After five minutes of repositioning the needle and expressing air, the tension in the bowel diminished dramatically. Finally, I grasped the mass and rotated it in a counterclockwise direction.
"See that?" I gloated, as the bowel returned to its normal position. "See that swollen area where it was twisted off?" I felt a tingle run up my spine as the colour of the bowel lightened and took on a pinkish hue. Still holding the loops up out of the abdomen, I poked the tissue with a needle. Blood slowly leaked from the puncture site.
"That's great news!" I was smiling from ear to ear and pointing to the pool that was accumulating. "It definitely looks like the gut's still alive. As long as we treat her shock, she'll have a fighting chance."
Dick opened some suture material for me, and I began the chore of closing her body wall. I placed each suture first, then pushed the intestines back into her tummy before tightening the stitch.
"Are you sure you're going to get all that back into her?"
"It makes you wonder, doesn't it? I'm afraid these are parts she can't do without."
"Now I know where to bring my mending," Dick joked, as I placed the last of the sutures in the bottom of the incision. "You're one hell of a tailor!"
Although the heifer looked as if she might come around, she was a long way from being off the critical list. Her grunt had become decidedly less pronounced, but her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her eyes were still sunken.
We bedded down the corner of the cutting-room floor with straw and made a corral of the table and some well-placed boxes.
"Keep the fluids running for the rest of the day, and I'll leave you another bag for tonight. I've given her antibiotics as a preventive, and I'll bring you more tomorrow."
I drove from the Doumas' yard pondering the emotional fluctuations that had occurred throughout the day. It was amazing how a morning that looked so mundane could become a rollercoaster ride replete with awesome peaks and gut-wrenching hollows. I could still feel the effects of some of the highs, and my gut was feeling woozy from the lows. I was going to discover over the years to come just how often that would be the way with veterinary practice.
The remainder of the day was jam-packed, what with catching up on late appointments and looking after calls relayed to me from one farmer to the next.
A storm blew in during the late afternoon, enveloping the valley in dark, low-hung clouds. After an initial heavy downpour, the rain continued in the form of a steady drizzle.
It was after ten when I pulled my car into Grampa's yard and shut off the engine. I clicked out the lights, leaned my head back, and took a deep breath. It was strangely comforting to sit there all alone and listen to the sound of the rain falling gently on the car roof. I stared into the darkness, thinking of nothing more intense than when to take the next breath. At last, a shiver set me in search of the flashlight and motivated me to move.
The house was dark and uninviting. I shone the light into the box containing my meagre rations of food and found nothing remotely interesting. I fished a lonely pickle from a jar and munched on it absently. Popping the last bite into my mouth, I collapsed on the bed and pulled the sleeping bag over me.
I closed my eyes and the scenes of the day flicked before me like slides flashing on a screen. I watched as I cut into the poor dejected calf, saw the needle enter the gut, heard the gas rush from the end of the needle. I had just straightened the torsion and was ready to get on with the suturing when it struck me. The instruments were still out in the car—just as dirty and bloody as when I put them there in the morning!
Damn, I sure didn't feel like washing instruments and firing up the Coleman stove. Reluctantly, I abandoned the warmth of my bed to retrieve the surgery box. The night was without the slightest trace of a breeze. The only sound was the faint patter of the rain as it settled on the grass and the trees around me. I paused for a moment to drink in the silence—to just stand there alone, to be still and feel the rain settle gently upon my face.
I loved this place, I loved the panoramic view of the valley, I loved the peace and tranquillity of the quiet nights, but I knew it couldn't work. Fall was on its way, and inexorably, winter. The nip in the air was a warning of what was to come. This house would be impossible for me soon. I was hardly ever here, and the thought of coming home to a cold, lonely house was more than I could bear. As much as I hated to think about it, I was going to have to find somewhere else, somewhere closer to town.
I had lowered the instruments into the pressure cooker when a vision of the heifer flashed through my mind. I thought about giving Dick a call to see how he was making out, but glanced at my watch and thought better of it. It was late and dairymen tended not to be coherent at that time of night.
The next morning, things seemed to be unfolding nicely. There were a few calls before I left home, but nothing had a ring of urgency about it. My time would be dedicated to doing the herd health at the Doumas that never got started yesterday.
From the time I got out of bed, my thoughts revolved around the pathetic little creature that we had done surgery on the day before. One minute, I pictured her tearing across the pasture as if nothing had ever been wrong. The next, I jerked myself back to reality and saw her lying there bloated, with her feet in the air. The closer I got to the Douma farm, the more I steeled myself for the moment I would find out that she hadn't made it. There was something about putting your best effort forth and failing that didn't seem fair.
I parked the car in front of the meat shop and took a quick look around. There was no sign of anyone about. Inside, the debris from the surgery had been cleared away, but the corner where we had bedded the calf was still covered with straw. The boxes that had formed the barrier were scattered throughout the room, and a pool of congealed blood lay on the floor.
That must have been where she died, I mused. The way the boxes had been flung about, Dick must have had a real temper tantrum when he found her dead. I didn't see his truck anywhere about and supposed he had made a quick run to the dump with the carcass.
I was downcast as I wandered to the barn. I never was a good sport about losing, and I felt even worse when a creature's life was at stake. I passed through the milkhouse into the barn to see if either Alex or Dick was about. A metallic screeching and clattering greeted me as the cows turned their heads and stanchions to see who had invaded their domain.
"Hello! Anybody here?"
No one answered. I wandered into the calf barn on the off chance that Dick had moved the heifer over but found her pen empty. I was on my way back to the barn when I heard him call.
"Hello! Are you in here?"
I met him at the corner. He was obviously perplexed; his face was fixed in a scowl.
"We didn't get our shipment of brewer's mash yesterday and the cows have really gone into a tailspin," he grumped. "They dropped almost five hundred pounds this pickup."
I was anxious to get the uncomfortable conversation about the heifer over with. Even though I couldn't think of what else I might have done to save her, I still felt responsible for her death. Maybe if I had brought my instruments with me, that hour would have made the difference.
"So, do you want to have a look at the heifer?" Dick asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Yeah, sure." I trailed along in silence, wishing that things could have turned out differently. It would probably be best to get the postmortem over with before we started with herd health.
We rounded the corner of the barn, and there she was—not lying dead as I expected, but picking at green grass along the side of the building! As we approached, she turned to face us and took a step in our direction. She looked a bit rough, what with her bald right side and her sunken flanks, but the improvements overnight were simply amazing.
Her eyes told the story. Where yesterday they had been sunken, today the lids and eyes were a perfect fit. Yesterday they had been filled with pain; today they were bright and attentive.
"Boy, I'm sure glad that ordeal's over," Dic
k muttered. "Yesterday, when I changed the fluids around five, she was starting to move her back legs a bit and was holding up her head. Her guts must have been really moving; I could hear them rumbling and she had already had a couple big dumps. I was over here about ten last night and she was lying there as quiet as could be.
"Came out this morning at quarter to five and there she was out in the middle of the room! She'd knocked the boxes all over hell's half acre. I just cut all the tubes off her neck and stuffed her out here where there's still some green grass."
I stared at the heifer as she resumed her grazing. She was really alive! The way she was looking right now, I didn't doubt that she would make an uneventful recovery. Who would have dared to predict?
During my years of practice, I continually reminded myself that there were many different ways of receiving payment for the services I rendered. I've long since forgotten what I charged to do the surgery on that calf, but there's no way I'll ever forget the feeling of satisfaction that gripped me as we got on with the morning's work.
I was on my way to the car when Evelyn Hurford came running from the house. "A lady's on the phone about a sick cat. I'm not sure how she knew you were here, but she wants to talk to you. She sounds rather anxious."
"Thanks, Ev. I'll take it."
The voice on the phone was rich and lyrical. As Elspeth McSeveney ran on in her Scottish brogue, I focused intently to keep from losing her. "Dr. Perrin, I was talking to Ruth Veitch on the street during my lunch break. She told me you'd been to her place for supper last night, and that you were going to be at Hurfords this morning."
"I see. Yes." It was amazing how people could track me down. "Mrs. Hurford was mentioning you had a sick cat."
"Yes...It's our little Tikkie. The poor wee thing has wasted away before our eyes; we can't seem to do a thing about it."
"So this has been going on for some time, Mrs. McSeveney?"
"It's been months, it has. I've had her checked out a number of times, but we just can't find out what's wrong with her."
"What exactly are her symptoms? Has she had vomiting or diarrhea?"
"Her stools have been a bit off from time to time, but it's never anything consistent. She hasn't had a movement in days now, but that's not surprising. She hasn't eaten either—she's so weak, she can hardly get around."
"I can stop over right now, if you'd like me to look at her."
I took directions to the McSeveney residence and headed for Erickson, the orchard community east of Creston. I arrived at the ferry ramp moments after it had departed—it was a hundred feet out. I watched the cables slice through the water as it pulled itself towards the north shore of the river. A car and a pickup were on board; a grain truck waited on the opposite side.
I craned my neck to make out the operator. I was sure it was the same guy who had ignored me last week. I felt foolish using the ferry when he was operating. I still wanted to wring his neck for stranding me and, although he'd given no indication he had witnessed my temper tantrum, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was chuckling behind my back.
The group America finished the song "A Horse With No Name," and Black Sabbath began pounding out the chords of some godawful heavy metal. I shut off the ignition and welcomed the ensuing silence. The sunlight shimmered on the river. An osprey swooped to the surface. I saw a flash as the bird hit the water, then watched in appreciation as it flapped lazily to a tree on the riverbank, a fish dangling from its talons.
The cable reared once again. Water sprayed from the box end of the ferry and ripples appeared on either side. It was on its way back.
Like some clumsy river animal, it wallowed in the water until finally bumping against the landing. The ramp of the old scow dropped, and the operator strolled to the front deck to lower the forward chain. The grain truck lurched ahead and ground its way slowly up the ramp; the ferry buoyed in relief. Bob Rogers, who operated the farm next to the ferry landing, smiled broadly and waved out the truck window.
I waved in return and drove down the ramp onto the deck. The operator nodded when I passed him; the chain rattled as he lifted it and fixed it in place. I watched in the rear view mirror as he strolled to the cabin. Was that a smirk on his face?
I drove up the steep ramp and was soon meandering through fields of newly growing barley. Driving through Creston, I headed east towards Cranbrook. Within minutes I approached a sharp, checkerboard corner and turned onto Haskin's West. That should be the McSeveneys—the house with the brown-stained wood siding. Elspeth said they lived in the Carmichaels' basement suite. It had to be the place—Groot's Farm was right across the road.
A pleasant-looking woman in her early thirties opened the door. She had long brown hair pulled back from her face and expressive blue eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses.
"My, aren't you the tall one?" I loved her musical Scottish lilt and was casually wondering how my accent sounded to her. "I thought my husband, Jim, was a big man; he's almost six foot six." She extended her hand for a firm shake. "I'm Elspeth McSeveney."
"Dave Perrin." I rested my arm on the top of the refrigerator and pulled off my shoes. Elspeth chuckled to see her fridge used as a leaning post.
"How tall are you, anyway?"
"I'm six eleven."
A healthy-looking sealpoint Siamese circled my legs and vied for attention. She rubbed against me and stared up at me with intense blue eyes that oscillated from side to side in Siamese fashion.
"That's Sheba. She came over with us from Scotland. We bought her in Dunfermline."
"Really? I've never met a Scottish Siamese before. Did you fly her over?"
"Oh no, she came with us on the cruise liner, Empress of Canada. She was trained to the leash, so we took her for walks on deck. We got meat from the butcher on board; she ate better than we did."
"Aren't you the spoiled one!" I picked her up. She purred vehemently and rubbed her head against my hand.
"She pretty much runs the household. We got Tikkie from Olga Edwards to keep Sheba company. It was so funny to watch that wee little kitten try to gain her affection. She worked at it for weeks, she did. She tore after Sheba to get her attention. Sheba was embarrassed at first, but she finally gave in, and they became the best of friends. Tikkie was the first kitten we ever got for nothing. The others all cost us a bundle."
Turning towards the kennel in the corner of the kitchen, her expression was suddenly sad. "We've all but given up hope for poor little Tikkie." I followed Elspeth across the room to find a dejectedlooking specimen lying at my feet. I knelt and wrestled with the catch that held the kennel door fixed.
"I keep hoping she'll just give up and die in her sleep. You know, with all the pets I've had, I've never had one that died on its own. I've always had to have them put to sleep... It's just so hard." She removed her glasses to wipe away the tears that welled in her eyes.
Tikkie was indeed in a terrible state. Her light-coloured hair was oily and lifeless. Her muscle had wasted and the bones of her face, hips, and spine protruded. I lifted her gently from the kennel and set her next to Elspeth on the kitchen counter. Her eyes opened. Bright and blue, they flicked haphazardly as she tried to focus.
She meowed pitifully and Elspeth looked away. Tears trickled freely down her cheeks.
"There's a girl. Good Tikkie," I crooned.
"She was such an active little thing." Elspeth ran her hands lovingly over Tikkie's bony body. "She was always a bit on the small size, but she was full of life and mischief. I had a heck of a time keeping her from climbing my curtains. She was a tremendous hunter even as a kitten, constantly dragging in mice and birds."
"Her decline has been very gradual then?"
"She was always so playful before. At first I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong. She just didn't look right! I took her in for a checkup, and he couldn't find anything wrong with her. He was sure she had worms, but we dewormed her and it didn't make any difference."
I inserted a thermometer into her rec
tum and Tikkie squirmed. I palpated her body in search of unusual lumps and bumps but was unable to find anything of interest. Her lips and gums were pale.
Grasping the skin at the scruff of her neck, I pulled it into a tent. It
remained there as if the skin were bent.
"She's terribly dehydrated."
"I've tried to force fluids into her, but she won't take a thing. She looks at me as if to say, Just put me out of my misery, mom. They seem to know, don't they?"
I removed the thermometer and rotated it in the light to read it—37 degrees Celsius! A degree and a half below normal.
"You mentioned having her examined, Elspeth. Did she ever have blood work done? She looks anemic to me."
"No, never blood work. I'm a lab tech myself, and I would have had her put to sleep some time ago if I'd known why she was sick. It really bothers me to give up when I don't know what's wrong."
"I don't have to tell you how rough she is, Elspeth. She's very dehydrated and anemic. Let's draw blood and see if we can figure out what's going on. If there are signs of regeneration of red cells, she may have a chance. If there's no evidence that she's trying to rally and kick out early red cells, then maybe it would be best to put her to sleep."
"I'd like that. A part of me wants to just put an end to her misery. Another part keeps telling me there's hope—that there's something we've missed!"
I soaked a gauze with alcohol and had Elspeth support Tikkie in an upright position so I could rub down her foreleg and raise a vein. I drove the needle through the skin and the syringe slowly filled with watery, pink fluid. It was hard to even think of it as blood.
"Oh my!" Elspeth watched in horror as the sample trickled from the syringe into the lavender-topped tube that would keep the blood from clotting.
"I'll run right back to West Creston and do a complete blood count on her. I don't have to tell you that something's very much amiss with this sample."
Elspeth still focused on the tube that rotated in my fingertips. Picking up Tikkie, she cuddled her to her breast and rocked back and forth. Tikkie lay in her arms, lifeless except for the slow rise fall of her chest.
Don't Turn Your Back in the Barn (Adventures of a Country Vet) Page 5