Thursday, February 26, 2009

Hot dog!


Alan was an interesting character. He was a vet who had qualified from Cambridge university. He was obviously intelligent but also somewhat a maverick. He drew great amusement from being controversial, as well as being witty to the clients.

I remember in one of his consultations, an owner of an epileptic dog (where the brain goes through episodes of spasms leading to fitting/seizuring), brought the dog in for recent fitting. This dog had been diagnosed for sometime with epilepsy and was prescribed the appropriate medication for the dog to decrease/stop the fitting. Unfortunately, the owner was not giving the medicine so the dog continued to seizure with increasing severity. Alan decided that the best way to illustrate the importance of medication, was to draw a picture of a dog standing with some round circles (representing tablets) and a "+"sign on the whiteboard in the consult room. This was his illustration for the dog on medicine. He then proceeded to draw another dog upside-down dead beside the first drawing. This he explained was the dog with no medicine!

Anyhow, there was one memorable incident involving Alan. On one particular day, an owner brought in her Golden Retriever dog who was off her food and showing signs of a brown vaginal discharge (pus). Alan went through the consultation discussing the signs the dog was showing and began his physical examination.

Alan often multi-tasked during consults, like a head chef in a busy kitchen! So he put a thermometer into the backside (anus) of the dog to take her temperature. The thermometer, which Alan used, was a traditional glass tube/straw with mercury inside. Normally it takes a couple of minutes for the thermometer to register the dog's body temperature.

Most vets hold the thermometer in place when taking the temperature. Alan however decided it was always more efficient to leave the thermometer in place (sticking out the backside!) and continue doing something else. So Alan continued to examine the dog from the head end - checking the eyes, gums and so on, while the thermometer was pointing out the dog's anus.

After a few minutes, Alan went to remove the thermometer to record the temperature; only to find that the thermometer had vanished! The dog's gut had sucked the thermometer into the dog just like a vacuum cleaner! Gentle probing with a gloved finger in the anus found nothing! The owner wasn't aware of what had happened so Alan acted calmly like nothing was wrong! Being made of glass and containing mercury, the thermometer could not be left in the dog and left to pass out naturally.

Fortunately, the dog had a serious infection of the uterus (pyometra) and so needed surgery to correct the condition (remove the uterus). Alan told the owner that the dog was in a serious condition and needed surgery as soon as possible. The owner agreed to allow Alan to operate so he took the dog straight to surgery (with the aim of removing the uterus and retrieving the lost thermometer).

Surgery to remove the uterus went well and Alan found that the thermometer had moved high up the colon. He massaged the gut wall pushing the thermometer downwards and eventually out of the anus (browner and smellier than before). The nurse removed the thermometer and put it safely away (from Alan!).

The dog made a full recovery from her uterine infection and surgery, although Alan never really did find out what her temperature was!

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

An eternal flame

One of my colleagues, Kevin, was an experienced vet who once had an interesting tale to tell. One day when Kevin was working, an owner rushed in with her Pekingese dog. This dog was a 13 year old female dog that had a long standing heart problem. The heart valves of this dog were not operating well. Normally, heart valves allow the blood to circulate inside the heart in one direction. This allows the blood to flow well and the heart to be able to efficiently pump the blood around the body.

This dog was diagnosed with this heart problem for a few years and was on the appropriate medication for the condition. Unfortunately, this type of condition is progressive, meaning that it will get worse with time despite medication. The drugs that were used had the effect of slowing the deterioration in the heart and minimising any problems associated with a faulty heart. The dog had been stable for many years but the owner was aware that at some point, the dog may rapidly worsen and pass away.

One day when Kevin was in the clinic, the dog was rushed in as an emergency. The dog had collapsed and stopped breathing for at least 10 minutes before being brought into the veterinary surgery. The owner was in hysterics and crying loudly. On examination, the dog was found to be dead - no heart beat or breathing. The owner was understandably in a complete state of shock but wanted Kevin to do everything possible to try and resuscitate her little baby.

Because this dog had been dead for at least 10 minutes, the prognosis really was hopeless for this poor little girl. Despite this and as a result of the owner's insistence, Kevin decided to proceed with resuscitation of this dead dog. He rushed the dog into the operating theatre and gave the dog oxygen into the airways and fluid into vein to try and maintain the blood pressure. The nurse performed fast chest compressions to try and help the blood circulate around the body. Kevin also administered the appropriate drugs to try and stimulate the dog back into life.

None of Kevin's attempts as a faith healer, were having any effect at all and so Kevin decided to try and shock the heart back into action. There was a new defibrillator in the clinic and Kevin thought this was the patient to try it out on. A defibrillator is a machine that delivers an electric shock to the heart to try and stimulate the heart into action. A defibrillator consists of 2 handles with metal plates that are pressed onto the patient's chest. In all honesty, these devices aren't that useful in veterinary medicine unless used during surgery when the heart can stop suddenly and then be immediately energized. Also they are often used for certain abnormal rhythms of the heart, which are more commonly encountered in humans than animals.

Defibrillators are powerful machines sending strong electric shocks/pulses through the body. When the shock is being given, it is very important for others to stand away from the person administering the electric pulse and for there to be no metal in contact once the shock is given. So Kevin charged up the machine, shouted "Clear" and administered the first shock - unsurprisingly, the dog was still dead; no pulse, no heart beat and no breathing.

Undeterred, Kevin decided to administer another shock. This time however, once the shock was given, the dog's fur caught fire and began to smoke!! This dog's coat was burning with a small flame and setting off the smoke alarm!! Maybe this was Kevin's way of warming up the body or sending smoke signals to other dogs to let them know that this dog was well and truly dead!

Kevin and the nurse threw a wet towel on the dog to put out the fire and informed the owner that resuscitation was unsuccessful. The owner decided to cremate the dog's body and have the ashes buried. I suppose that if Kevin had continued trying to defibrillate this dog, the owner may have saved money on having to pay for a cremation service!




Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I seek her here, I seek her there, I seek her blo*dy everywhere!


Yesterday at the clinic, we had quite an amusing story worth telling. We often work closely with some welfare/charity groups, who occasionally catch/trap stray animals. These animals are brought into the clinic to be checked over for any disease and then de-sexed, wormed, given flea treatment and vaccinated. More often than not the animals brought in are cats and the majority of these strays are naturally scared and nervous around people.

Some of the cats become used to human interaction and can then be sent to loving homes, whereas others prefer to remain as free spirits and so are returned to a life on the street (makes them sound like prostitutes!). So yesterday at the clinic, one of these street cats was brought in - she was quite young but absolutely terrified. On a positive note, she didn't seem aggressive like some of the ones we experience - no hissing, no swiping through the cage and no attempts to claim a souvenir of human flesh!!

This poor little kitty was so petrified that she obviously wanted to escape at the first opportunity. We decided that the best course of action was to leave the cat in her own kennel for a day or two. This would allow her to adjust and familiarise herself with her new surroundings. We decided we would do nothing with her apart from provide her with fresh food, water and litter for the first day and then try to see if she would be responsive to any human interaction.

But cats don't always follow the rules!! After being in the kennel for only a few hours, the cat made a complete mess of her new residence! She was like the tenant from hell - who had just decided to have a massive rave party and turn the place upside-down. We decided that we would not disturb her and leave for one day and night and then once she had calmed down and was less stressed - we would proceed with the necessary veterinary treatment. Simple plan - what could go wrong?!?

Just before closing the clinic (once all the consultations had finished), one of the junior nurses, Jane, noticed that this stray cat's kennel was messy and decided that being a caring soul, she would clean it so that the cat would have a comfortable night! As soon she opened the kennel door, whoomph!!! The Harry Houdini of the cat world had made her great escape!!!! The nurse ran frantically looking for the cat but she was nowhere to be seen. She ran to front of the hospital in a panic letting us all know that there was a cat somewhere loose in the clinic.

Fortunately, all the doors and windows to the outside world were firmly shut so we knew the cat was somewhere in the hospital. We began a search party - with 3 vets (one of us being the boss) and all the nurses looking all over for this escapologist!! We looked high, we looked low, we looked under and above cupboards/shelves, in boxes - we looked everywhere we could. This cat was nowhere to be seen. We even had one of the nurses' dogs, a West Highland White Terrier in the clinic - although, he decided he couldn't be bothered to look - not very terrier like, I must say!

After one hour of making the hospital topsy-turvy, Jane, the junior nurse, found the cat in the boss' office (very tempting to just leave the cat there)!! She was feeling extremely embarassed and guilty for this whole episode and tried to remedy the situation all by herself!! She tried to pick up the cat herself and then carry the kitty back to the kennel! As I arrived at the boss' office, I noticed Jane coming out looking pale, covered in scratches and dripping with blood (like a scene from a horror movie!). The cat had won the wrestling match with Jane!!

There was absolutely no way this cat was going to be handled, so we had to try and trap the cat into a mobile crate/cage. The best way was to keep the cat confined in the office and put the cage down on the floor, draped with a towel and the door left open. Cats like dark, secluded places and so hopefully, this towel-draped crate was going act as a nirvana for this little kitty. We just needed to convince her to go in (or more precisely, chase her in!).

The office wasn't very big, so being "The Boss' Private Area", he decided to be part of the duo that were going to force the cat into the cage. The other part of the duo was the Head Nurse. The rest of us remained outside the door listening intently to what was going on inside! For 10 minutes or so, there was clattering, crashing, hissing, shouting and f-bombs! It was like there was a riot inside!

But then joy behold - the cat was successfully trapped in the cage and then released back into her original kennel -with a new sign in big, black bold letters saying "DO NOT OPEN!!".

As for the boss' office, the papers were everywhere and the stationary all over the floor - a total and utter mess with the added frosting of being smeared with cat urine, faeces and the fish-smelling anal gland secretions. What a bonus for the rest of us for having to stay an extra hour after work!!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Kidney beans!!


The following story was one of the most shocking that I know of as a vet. Fortunately, incidents like the one I am about to recall are rare and not often encountered.

My veterinary clinic had been dealing with this geriatric male German Shepherd (13 year old) dog for several years (since the dog was around 6-7 years old). German Shepherd dogs (GSD) are often hosts to many different diseases and as a result don't often live much beyond 12 years of age. This dog had been in good health for many years but now in the twilight years of his life, he developed problems passing stools and urine.

He was finding it painful to go to the toilet normally and seemed in quite a lot of discomfort. As a result of his pain, he was becoming increasingly tired and inappetant. When the vet (Mark) dealing with the case, examined the dog, he found him to have a very painful prostate gland (male sexual organ sitting at end of the bladder). Tests were run on the dog including blood samples and diagnostics (xrays and ultrasound) to allow visualisation/examination of the prostate.

The blood tests showed the old dog's bodily organs to be functioning normally. However, the prostate gland looked quite abnormal and large. Mark the vet seemed quite surprised by the findings since the owner had insisted that the dog had been castrated (desexed) at another veterinary practice when he was a young puppy.

Our clinic had no record of the castration since he only became our client once he was middle-aged and the surgery had already been performed. The reason I mention castration - is that a lot of prostate problems develop as a result of the hormone testosterone. Therefore, it is unusual for castrated dogs to develop prostate problems later in life because the testicles (which produce the testosterone) have been removed.

So anyhow, this dog should not have had a prostate problem. The scrotum (testicular sack) was empty (no jewels in the purse as we say!). Mark confirmed with the owner that the dog had definitely been castrated as a puppy. The owner was absolutely certain - he even had the bill from many years ago for the castration at the other practice!

On the bill, the owner had certainly been charged for a castration. The owner was charged more than the normal cost of the surgery because one testicle was retained in the abdomen (cryptorchid). Cryptorchidism is when one or both testicles have not descended into the scrotum. They normally are either stuck in the abdomen or somewhere in the groin. These testicles can become problematic later in life, as they don't always develop properly. Surgery to remove a retained testicle takes longer than a routine castration and so naturally, justifies a higher fee.

So this dog had everything proving it had been castrated: an empty pouch and a bill charged for a castration. So Mark decided that this likely prostate problem needed sorting either way and recommended going surgically into the abdomen to examine the organ and to get a biopsy (sample) of it for analysis. Surgery for the abnormal prostate went well - it was examined and the organ biopsied.

When Mark was in the abdomen, he checked the other organs of the body at the same time to see that they all appeared to be normal. Everything seemed fine except that there was an additional resident in the abdomen.There seemed to be a testicle inside. Puzzled, Mark decided that this needed to be removed and sent away to be analysed. This wasn't the end of the story - full examination of the abdomen revealed only one kidney. The other kidney was absolutely nowhere to be seen - a Houdini organ!!

After completing the surgery, Mark confirmed with the owner that the dog had never had any other surgeries except castration at a young age. The client had owned the dog since he was a very young puppy and could confirm that castration was the only surgery. The biopsy result confirmed that the tissue Mark removed was a testicle!! The dog also unfortunately had prostate cancer, which resulted in a very poor prognosis. Incidently, prostate cancer (although rare) seems more common in castrated dogs.

So the only logical conclusion was that the vet performing the castration on this dog (when he was a puppy), accidently mistook a kidney for a testicle. This led to the dog living most his life with one kidney and still with one testicle. I have heard of people meeting strangers in bars and then drugging them to steal one of their kidneys to sell as a transplant. But I very much doubt this old dog got given a date-rape drug when looking for a date!!

Kidneys look quite different from testicles. For one, they are normally much bigger and secondly, they are a reddish-brown colour whereas a testicle looks pink! Fortunately, animals and humans can happily survive with one kidney providing the other kidney is healthy. This dog was luckily unaffected by being an involuntary organ donor!

The irony was that surgery to remove a kidney is actually far more technical than simply removing a testicle. The bill showed that they only charged for a castration, whereas really a nephrotomy (kidney removal) is far more expensive!!

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Vodka drops - apply on back of pet's neck for flea control!


When I used to work for a charity clinic, I ended up often seeing all sorts of clients. One memorable character I encountered was a middle-aged lady who brought her dog in for a skin complaint. The dog was a large crossbreed, who was scratching and licking himself excessively all over (not just the butt and genitalia and then your face - like most dogs do!). This was a result of him being itchy and so his skin looked red and irritated.

I examined the dog while the nurse held him on the table for me. On his fur, there was an army of fleas all over. His body was crawling with the little blighters! Not only that all the faeces they had produced (black specks) made him look like a walking flea sewage system!! Poor dog I thought to myself.

I explained my findings to the owner (a little surprised she hadn't noticed the fleas herself). My recommendation was to initiate some flea treatment (drops on the back of the neck) for the itchy boy and give him some tablets to stop the scratching in the meantime. I also recommended that she treat her house for the flea eggs.

So what was her response? "Thank you - how kind of you to treat my dog. I appreciate your professional advice and of course, I will take your recommendations and start relieving the discomfort of my poor dog". I wish it was that easy.......nothing close!!

This lady was absolutely drunk. The alcohol on her breath was so strong, that her just breathing on the dog would probably have been enough to kill the fleas (or at least make them intoxicated enough to fall off sideways!). Her response to my advice, was that I had no idea what I was talking about and that all her dog needed were steroids to stop the scratching. She denied that there were any fleas whatsoever on her dog.

At this point, I tried to point out the fleas for her to see with her own eyes, the little parasites crawling around her dog's body. The fleas were absolutely all over the dog, with a population density like Singapore, with bodies everywhere. The owner said that I was lying and there was nothing there. Understandably, I was getting irritated by this lady's stubborn and drunken behaviour.

Eventually, I lost my cool. I pointed out to the lady that both myself and the nurse could clearly see the fleas and that if she didn't have her beer goggles on and could actually see with any clarity at all, she would also be able to see them! I told her that she clearly didn't value my professional opinion and promptly sent her and the poor dog on their way (probably back to the pub!).

The following day, the lady returned to my clinic and sheepishly apologised for her behaviour the previous day. She agreed that my diagnosis was correct and took both the flea control and medicine I recommended. I think she probably bought for me a bottle of wine as a peace offering but ended up drinking it herself in the end!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Biggles the flying hamster!



One story that is very common amongst vets is problems with hamsters! I have heard many stories regarding these small furry and seemingly innocent creatures.

Hamsters are by nature nocturnal (awake at night) and a prey species (meaning larger animals such as birds of prey, hunt them for food). As a result of this, they often aren't too happy by having to come to the vet clinic. Once they arrive in the consult room during the day, they are normally trying to sleep and get pretty fed up by being disturbed (like anyone of us would). They normally arrive in a cage and hiding in some small plastic container (takeaway meal?). So as vets, we need to put our hand into the tiny door of the cage and then pick up the hamster.

From the hamster's perspective, what they see is a big clumsy hand blocking out all light and trying to grab them. So it is not unusual for them to wriggle around, try to escape and fight for their life! I know of one vet called Robert who once was examining a Syrian hamster for a minor ailment, when all of a sudden the hamster bit him.

Syrian hamsters in particular are known for biting and not being the most friendly of creatures! It may sound pretty pathetic, but I can definitely confirm that a hamster bite is excruciatingly painful. Their teeth are like needles that lock onto your finger and will not release under any circumstances. It seriously hurts!!!

So anyway, this particular hamster decided to sink its teeth into Robert. Robert's natural urge was to pull away his hand as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Robert's sharp and swift instinctive withdrawal of the hand resulted in the hamster being propelled towards the back wall of the consult room! This flying hamster went splat into the wall and fell promptly to the ground.

It had instantly died with its posterior being the last thing to go through its mind!! The poor little fellow had bitten to try and escape with its life but ended up dying as a kamikaze! Obviously the owner was both stunned and upset by the rapid unfolding of events! Robert was lost for words and extremely embarassed by being a rodent murderer. If only they made parachutes and small helmets for hamsters - a lot of injuries could be avoided!

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Starting new jobs!



On a couple of occasions on starting new jobs, I've not had the best of debuts! The first memory came when I started to work as a vet on my very first day. I had just qualified from university and was all eager to crack on with the job and to start applying the skills that I had learnt. As vets, part of the training involves spending time at veterinary clinics watching and practicing. I was quite confident after graduation, since I had spent a lot of time in charity hospitals like the RSPCA. This meant that I had seen and dealt with a relatively large number of animals as a student.

So in my first job, the boss decided to be kind and give new graduates longer time slots for consulting and eased me into the job by letting me start off with "easy" cases. Vaccinations are a great way for new vets to get used to handling and examining pets, in addition to talking to owners. My very first consult as a vet was therefore a vaccination, which should have been dead easy.

Oh no no no! - the female cocker spaniel that was to be my first patient, wasn't going to play by the rules and ease me in. She decided to make me look like a complete prat (not difficult I must say). After checking her, all I had to do was give her the general vaccination injection into the skin of her neck and the kennel cough vaccination into her nose. Kennel cough vaccines involve squirting some fluid into the nose of the dogs - easy, huh?

The injection into the neck went smoothly but once the dog saw the syringe of fluid going towards the nose - sheer pandemonium!! The dog had experienced the unpleasant feeling of fluid going into the nostril before (vaccinated against kennel cough before) and now was absolutely going to do everything in her power to prevent it again.

She was uncontrollable - she flicked her head all over the place, wriggled like a snake, tried biting and howled in agony, giving everyone else in the waiting room (and probably the street), the impression I was some animal abuser! I tried everything to try and get that 1ml of fluid into the nostril but no joy whatsoever!!

In the end, I had to take the dog around the back of the hospital and get at least 2 nurses to pin the dog's body to the ground and one nurse to hold the head still, so I didn't need to aim at a moving target! Eventually success; the fluid was in the nose and we were all dirty and sweaty from wrestling with the dog on the floor.

I was pretty embarassed by my first ever consult. I looked incapable of just giving a small squirt of vaccine into the nose without needing to spend a considerable amount of time and resources (3 nurses) on a "simple consultation". I absolutely made sure that next year, when the dog needed the annual kennel cough vaccine again, I was busy doing something else!

The whole incident reminds me of a joke where the vet tells an owner, when about to give a injection to a dog, "Don't worry it's just a small prick with a needle". To which the owner replies "Yeah, its what he's going to do with it that worries me!"

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Jack and his javelin



I used to work with a vet called Jack. He was a young guy who had just qualified but was very ambitious and a little over-confident. During the year, that I worked with Jack, he had terrible luck as you will soon find out in future blogs. I'm actually surprised that he stayed on as a vet after his first year considering his run of mishaps (although he did flirt with the idea of banking for a while).

He qualified from university as a brash, confident and stubborn lad, who was eager to do anything and everything (even if he should have left some things to more experienced hands). He left though after a year, much more conservative in his veterinary approach and far more willing to listen to the advice of others. The veterinary job is a very humbling experience - one moment you can feel great when things go well and the next day, a complete waste of space if a case goes wrong.

There was this one occasion, when an owner brought in this 45kg rottweiler to see Jack. The poor dog had been attacked by some people with bats and metal bars. On examination, Jack found the dog to be ok, although it was painful on one of his front legs. Jack decided that this dog needed x-rays of the skull, chest and painful leg. He ended up taking lots and lots of x-rays. In the end, he had his own encyclopedia of x-rays for this one case!!!

The dog was lucky that the only serious injury sustained was a broken ulna bone. The ulna is the outer bone in the front leg (arm) between the elbow and the paw. It runs adjacent to the bone called the radius and is held to it by a strong ligament. The fracture of the ulna was transverse (running horizontally across) and non-displaced (meaning the 2 fracture ends of the broken bone were sitting opposite each other).

The broken bone could have quite easily been managed conservatively by resting the dog and immobilising the leg with a bandage/splint or cast. Jack though was keen to get some bone surgery under his belt and so after discussing the options with the owner, decided the best course of action was for him to operate on the leg.

He decided to put a pin into the bone. Basically, this involves putting a metal rod into the centre of the bone to keep the fragments aligned (ironic that metal rods caused the injury and were being used to fix it!). It is normally a simple technique to perform, but to Jack's dismay, it was no ride in the park on this day.

Being a large rottweiler, the part of the bone where Jack was trying to insert the pin (from the elbow end) was very thick and extremely firm. Jack couldn't get the drill to work properly and so ended up trying to force the metal pin in manually with sheer brute force! During the insertion of the pin, Jack continued his addiction to x-raying and took several x-rays to see if the pin was going in correctly (I wondered whether Jack had some shares in selling x-ray film?!).

After pushing for what seemed an era; with little more to show than hand calluses and strained muscles, disaster struck! Jack had managed to ram only about an inch of pin into the bone (and it was still a long distance from the bone cavity where it needed to be). At this point, the pin snapped so that there was an inch of metal forced into solid bone. Jack tried to now pull out this redundant piece of pin but couldn't budge it a single millimetre. He huffed and he puffed, trying everything he could think of but eventually resigned himself to the fact that it wasn't going to move.

As the owner came in, Jack explained his troublesome day with the dog. Obviously, the gentleman was dissatisfied with the outcome and expressed his displeasure. Jack tried to offer the owner the option of letting one of the more experienced vets take over the case and remove the dog's new metal accessory for free. In the end, the owner and Jack decided to leave the broken pin in and only remove it if it began to trouble the dog at a later stage.

As for the fracture, well, it healed beautifully........how I hear you ask............by none other than a bandage and splint. As for Jack; he had cramp in his hand for a few days and was not so keen again to jump into unsupervised bone surgery.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Swab, swab.....where art thou swab?



Let me introduce you to Fred (aka swabman).....he was an old vet who I had the pleasure of working with. He was an amiable chap, who was on the verge of retiring. He had managed his own practice previously but was offered a good deal to sell up. He decided to cash in but wasn't ready to quite give up being a vet. So he decided to go and work for another clinic before he retired - this is when we became colleagues.

There was this one occasion when Fred was doing a dental procedure on a Jack Russell terrier, which basically involved just cleaning and polishing the teeth. Fred liked to put a gauze swab (basically a piece of cotton cloth-like material) at the back of the throat during the dental, to prevent water going into the airways/windpipe.

During dentals, the descaling of the teeth, which involves the removal of plaque and calculus (not the mathematical type!), can get quite messy and the ultrasonic scaler (hand held vibrating machine - No...not the one found in shops with blacked out windows!) can get quite hot. The water runs through to the tip of the descaler and into the mouth. Water is used for both cooling the descaler and preventing the burning of teeth, as well as helping to wash away the broken down plaque.

Unfortunately, water can sometimes run into the airways (even though a tube is passed into the windpipe for breathing and administering the anaesthetic). If this happens, it can occasionally cause the animal to cough a little after the procedure.

So anyhow, Fred always liked to try and prevent this by using a swab at the back of the throat. Unfortunately on this occasion though, the dog was waking up during the procedure and ended up swallowing the swab. It had completely disappeared and was already way down into the stomach. At this point, Fred had to contact the owner and inform him. He offered the option of leaving it and hoping that it would pass out naturally or alternatively, using an endoscope (a long tube allowing you look at something at the other end) to try and retrieve it. The owner of the dog opted for the latter option.

Fred got the endoscopy gear out and passed it through the dog's mouth and into the stomach. He proceeded to look for the swab. I can tell you that this procedure sounds easy but it is a lot more fiddly than you think. Fred was looking for this swab for some time but then finally, like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, his luck turned and he saw it and the end portion of the stomach.

Finding it was just half the job - now he had to retrieve it by using a pair of long forceps. Being an older man, his hand-eye coordination wasn't the greatest and this again took some time leading to even more sweat and cursing. Eventually, he finally managed to lock onto the swab and pull it out. Fred at this point was quite mentally exhausted, from what should have been a quick and easy clean of the teeth. Understandably, Fred tried to avoid doing dentals for a bit after that - too much hard graft!.

It has been said that people who regularly play video games on consoles, like the playstation, improve their hand-eye coordination and subsequently, their endoscopy skills. So many years of playing video games has been part of my veterinary training - that's what I like to tell myself anyway!

Monday, February 9, 2009

Dead as a dodo!



I once had a small elderly lady bring her dog into the clinic for a consult. What was unusual about this consultation was that the Shih Tzu dog that she brought in was stone cold dead! This dog was in rigor mortis (the process in which the body is stiff, cold and completely rigid like a statue).

Obviously, without touching the dog, as soon as the dog was put onto the table with a heavy thud/clunk, it was apparent that the dog was dead. In case there was any doubt, the fixed open glaring eyes, cold body and stiff extended limbs were further subtle clues! The only thing missing was a chalk outline around the body! The owner didn't seem to have grasped the fact that the dog had been dead for some time. I did the usual routine of checking for a heartbeat and pulse to satisfy the owner that the dog had been checked over properly and then confidently declared the dog dead (time of death at least 3 hours before the consult, as rigor mortis often kicks in after a few hours!).

The owner listened to my assessment and conclusion. She insisted that I was wrong and that I should proceed to treat the dog for its illness. This woman didn't appear to be mad, maybe just a little senile. I tried to politely explain the situation clearly to the poor lady but to no avail. After not being able to get the old dear to agree with me, I was becoming increasingly agitated and frustrated. I didn't want to start un-necessarily treating her dead dog and running up a bill that was a complete waste of money.

After she insisted on me treating her beloved pet for the umpteenth time, I ended up saying "I'm not Jesus Christ, I can't bring the dead back alive. How do you want me to start - maybe putting the dog in the microwave first to warm and loosen him up a bit?"

She decided that I was obviously not going to pander to her requests and agreed to leave. I felt sorry for her and decided that it wasn't worth charging her a consult fee. She sat in the waiting room for the next half an hour muttering to the receptionists and nurses that I was most definitely wrong. After hearing this for some time, I decided to ask the other vet to come and examine her dog and present his findings.

He kindly agreed to check the dog over and surprise, surprise, he also found the dog to be dead! She now decided that we were both wrong and in a conspiracy together. Eventually, she decided to leave and seek another vet clinic's opinion. Maybe they made money out of her and kept her happy.....I'll never know!

I've heard of the usual grief cycle of denial-anger-bargaining-acceptance, but this woman didn't even seem sad at all. All I can say is, that if she was in this grief cycle and the denial phase was so strong - I'm very glad that I never got to experience the other stages!

Gender bender



Today, I thought I'd tell a story of a mishap that had happened to me one year after qualifying. I know that numerous other vets have also made the same mistake and only last year, one of my colleagues in a branch clinic did exactly what I did several years ago.

A large proportion of a small animal practioner's surgery caseload involves neutering/desexing animals. These surgeries are routine and often are performed without incident. However, one fateful day, a lady, who had rehomed numerous cats, came to the clinic. She brought in her 6 cats for me to spay (ovariohysterectomy, where a female cat's uterus and ovaries are removed). I checked some of the cats and they were found to be normal but some were less friendly than others, resulting in just a quick check.

The clinic I was working in was very busy and often, surgery days could feel like a factory, with a conveyor belt of animals passing along. The system worked very efficiently, whereby, the animals were anaesthetized and then left with the nurses who were prepared them for the operation by shaving the fur and cleaning the skin with antiseptic.

As one patient was being prepared by the nurse, the surgeon (myself on this day) would be operating on another patient. This meant that as soon as the surgery was finished, I could rewash/clean (scrub) my hands and then walk to the other operating table and begin operating on the new animal. Most neutering procedures are straightforward and don't take very long at all, so the system worked relatively well.

The surgeries were going well that day with no problems. But then once I got to the final cat belonging to this particular lady, the problem arose. I had made my incision into the abdomen (through the side/flank of the body like a lot of British vets are taught) but then couldn't find the uterus. Occasionally, especially in obese cats, the uterus may not be easy to find within all the fat. Also there is the odd occasion (mainly in rehomed or stray cats), where the cat has been desexed before.

I was fishing around in this cat's abdomen for some time with no success. No uterus, no ovaries and not even any stumps from a previous surgery. At this point, I was getting annoyed and fed up and asked the nurse to double check that this cat was a female. As the nurse checked the back end of that cat; lo and behold, she found 2 big testicles sitting there!! I proceeded to close up the incision wound and then castrated the cat (after confirming with the owner by phone). The cat was fine and fortunately for me, the owner was very understanding.

Needless to say that ever since, I have always checked thoroughly the gender of the animals before surgery.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Foreign bodies - no......not illegal immigrants!



Very quiet day today at work so lots of time to blog!

As vets, we often encounter animals eating foreign objects. Sometimes, they move along the gut naturally and eventually pass out in the stools (browner and smellier than before). Often however, they have a tendency to get stuck somewhere inside.

There are numerous times when owners are worried about the dog eating something embarassing - such as condoms, underwear and illegal drugs. With some cases, vomiting can be initiated to bring the object out of the stomach. If they are lodged further down and causing an obstruction, surgery is often needed.

I had one owner who was worried that her dog (golden retriever) had eaten a mango stone. Large stones, corn cobs and so on, often get stuck and cause a problem. This owner however wasn't sure if the dog ate the stone, so she decided the best way to find out was to give the dog another mango stone and see if she ate it. Unsurprisingly, the dog gulped down the second mango seed - meaning the dog now had 2 stones stuck inside!! The dog had surgery to remove the 2 stones and recovered well fortunately.


I also have a regular client who has 2 lovely cats that are costing him a fortune. Every autumn, these cats have a habit of eating objects that get stuck inside. One cat likes plastic objects and the other likes carpet/material ones (carpet muncher?). Each cat has had 6 to 7 operations to remove these objects that have caused a problem. The owner has a young child and so finds it impossible to stop the child leaving or throwing objects around which the cats promptly decide to swallow. He has tried everything to stop the cats but nothing works. So far, the cats have always recovered although the owner knows one day, the cats' hobby may kill them.

We should have dedicated the new wing of the hospital to his cats considering the cost of 12+ operations probably subsidised it!

Vaccinate your pet at your own risk







I remember a story that my boss (also a vet) once experienced and thought it would be worth sharing.

An owner once brought in her pug dog in for the annual vaccination (against distemper, parvovirus, parainfluenza, hepatitis and leptospirosis). The dog had a routine check up and was found to be healthy. The vaccine was given and the dog was sent home.

Less than an hour later, the owner rang up panicking that her dog was having difficulty breathing. She was advised to bring the dog in immediately. 10 minutes later, the lady arrived with the dog dead (no heart beat and not breathing). The dog was declared dead. The owner was insistent that the vaccination was to blame and began shouting and accusing my boss of being a murderer.

The possibility of an anaphylactic (severe allergic) reaction was discussed. It has been known for animals and people to react badly to anything that they may be allergic to. This dog had never had any previous adverse reactions to the vaccinations, which seemed a little odd. It was decided that a postmortem should be conducted to determine the cause of death.

The postmortem revealed that the dog had a dog treat ("greenie") lodged at the back of the throat blocking the windpipe and stopping the dog from breathing. Pugs (like other brachycephalic dogs e.g. pekingese, bulldogs) have terrible mouths and airways, with lots of excessive and unnecessary tissue, often leading to problems during their lives.

The owner was informed that the pug had been given a treat, that had not been chewed properly resulting in it getting lodged in the airway causing an obstruction, which led to his death. The owner admitted that she had given a greenie chew to the dog once she got home from the clinic. However, she proceeded to shout and blame my boss for the poor dog's death. Her logic was that if my boss hadn't given the vaccine, she wouldn't have needed to give the dog a treat at home as a reward. She yelled further abuse and then stormed out of the clinic never to be seen again.

Maybe the pug's demise came from choosing to gargle instead of spitting or swallowing???

Smelly breath - what are they feeding you?


There was this one time when I had to do a dental procedure for a 10 year old yorkshire terrier dog. This dog had appalling teeth, with plaque/tartar as thick as cement. The dog had terrible halitosis, so smelly that the teeth ducked when the dog yawned!! So anyway, the dog was admitted for the procedure, which required a general anaesthetic.

The owner was an old lady, who listened to me and signed the appropriate consent forms during the admission. I advised her that we would clean and polish the teeth and extract/remove any rotten or loose teeth. I told her that the dog's teeth were awful and most of them (if not all) would probably be removed. The owner agreed and left the clinic happily.

The dental went smoothly but all the teeth needed to be removed. However, when the dog was collected, the owner's daughter came in. Once she found out that all the teeth were removed, she went crazy. She claimed to be a human dental nurse and that the dog needed fillings, implants etc but not extractions leaving the dog with no teeth! She fretted that the dog would starve and would never be able to eat again.

I tried to reassure her the dog would be fine and even be able to eat biscuits still. I told her dogs normally eat more after the procedure since the mouth is no longer sore. Imagine having a mouth full of aching teeth! I also tried to explain that healthy teeth has strong ligaments holding them in place, making them very difficult to extract. It would make no sense for me to make more stress and work for myself by spending ages trying to remove a healthy tooth. She had already decided that I was wrong since she was a dental nurse (not even a dentist!) and as such, was far more qualified than me to decide.

She went off with the dog, huffing and puffing and proceeded to write a letter of complaint to the boss (which was subsequently dismissed as nonsense). The dog obviously did well after, eating and drinking better than before and even gaining weight - but there is no pleasing some people!!

So remember, if your pet's teeth are so rotten with holes, making them look like dominoes, expect them to be extracted.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Hip luxation


I'm off work today but I thought I'd recollect a story about a dog I saw a few years ago. This dog was a miniature schnauzer and had a condition known as hip dysplasia. Hip dysplasia is a condition where the top of your thigh bone (femur) doesn't fit properly into the hip joint (acetabulum) and can result in damage to the normally smooth cartilage, leading to new bone formation and arthritis. Also occasionally the thigh bone can "pop" out of the joint (luxation).

Anyway, this dog had the problem in both hips. On the right leg it was causing the dog to limp (but the left leg wasn't causing a problem). I did a surgery called a femoral head and neck excision arthroplasty, where the top of the thigh bone is cut off and the remaining space is left to fill with fibrous tissue. This leads to a non-painful joint, although the range of movement of the leg is not as good as before (still very good though) and the leg is very slightly shorter. Anyway, the surgery went very well.

As the dog came back after a week or two for a recheck, the right leg was bearing weight and moving well. I examined the dog on the consulting table and stretched both back legs behind the tail to test the movement and see if there was any noticeable comparative shortening of the leg. As I released the legs, the dog now wasn't weight bearing on the left leg (that didn't have surgery). This was incredibly embarassing. The owner was querying why and the nurse present started making some lame excuse about the dog being nervous!?! I told the owner that I suspected the left hip had now luxated (popped out) as it was also dysplastic.

The owner proceeded to blame me for being heavy handed etc and to reach a satisfactory solution, I had to operate for free on the left leg. Now when dogs come back in for similar rechecks, I've decided not to touch the other leg and warn the owner that the "good leg" may develop problems later.


Thursday, February 5, 2009

Welcome


Hello and welcome to my blog.

I have been meaning to write down my thoughts and experiences for some time but have been too lazy to actual get around to doing it. I have some memorable experiences which I hope you find as amusing as I do.

Well anyway, let me introduce myself. I am a qualified veterinarian. I now have the pleasure of only dealing with small animals.

I have worked with large animals before but got fed up by going to farms in the middle of the night and regularly getting splattered in sloppy faeces (and yes I have put my arm - and only my arm! - into the backside of a cow and in the middle of winter - quite a warm leather glove!). Also I no longer have to listen to nonsense about horses - pretending I have some idea about what on earth their owners are talking about (hands?? 14hh -isn't that a huge breast size?).

Anyway, most my days, I deal with dogs, cats and small furry animals. I see a few birds (both feathered and the human type) and the odd reptile (mostly tortoises and terrapins). I see a lot of amusing people who keep me entertained throughout the day.

To protect both myself and others, the characters mentioned will be given new identities. I suspect that I may have a lot of time to write over the next year - with the credit crunch, I suspect quite a few people may lose their job and can't afford to bring their pets to the vet.

So let me get the usual conversation out of the way:
Isn't the veterinary course 7 years? No normally 5 years (or 35 in dog years!)
Do you have to stick you arm up a cow's backside? Yes (answered already).
Isn't being a vet harder than being a doctor? Animals don't speak and we deal with more than one species - you decide.
Are you a vegetarian? Yes, not because I love animals but because I hate plants.
I always wanted to be a vet but didn't get the grades. Oh well, thanks for sharing that with me.
Why are vets so expensive? Veterinary course and drugs are expensive. There is generally a shortage of vets. The veterinary business isn't actually very profitable and the profession has a high rate of suicide.

Well, that's it for today. I look forward to updating the blog soon.