "Ah, no- don't mention it, I'm just glad it all turned out so well."
"I'm sure you are just being modest," they retort, and I shoot them a knowing look, like there's a secret only the two of us will share. And as they leave the clinic, a grin from ear to ear, I'm left wondering when things actually started going right...

10-14 days earlier:
"CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP... Please stop bleeding! Please stop bleeding! CRAP... Goddamn suture material, blunt needle- I swear, if you don't stay straight in my needle holders, I'm going to kill you and all of your needle-children... Can I please get more swabs? *squirt* Can I please get A LOT more swabs? uhhh, Oh... shivers, this isn't good... Um, cautery? Is there cautery? Please tell me there's cautery! Great... now... how does this work again?!"

Since graduation, I've held one vet's words in my mind constantly:
"It doesn't matter how well or poorly you do a surgery, you're only ever judged on the skin sutures."

//words

2010-06-15T02:52:00.000-07:00

Well, I’ve just sent off your sympathy card. I hope it can convey a piece of my condolences. I hope you’ll be okay. I still feel like it’s just not enough. I euthanased your beloved pet, I ended its life; I feel like I should send flowers or something. Maybe some chocolates. Words just don’t seem like enough to make it up to you.
Back to my desk. I need to read up on myasthenia gravis…
There on my desk. A huge bundle of beautiful orange and yellow flowers. A box of chocolates. And a card. It’s from you.
Inside, there are just two words.
Two little words can contain so much. And two words are all it takes.

“Thank you.”

I.. you.. but I.. what?

You’re welcome.
And thank you. It really means a lot.
Thank you.

2010-06-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

Pet Peeve: When a client decides to decline your own "strong recommendations" and then still yells at you when things go wrong.
Only Solution: Smile somberly, apologise profusely and then punch a hole in the wall out back.
Note: Don't ACTUALLY punch a hole in the wall

2010-06-10T06:18:00.001-07:00

A small piece of folded paper with a love heart scribbled on the front. Inside is a hand-drawn picture of a blonde haired girl patting a cat, and the heavy handed script of a child.

"Dear Misty,
Thank you for being a wonderful pet"

Sometimes the smallest things remind us why it's worth the extra hours, the abuse, the tears, the stress, and the fears. We are not alone. They care too.

2010-06-05T01:31:00.000-07:00

Me: Mrs Owner, I'm just calling to let you know that I don't think Fluffles will make it overnight. Despite being on the drip and all the medications I think her kidneys are failing.
Mrs O: Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, Fluffles.
Me: We've done all we can, and I suppose the rest is up to her. We've made her as comfortable as possible. I was just wondering if you wanted to continue with the tests, which may not have been processed yet, or if you want to take her home, or want to consider euthanasia. I don't think she's suffering, but I'm just not sure she'll survive until morning.
Mrs O: Let's just try. Oh, my dear Fluffles. She's so old. Oh, no.
Me: Yes. She's had a good run, the dear cat. If it's her time, then...
Mrs O: Oh no, don't you get sad too Chryso, you will see a lot of this in your life, your career. You can't carry them all with you, no matter how much you feel you have to, it's just not good for you. We'll see, if it's her time, then it's her time.
Hey, you just stole what I was about to....
Mrs O: There's only so much you can do, and you've done it all. She's comfortable. If she goes, well at least we tried everything. Some things just are beyond our control. So let's just see how she is in the morning, and take it day by day. It's all we can do.
Me: Yes, that's right...
I've run out of comforting things to say.
Me: Take care, Mrs O.
Mrs O: You too, and thanks for all your hard work. Now go home and eat some food and be warm.

Wait, what?
Sometimes, you wonder whose role is whose.

2010-06-01T16:41:00.000-07:00

After a walk-in euthanasia for "I just found it like this", i.e. agonal gasping and howling in pain while being unable to move, as well as looking (and smelling) like death warmed up- the client calls back to ask:

OWNER: So, do you have any idea as to what could have caused it?
(What I wanted to say): Well, it's hard to say without a blood screen and post-mortem, but I think it might have something to do with the mammary tumour on its belly that weighs as much as the dog does.

Sometimes you feel like you're putting down the wrong thing.

2010-06-01T06:20:00.000-07:00

Today one of the new nurses in my hospital had a revelation: I am one person!
Yes for the past 4 weeks that she's been working with me she believed that there were two really similar looking people in the clinic: Dr Agon in the general practice (where I do 1-2 shifts a week), and the pig lady who does research.
Which one is my superhero alter ego? You work it out.
I need a cape.

2010-06-01T03:39:00.000-07:00

Owner: I'd like to have my dog muted.
Me (somewhat perplexed): Is he barking a lot?
Owner: Oh, yeah he is I guess. Will having his nads cut off help with that too?

2010-05-30T15:52:00.000-07:00

Oh great, what a perfect way to start an early Monday morning, with the worst kind of veterinary emergency on our hands.

WE'VE RUN OUT OF COFFEE.

Get someone on it, STAT.

2010-05-29T19:15:00.000-07:00

"Get the hell out of my consult room! I'm sick to death of you coming in here and telling me what is wrong with your animal and asking for drugs. I'm not a bloody pharmacy. I'm here to tell you what is wrong with your animal, I'm here to help you and give you advice, so if you're not willing to listen to me, I'm just wasting my goddamn breath. I'm not paid to listen to little stories about how cute your kittty is when it chases its tail, or that your dog is REALLY good at killing possums, while there are five people in the waiting room with sick animals. If you want to talk over the top of me, then you can go and talk to a brick wall, for all I care. If you don't want to here a word I say, then you get GTFO and we'll both be happier for it!"

There are some times in this job that you get angry, and behind your kind smile and interested expression, an entirely different monologue is going on. And you keep telling yourself "next time." "Next time these people come in, I'll say something..." but you never do.

2010-05-27T02:05:00.001-07:00

“I’m afraid it’s bad news.”
I turn my eyes away as the tears well up in his.
“Personally, I think euthanasia is the best option, but we can certainly try if you would like to. The chances, and the prognosis, are both poor.”
He is silent for a moment, and then elects for euthanasia.
Another one, I think grimly, gathering the too-recently used, familiar little collection of items.
“This happened in the last consult too, didn’t it?” he asks me, gently stroking his cat’s head.
I nod, realising that he must have seen the quietly sobbing woman carry that little box out of the room.
“It must be so hard. I’ve never really thought about how often animals die. I’m a nurse, I see people die all the time. But animals… I couldn't do it. It’s just terrible when it’s your own pet, but being a vet… it must be so hard seeing it every day...”
I smile gently, appreciating the acknowledgement. “But it’s not always sad. I mean, it is, but it is also a good thing sometimes. A kindness.”
“Oh, I know. I work with terminal patients, I see them every day… they’re in pain, or they can’t move, or… it’s, well…”
“It must be so hard,” I say. “I never really thought about that. How many people there would be… seeing that every day…” The enormity of it settles on me.
We look at each other. A moment passes between us. A brief glimpse into each others’ lives. No words are exchanged. Nothing needs to be said. The cat drifts away quietly.

2010-05-25T23:21:00.000-07:00

Don't worry that I've just done the best f-ing surgery in the entire world for the dog that you brought in with no appointment and a slash to the leg. Don't worry that I dodged blood vessels and nerves to fix a wound that would make most people faint. And how does it look? Perfect. And how does it work? Perfectly. And what scar will be left? None at all. And the fact that I only charged you for 10 minutes of surgery even though it took me 20?

Because really- is any of that as important as the fact that the cost is $100 more than quoted (including $90 of medications, which aren't included in the quote). And that when the nurse says the "Quote", a quote is different from an "Estimate."

(Don't worry that the form you signed specifically says "Estimate" and the words "The actual cost may be more, this is just an estimate.")

FML

2010-05-25T02:16:00.000-07:00

The area is small and warm. Dimly lit. Quiet. Inconscpicuous. Out of sight from others, and hard to find. Comfy enough to fall asleep in. A nice retreat, where one can hide from daily troubles… clients… other staff…
Needs a few motivational posters though. Yeah. Curtains would be nice too. Maybe tomorrow I’ll renovate the space under my desk.

2010-05-20T18:07:00.000-07:00

Fun things to notice while in a consult
#27
Pus from that dog's eye from your last consult? Yeah, there's some in your pocket where you keep your pens.

2010-05-17T17:57:00.000-07:00

Hmm...
"I'm sorry"?? No, I'm not really, sorry... I'm glad I could help you through this time of distress.
"It's a pleasure"?? No, not really. But I do it anyway.
"This is the worst part of my job."?? No, it's not. It's one of the most positive contributions we can make. An injection which is a permanent cure for everything! Medicine specialists eat your heart out.
"You're doing the right thing." Sometimes you aren't, but it's worth saying anyway. Maybe it should be "you aren't doing anything wrong." But I'm sure it's no consolation.
"It's the last nice thing you can do for them." Poor consolation I know, when the guilt eats away at you in the middle of the night.
"Try to remember the good times, not the bad." And I feel like some goddamn Hallmark card.
"They're in a better place" would be a whole lot easier if I were religious.
"I understand how you feel." And at the same time I will never understand how you feel.
My mouth opens and closes, nothing comes out. The wall of professionalism stands between us and I can't break through. As I look into your eyes with the syringe in my hand, I find myself thinking all these phrases, weighing each one and then thinking, quite selfishly,
"Start crying, damn it. It's always easier when you cry."

2010-05-17T03:47:00.000-07:00

Note to self: The consult room door opens both ways. Open it inwards, because if you want to impress your boss it’s best not to smack him in the face with a rampant door while you charge out of it with the ER theme in your head.

2010-05-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

One of the many delightful things about living with two other vets is that there are often emergency veterinary supplies lying around in the house, just in case you run out of something.

Like say when your bathroom runs out of cotton buds, there's always a handful of cotton tipped pathology swabs lying around somewhere.

2010-05-10T17:50:00.000-07:00

Admission for desexing.
Owner: Oh god! She's not going to die, is she?
Me: It's ok. There is a slight risk with every anaesthetic, but your dog is young and healthy, and there's no more risk than if you were to go under.
Owner: So it's not going to die?
Me: That is certainly a possible complication, however we take all steps to minimise that possibility
Owner: But it's still possible?! You won't let it die will you? Please tell me it won't die!
Me: Listen; I don't come in to work in the morning with the intention of killing animals.
Owner: Oh... Okay.

Moral- Some people need you to be a little more heavy-handed to get their confidence

1.03: Words

2010-05-10T04:49:00.000-07:00

My pen hovers above the card. I don’t know what to say. There are so many things I want to tell you. But these emotions just refuse to be translated into words. I want to tell you how deeply sorry I am that your dearest companion is now deceased, and that I know just how painful it is to lose one so beloved. How it leaves a silence, an absence, an emptiness inside you. That the following days will be filled with sorrow, how time seems to drag on endlessly, and all ordinary things just seem so difficult. How the rest of the world just keeps moving on, even though a huge part of yours has just ended.

I want you to know that I tried my hardest, and how I wish so much that I could have saved your dear one. Even though you wanted to throw all the money you had at it, it was just one of those things that nothing would fix. How I wish tragedy would never befall people so loving, so kind and caring. Of all the people in the world, how could this happen to you? I don’t know, I just don’t.

I want to thank you for taking this little soul into your hands, into your family, and giving it a wonderful home, a wonderful life. And though it ended so suddenly, that life was full and rich. That you gave your beloved one a final gift: to go quietly, painlessly, and in peace.

I want you to know that you’re not alone.

I set the pen down. Sigh. I have no idea what to write. How can I write a little letter like this, an insignificant cluster of words, when your world has been torn apart? How pointless it is to send you a letter. Useless words. I’m just sorry. I’m so sorry.

//roles

2010-05-10T02:16:00.000-07:00

There are six of them in a carry cage. They can barely breathe; the snuffling noses and rattling chests are audible from across the table. They’re so small, too small for me to see a vein. It will have to be straight into the heart. I pick one out. It's too weak to struggle. Its heart is fluttering wildly. I line up the needle and pass it between the ribs. The kitten twitches as the needle passes through the skin. I falter. I miss the heart. I pull out. My hands are shaking. Deep breath. Try again. I miss a second time. Poor kitten, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. The kitten is starting to wriggle now. I close my eyes. Oh kitten, I don't want to do this, it's not fair.

No. No. Shut off the emotion. That's it. Focus on the procedure. Do it right. Do it perfect. Focus. Hands are steady now. There are the landmarks. Put your needle right there. Do it fast. Inject. Feel the heart stop. Good job. Well done. The next one is instant. Keep them coming. I'm good at this, see? The nurse passes me the last kitten. This one is the liveliest of the bunch. It looks at me with huge, bewildered eyes. "I don't know, either," I whisper. "I just don't."

I gather the little bodies and wrap them in a towel. The lady from the RSPCA informs me that I should expect another batch this afternoon. I go back into my consult room. Wash the table. Wash my hands. Look in the one way mirror on the wall and fix my hair. There's a consult waiting. You should see them. Come on, drag yourself away from the mirror. Dry the table. Dry your hands. Dry your eyes.

Deep breath. A smile creeps across my face. I feel it reach my eyes. I call them in. The smile reaches my voice. These owners have a kitten fresh from the pet shop. I teach them how to feed it and treat it for fleas and worms. We laugh and make small talk as I vaccinate the kitten. On her way out the owner thanks me. "You must have so much fun," she says, smiling. "Playing with animals all day." I say nothing, just smile back. My mind still filled with those big bewildered eyes.

2010-05-08T00:02:00.000-07:00

The smile melts from my face as my hand reaches for the doorhandle. "Come in," I say.

A regalement of trials and tribulations, lost loves and heartache. Pain and suffering and awaiting swift embrace of death. "Don't blame yourself," I find myself saying, lying, "You did nothing wrong."

"It all happens so quickly, in the blink of an eye." I always think about the suffering of the poor animal, as it sits on the consult-room table, waiting for the angel-of-death- I'll be there soon enough. But just one more minute will not be so bad, your pain will be over soon; your owners' pain is just beginning.

The greatest cruelty of death is that it ends your pain, only to leave your loved ones behind to deal with it. It's a cruel thing for a person to have to do, to kill another creature. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. I watch them sink to the stainless steel, and the tears roll down the cheeks. "...My condolences."

My hand touches the warmed handle of the consult room door as they leave the body behind.

The door swings open again, a benevolent smile breaking across my face. "So how's kitten been going?" I say to the six-year-old clutching her new best friend with eyes as honest and naive as her own. "Just here for the first vaccination?"

2010-05-07T20:42:00.000-07:00

An unconprehensive list of Things That Suck

-Being on call
-Working on a Friday night
-Being on call when it's heavily raining
-Not having had dinner yet at 9pm
-A client calls you but can't make it into the clinic for forty minutes. So it's not worth locking everything up, driving home, then coming back and doing it all in reverse
-The power goes out. Vet clinics are pretty eerie after hours when you're alone, and approximately six times more so in Complete Darkness
-All the machines start beeping, flashing and printing things at you because they've been reset. Unplugging them just makes them madder
-The internet connection is broken, so the next thirty minutes you have to spend alone in an eerie vet clinic with nothing to do (other than think up things you could post online, and be unable to post them).
-ALL OF THE ABOVE. AT THE SAME TIME.

FML.

2010-05-06T01:42:00.000-07:00

Veterinary practice is a dangerous business.

I've faced very many a growling, snarling, snapping aggressive dog and managed to get a vaccine down its nose. Or look in its eye. Or check its broken leg. Or give it a rectal exam. I've had my hand inside the mouths of more dogs (entirely conscious so I can give it a tablet) than I can even think of counting. Hundreds, maybe.
I've approached many a hissing furious cat that didn't like human contact and somehow managed to stab it with a needle. I'm also allergic to cat saliva, so fun times all around.
I've been trapped between two unhappy extremely large cows while pregnancy testing one (eg rectally, and I'm small so I was in up to my shoulder, and the cow was deeply displeased about this fact) while the other one was standing my foot so I couldn't back off. (Steel toed boots are sturdy, you might notice this when the 600kg cow is crushing the metal plate into your foot).
I've caught, pinned down and jabbed pain relief into a very painful angry snake that had been mauled by a dog.
I've had a penguin lock its jaws on my finger. Before you laugh at the image of a cute penguin trying to hurt anyone, google a picture of a blue penguin and have a good long look at that hooked, razor sharp predatory beak.
I've had many a crushing/tearing/shearing injury from an enraged parrot. I've also had hissing, screaming cockatoos take a lunge for my face. That's never fun.
I've picked up the back leg of a touchy colt that hadn't been exposed to lot of human contact. It tried to double barrel me when I jabbed it in the rump.
I've held down a massive wedge-tailed eagle with a bigger wingspan than my height as it was gassed down for surgery. Its talons were bigger than my hands. And looked like they could crush a skull with ease.

Teeth, claws, beaks, hooves, horns, spurs, even wings and skin and tails - every single animal has some form of self defense and they become more willing to use them the more frightened or painful they are. And at a veterinary clinic, they're often both.

These are the things that go through my head every time a client asks me about the plainly visible scar across my forearm which bisects across one of the prominent veins, the scar that I got from the edge of the consult room table.

2010-05-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

Perhaps one of the least pleasant ways to start a week is to be facing a sudden, unexpected moral dilemma.
A client decided to euthanase a black cockatoo chick with a completely backwards knee that might never be normal even after surgery. I took the quietly squalling bundle of fluff out the back. One of the vet nurses sighed, “What a shame. Can’t we do something? If it will have a good quality of life then I’d be proud to find it a home as a pet.”

And then, suddenly the responsibility was on me. Would this little one live or die?

I thought about the corella I’d met up north at the avian specialists who got around with one leg and his beak. I thought about disabled people and their amazing stories, their daily triumphs.
I thought about these birds in the wild, fierce and strong and free. Of all the one-legged seagulls out there.
I thought about how ethically unsound it was to do something without the owner’s permission. If that mattered if my heart told me I should save a life. If I could call the owner and ask. How much trouble I’d be in if my boss found out.
I thought about a huge cockatoo with only one leg and what that would do to his remaining leg. I thought about my own parrot and how much he enjoyed manipulating his food and toys and new objects with one leg while standing on the other. How he stood there eyes half closed in contentment as he gently brushed his cheek feathers with one foot.
I thought about whether I could add another member to my flock of eight birds. About how needy cockatoos could be. About how unpleasant black cockatoos could be as pets. How frustrated it might get if it was given such a life. Would it scream? Would it pluck itself bald? I thought about one day when we wished we had euthanased it to begin with.
I thought about my colleagues and people I’d met who had rescued animals who were differently abled. How those animals were happy and well and living long lives. About the dedication and heroic actions of those people who had given them a chance.

For about fifteen minutes, this little one’s life hung in the balance. He squalled at me, hungry. He was the same size as my own parrot who I loved with all my heart. He was warm and soft and I felt his little bird heart racing away.
I ended his life. It was quiet and painless.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was right.
I hated myself every moment of it.
I hated myself for the rest of the day. And the next. And the next. Until it became another smudge in my mind. Yet another mark on my conscious, another weight to bear. One more life to add to that very long list. The list that would only keep growing.

2010-05-03T04:52:00.000-07:00

I had a day off work today. Because I'm sick. With the cold that everyone at work has given me. Only I'm a casual so I won't get paid. FML

2010-04-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

Please note, that in general- walk-in (without appointment) euthanasias are generally a bad idea.

2010-04-30T01:35:00.000-07:00

DEAR: Veterinary nurses and support staff,
Please kindly inform the veterinarian on duty in the operating theatre that there are clients in the treatment room having their animal euthanased, so that a statement such as "Give me your GODDAMN TESTICLES, YOU STUPID DOG!" stays internalised during the ~~slipppery~~ isolation/exteriorisation portion of a routine castration.

2010-04-27T07:23:00.000-07:00

What's the real difference between two cases? The owners.
Treating "exotic" (non cat and dog) animals like rodents, rabbits, and birds is always tricky, because they cost so little to purchase in the first place. Medication costs do not change proportionally with animal size, and we still have to factor in the cost of a vet’s time. In fact, we often undercharge time for smaller animals, because most of the same procedures are fiddlier and take twice as long to do – but people are less willing to pay more for them. (I never really did understand how that works). Society has placed a certain value on these animals, and for that we must pay.

I met this lady for the first time when she'd adopted a free rabbit and wanted a check up. In succession, this rabbit got a weepy eye, a skin infection, and then an abscess. The last is notoriously hard to treat in rabbits - it would take weeks and would most likely end up costing more than surgery. She chose to persist anyway. I was ready to mention euthanasia if she even hinted that cost would be an issue, but she never did. She was frightened of needles but learnt how to do it and got quite adept at it. She injected the rabbit every two days for six weeks and spent literally hundreds for the rabbit she’d only had for (when I first saw it) a week. And, against the odds, the abscess is healing. The owner thanked me for all my efforts and giving her little rabbit a go every time I saw her.

I met this other lady for the first time when her rat developed a nasal lump. Both cancer and respiratory infections are common in rats and she was willing to trial antibiotics before euthanasing. I then spent many hours researching antifungals – doses, routes, classes, and then rang around to see if I could get them specially made. However, the lump had grown again and the aspirate showed mostly pus – either bacterial infection or necrosis from cancer. Last chance – I added a second, stronger antibiotic. Still no better. Since it was not responding to two full strength antibiotics, it was most likely cancer and I thought it best to euthanase if money was an issue.

The owner then read me the riot act – for having her spend $150 on her five-dollar rat. She proceeded to accuse me of taking advantage of an animal's illness to make money and announced that she was going to take her animals to another clinic. I thought about telling her that most other clinics wouldn’t even give a rat a chance – (or even a glance!), or that a specialist would have done everything the same and charged three times as much. Instead I told her that we would euthanase it at cost price - $20. An hour later she called my boss to say that it was outrageous I was still trying to make money off a dead rat with cancer and she was going elsewhere.

I don’t judge people by how much they spend on their animals. I’ve seen people spend thousands on an animal that was obviously suffering but they just didn’t want to let go; I’ve seen people who absolutely adore their animals but just can’t afford treatment. The bollocking I got made me wonder if it was worth putting my hours, my heart and my soul into healing the “exotics” when no one wanted to pay that much for them. Only briefly. Because then I think of the lady with her “free” rabbit and our unspoken yet mutual agreement in doing what we can to help these small, undervalued animals. Society has placed a certain price on them – but that doesn’t change their worth to some, very special people, who I will always hold in the highest regard. And that’s why I’ll continue to call myself an avian and exotic animal vet, and yes, I’ll continue to devote my life to them.

2010-04-27T02:56:00.000-07:00

Anaesthetising pigs is an interesting skill that I like to think I'm beginning to master.
First you pre-med the piggy with Ketamine and Xylazine in a syringe with a needle on the end of a extension set. You jab them in the muscle of the neck, the trick is to jab them on the side that's facing away from you so that when the pig jumps and tries to get away from the needle it actually moves closer to you. If they do run away then the extension set gives you a little leeway before you have to start chasing them.

Once the premed has kicked in and the piggle is recumbent, place a catheter into an ear vein (place it as peripherally as possible even though they look bigger proximally they are really wiggly, peripherally they lie in a cartilage groove and are much less mobile). Add an injection port and tape to the ear with brown tape and using a roll of elastoplast om in the inner side of the ear to stabilise it.

Give a bolus of Thio, and wait 30 secs before moving your piggy-wiggy to surgery.
Intubation requires a stylet in your ET tube, a reeeally long straight laryngoscope blade, an assistant to hold the mouth open and lignocaine spray (pigs laryngospasm as badly as cats do)
You will probably need to add another bolus of Thio at this point.
The pig has a really long soft palate, you will have to flick it off the epiglottis with your laryingoscope or ETT before you can see the arytenoids. Iggle-piggles also have substantial laryngeal saccules, if your tube goes into them it will go nowhere and twisting the tube will just move the whole larynx. Aim you tube ventrally and twist it through 90 degrees as you advance it. Tie in place as you would for a dog. Place on Iso and O2.

Ta da! Your pigwidgeon is now ready for surgerfying.

2010-04-26T14:45:00.000-07:00

One of the many delightful things about living with two other vets is that a statement like "What's all this crap doing on the bench?" can mean any one of several things.

2010-04-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

What's the real difference between two cases? The owners. One day I had highlighted this for me. I had a moderately unwell looking dog with cancer. It wasn't its usual self and it was losing weight and so the owner decided it was the kindest thing to put him to sleep. I agreed, chatted for a while about how good a dog he used to be, put a catheter in and then he passed away quickly and painlessly. He went back home to be buried and the owner was nearly in tears, despite his gruff exterior.

Later that day, I had a woman come in with a dog that had severe cancer, was barely breathing and couldn't stand up properly. She didn't want treatment, or for it to be removed (which had been offered a while ago, when the chance of success was still high). She was worried that the yelping in pain overnight would disturb the neighbours, so she over-medicated it with a human drug, which meant I had no options for pain releif. She was not interested in euthanasia, she only wanted to know if there was something else I could do, and just to check whether her medication choice was justified. There was nothing I could do. As she left, she said "Well, this was a waste of time" to which I smiled sweetly and replied "Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

2010-04-25T05:13:00.000-07:00

It wasn't until I started feeling woozy at about 6pm while putting a dog on a drip that I realised that I still hadn't had lunch.

2010-04-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

To all those aspiring young vets out there, there is one fact that you must be aware of before you plunge yourself into this industry.

Being a vet is not about animals; it is about people.

Animals are the easy bit: they have a problem, you work out what it is (or you don’t), then you either fix it or you don’t. The people are what make this job the joy and the horror that it is.

People buy animals not realising how much they cost to maintain even at the most basic level.
People give you gifts for putting a beloved pet to sleep.
People breed animals for a certain look not realising how badly this affects their health and continue to breed from them even when their vets have proven they have a serious health problem.
People compliment you on how you handle their rowdy pet and brighten up your day.
People give their cat paracetamol (acetaminophen) because it’s a bit off colour and the owner thinks it might have a headache, only to have the animal die of paracetamol toxicity.
People spend thousands of dollars to save their pets and consider their vets heroes.
People complain about how much vets charge for the emergency caesarean when they wouldn’t spend the couple of hundred dollars to get their dog spayed.
People are your colleagues who don’t mind being yanked out of their own consults to answer your stupid questions.
People don’t see the many extra hours you spend reading up on their animal’s problem to get the treatment right only to refuse treatment in favour of a cheaper option (or none at all).
People are your family to whom you can’t talk about your work because it grosses them out.
People insult you and walk out of your consult room and out of you clinic because the vet they wanted to see has left the practice.
People are your friends from uni, who are there on the end of the phone, who’ll talk to you when you’ve had an awful day, and make you laugh and help you carry on to fight another day.

2010-04-22T01:58:00.000-07:00

Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. (Sleep). Work. Eat. Sleep.

Repeat until soul is completely destroyed.

2010-04-21T06:19:00.000-07:00

Being a vet is not what I do, it’s what I am. I knew that from a very young age. My mum recently told me that at the age of three, when I found out that there was a type of doctor that looked after animals, I decided that was what I was going to be. Twenty years on and I achieved that dream.

Crap. What do I do now?

When I first started my vet degree I was convinced I was going to be a horse vet, 2 lectures on horses later and I’d pretty much decided against that. After that I fell in love with wildlife work, until I discovered how many diseases you could catch from wildlife! And my personal paranoia about sickness kicked in and cut that dream short. Then I started working as a nurse in an emergency centre and discovered a passion for emergency work, its speed and its variety. I also discovered the pure joy that was surgery, using nothing but my hands and my wits to fix a problem.

So where to from here?

Do I go out into general practice use the gruelling reality of day-to-day practice to hone the skills imparted by university? Do I leap into an internship and start down the intensive path to specialisation? Do I try my hand at doing emergency work straight from uni in the ultimate baptism of fire?

With so many choices available I did the logical thing, paralysed, I did absolutely nothing.

And, just by chance, a job fell into my lap. A job doing incredible research, working with sheep and pigs and dogs. A job I hadn’t even thought possible as a new grad let alone considered. A job a million miles from a tiny girl's dream of playing doctor to puppies.

Isn’t life odd?

1.02: Roles

2010-04-21T05:30:00.000-07:00

I step into the consult room for a routine vaccination, smile and pat the dog, make small talk with the owners, send them on their way, and expect not to see them again for another year.
I step into the room with a dying cat, the adrenaline rushing through me, urgent and straight to the point (and very quickly I step right out again and run very fast with the animal to the treatment room.)
I step into the room with the rabbit I’ve been treating for months for the same problem, the owner I know very well now, and just wish I had a quick and simple answer for the nice people who have spent hundreds on their beloved little rabbit.
I step into the room to tell the owner his dog has cancer.
I step into the room to announce that the budgie survived overnight and is going really well now.
I step into the room with the owner sobbing uncontrollably as I gently end his cat’s life.
I step into the room with a new puppy, with a huge smile and radiating positive energy that echoes off the walls.
I step into the room with the demanding owners who've left their cat with an open fracture for five days and try to explain politely why I can't treat it for free.

A consult room contains a million worlds. Every time I walk into that room I have to completely drop whatever ordeal I’ve just been through and be who I need to be. In a single hour I take four consults. In just one hour (and I work a minimum nine hours a day) I am four different people with little or no time to recover or get over what I’ve just done. It’s at the end of the day, at night, when I’m exhausted, that I take it all in. Then, I'm just me.

//beginnings

2010-04-20T04:22:00.000-07:00

After my first month in practice, my boss sat me down and asked me how I was going. I thought about all the mistakes I’d made, the dumb things I’d done or said, and the deep sadness I’d felt alongside those tiny but significant moments of triumph. One month out and I still felt useless. I needed so much support. When was I going to actually feel like a vet?

“I’m still pretty stressed out. I’m just so slow and I need so much help even now.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“I actually still feel like a bumbling student.”
“Well, get used to it.”
“What?”
“I’ve been at it twenty years and the feeling still hasn’t gone away.”

I realised then that I wasn’t alone, not really. I was going through what thousands of vets had gone through before me. Everyone, even my respected and infallible boss had done some stupid and embarrassing things. Everyone started somewhere. And even decades on, everyone is always still learning.

I guess that’s why they call it a veterinary practice.

My journey had only just begun. The road ahead was going to be long and tortuous. But I finally understood that there was no actual destination. Only the journey. There were going to be good times, there were going to be tough times, and, oh yes, there would be stories to tell.

2010-04-17T06:20:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a place closer to your home than you care to imagine an unsuspecting vet walked into an animal shelter. 3 hours later the same vet hurried out of the building with red eyes, mascara stains running down her cheeks and the deaths of nearly 30 healthy, happy, playful animals on her concience.

Death is a part of our job, we all know that. It makes us unique. Cops, soldiers, abbettior workers... There aren't many jobs where you're trained even encouraged to kill, and even then for most people in those professions deaths are not a regular occurance. Maybe one day a cop will have to pull the trigger, or a soildier gets deployed to a war zone, but for the majority life will flow peacefully by. For the unlucky few, councilling, mental health leave, compensation. Whatever they need to make all the memories and the nightmares go away.

I spent 3 hours murdering society's unwanted and forgotten animals then headed back to the clinic to discuss how to de-flea and worm your dog. I cried myself to sleep for 3 days.

This week I go back. And next month. And the one after. And the one after that.

Fairytales don't have happy endings, they have morals to teach a lesson. Maybe one day society will listen and there will be no need for me to go back. But maybe one day isn't soon enough.

2010-04-17T05:18:00.000-07:00

VETERINARIANS, SOLDIERS & EXECUTIONERS: The only professions where killing something isn't an accident.

2010-04-15T02:19:00.000-07:00

What? Oh, right. Sure. Real mature. Uh huh.

2010-04-14T05:48:00.000-07:00

A CHANCE TO RANT #1

I've spent longer at university than I care to remember, owing tens of thousands of dollars to the government while all my friends are buying shiny new cars and getting drunk and then writing off those cars and then buying newer, shinier ones.

I've been up long into the night with a colicky horse, or a stomach torsion and then been up and chipper for morning rounds, while attempting to look like I'm not an idiot. Which I must admit is pretty hard with a perfect outline of my watch permanantly imprinted into my forehead.

I've read countless textbooks too heavy to even carry and piles of notes that make the books look like instruction manuals for your new waffle machine. Step one: open machine, Step two: put in waffle mix, Step three close and turn on, step four: open later and consume the waffle and repeat steps 1-4. Doesn't really require instructions, now does it?

I have an in-depth understanding of absolutely everything that goes on in an animal from the Krebs cycle all the way to the creation of proteins and development from a foetus. That's right, if I wanted and had the necessary tools, I could probably build an animal from the ground up like a mechanic on a car. Maybe not a dog, but I reckon I could make a perfectly good newt if given enough time.

I have experienced what it is like to have less sleep than a mother with a newborn and still managed to sneak in four hours of cartoons. And they weren't even good cartoons either, but I watched them anyway, just because I could.

I've held a dying being in my hand and kept it alive long enough to fix it.

I probably know more about your animal than you do... in fact, I probably know your animal better than you know... well, anything. Not that that's anything to be proud of, trust me, you do NOT want to know more about ANYTHING than I do about animals.

I don't want to sound arrogant, but really, what I'm getting at is-
I AM A VETERINARIAN, GODDAMN IT!

So the next time I drop something, or trip over... I will be the one to decide if it's funny.

2010-04-14T01:41:00.000-07:00

Five long years of university and a degree in a highly esteemed profession.

We're vets.

2010-04-12T16:35:00.000-07:00

Sing for the fallen

Oh blinding pain and I can't feel my paws
Hit by a car as they rushed for the stores
It was agony all night, and all through the day
"Wanted to see how it went" was all they could say

In a building of stone, 3 deep in cages
Meowing at the vets who take us in stages
Quick jab in the heart and the noises will fade
Thank heavens our destiny's already been made

In a cold, windy morning, 10 deep downwind
No wool on our backs, may well have been skinned
The shelter is there, not ten feet ahead
but the barbed wire cuts, as I'm pushed by the dead

My splint jars at an angle "I've fixed it" he said
"If I hadn't I'd rather shoot the bitch in the head"
"She's no good for showing, and her pups are too small"
I just lick at my wounds and curl up in a ball

"Never done this before", she said when I bit
The kid down the street when my tether had split
Never seen a kid, ever! Or a dog, not a soul
Except for my owner when he refilled my bowl

But none of that matters, it's dusted and done
But many will follow, the battle's not won
So sing for the fallen, as loud as you can
For all those who died for the actions of man

2010-04-12T04:59:00.000-07:00

NOTE TO SELF: Never forget that the Irony Gods love you. Don't even THINK about things that would tempt them in the slightest. Like when you're standing nekkid in the bathroom after your morning shower before breakfast thinking, OMG I can't believe I didn't get one single call all day or overnight, not even for advice! Haha! because that's when the universe will decide to give you a present in the shape of a whelping where the the last pup was born dead and the one coming is long overdue.

NOTE TO SELF, ADDITIONAL: Now I wonder how many professionals I call might actually be naked while I'm talking to them on the phone.

2010-04-08T02:05:00.000-07:00

NOTE TO SELF: Stop getting so excited every time you walk past the pathology lab. There's no need to prepare to show off your MAD SKILLZ™, because that's just the haematology analyser that sounds uncannily like the sound Mario makes when he jumps. No, there's no secret Nintendo stashed away in there. (You already checked.) (Twice.)

NOTE TO SELF, ADDITIONAL: Stop making plans to play the Mario Bros theme on the cd player in the path lab, just so you can imagine like you're a) playing Mario while at work or b) being Mario while at work because you're somewhat vertically challenged.

2010-04-07T19:26:00.000-07:00

After a long morning of difficult cases without definative answers, I can sit back and relax in the fact that most of my university degree is worthless compared to a little bit of background knowledge and a hell of a lot of common sense.

And doesn't it prove the last 5 years worthwhile when a woman needs to come all the way in to have a qualified veterinarian crack open a dose of Frontline backliner for her?

2010-04-06T17:09:00.000-07:00

Interesting dog comes in... when I say interesting, I really mean "terrifying". Now don't get me wrong, I love Rottweilers, they're probably my favourite breed. But when a 50+kg entire male Rottie comes in that "doesn't like human contact", hasn't been seen since it was a month old and the Owner is struggling to keep from lunging at me... well... I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back after some sedatives... or a bullet... from a distance...

2010-04-06T02:29:00.000-07:00

One of the many delightful things about moving in with two other vets is that the fridge is always full of surprises. For example, one might discover sheep faeces for faecal egg count in a jam jar, mastitic milk in a "yellow top container" (ie vegemite jar), and what could be either someone's microbial culture and sensitivity or an orange that's been left in the fridge for six weeks.

2010-04-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

MENTAL NOTE: Watching people express anal glands, and expressing anal glands yourself are two very different things. Further; I've discovered that a 'cow-milking' technique works quite well. I've subsequently removed dairy products from my diet.

1.01: Beginnings

2010-04-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

It hit me, in a moment of sheer terror, that first day when I walked into the consult room with my named printed on a drug label and stuck on a badge over where SAMPLE ONLY was engraved, and there was a puppy urinating on my hand and an owner asking me if desexing was reversible that Holy crap, I’m not a student anymore, I’m a fully qualified veterinarian.

After having my hand held, constant supervision, unlimited access to all the textbooks and journals I could want and bumming around with my friends at Hogwarts School of Vetness, I was now in the Big Wide World. I had Responsibilities. I had a You Can Vet Now certificate. I had Keys to the Restricted Drug Drawer. I had to make my own decisions, I had to figure out what was wrong with the animal and fix it, and I had to take life and death into my own hands. Oh crap, am I really ready for this? How am I going to make it through my first day alive?

And how on earth am I going to survive out here on my own?