by Gillian Hick
Of course there were other vets in the area, but they too had to provide their own cover (although they all had more than one vet, and so could share the nights). Although some practices shared the rota, I was most certainly not in a position to be providing cover for other busier practices, where I would have to go out on large-animal calls so that effectively left me on my own providing twenty-four/seven cover.
Quite apart from the legalities of it all, with the state George was in, there was no way I could do anything other than admit him, as I watched him gasping for breath, tongue hanging out and eyes beginning to bulge with the sheer effort of drawing breath.
Anyway, George the Boxer was not remotely interested in veterinary standards as he slumbered noisily by my bed-side that night. Slug was probably more put out than any of us, as she had been relegated from her usual bed to the kitchen for the night. Her early years of being used for dog-fighting before I ‘kidnapped’ her, meant that she couldn’t be totally trusted with other dogs although she was now in her midteens and clearly at a stage in her life that she was preparing for her departure.
Before long, the mixture of intravenous steroid, an antihistamine and a mild sedative to relax him seemed to be working effectively for George. A snoring Boxer is one thing, but a Boxer with a combination of a more than usually restricted airway and a sedative is another thing altogether. Each time Jack woke to feed, which he did regularly that night, he was highly entertained by the sputtering and snorting at the other side of the bed and giggled loudly every time a particularly explosive snore erupted. At one stage, the snoring became so violent that I was concerned that I would have to fully anaesthetise and intubate George if he didn’t improve. This was causing me anxiety, as George had first come to me only a few weeks previously and his owner was concerned about a seizure he had had a few weeks earlier. Although he recovered uneventfully, when she heard of the new practice opening, she decided it was a good opportunity to get him checked. At the time, I had advised her that epilepsy was not uncommon in his breed and that if they became any more frequent we would do further investigation and perhaps consider medicating him.
Apart from now realising that it was almost four in the morning as I gazed bleary-eyed at the alarm clock, I really was not keen to anaesthetise him unless absolutely necessary. Thankfully, I remembered that one of my college friends, who was working in an emergency centre on the other side of the world, would be the ideal phone-a-friend as four in the morning in Ireland would equate with her normal working day.
She picked up the phone on the first ring and was thrilled to hear from me as we hadn’t spoken since Jack’s arrival.
She was not so thrilled when she heard why I was ringing her.
‘What are you thinking of? Have you not enough to be doing? Why didn’t you just tell them to …?’
Well, I won’t finish her most uncaring approach to a patient in distress.
Grudgingly, she consulted with their on-site anaesthetist, while I wondered how two people with the same degree could end up in two such drastically different jobs and practices. She came back with a few suggestions for medications, nothing that changed the way I was treating George, but it was nice to have the reassurance (even though she did end the conversation by telling me that talking to me was the best form of contraception she had ever come across!)
Within minutes of the call, George took a few extra-deep snorts, let off a few good blasts or air of the variety available in copious amounts and known only to owners of Boxers, and then miraculously seemed to settle. By early morning he was well enough to move back into the kennels, and seemed disappointed that I wasn’t in form for some play. The owners were delighted when I rang them to fill them in on (an edited version of) the night’s events.
They arrived to collect him some time later, still in their pyjamas, although I by now was well up and dressed, ably assisted by Molly and Fiona, who had a slight tussle over picking Jack’s outfit for the day. I was too exhausted to do up the bill, as I couldn’t get my head around thinking up a fair price for intensive night care, but they promised to call up the next day to settle up.
As the practice was still in its infancy, I only had to deal with a few phone calls until the evening clinic by which stage Donal was back home to mind the kids. Although the girls were in their usual high spirits, Jack slept more that day, clearly worn out from giggling at the snoring, farting Boxer during the night! We spent most of the day on the couch in relative peace, although I did get a chance to do up the bill for George’s owners in the afternoon.
As it turned I needn’t have bothered as they never did come up the next day to pay, nor the week after, nor at the end of the month when I sent another bill, nor the month after that again. After the third month, when my bill was returned with an ‘owner has moved – no forwarding address’ stamp from the local post office, I realised that anaesthetic regimes for toxic epileptic Boxers was not the only aspect to running a business that I had to get to grips with!
Chapter 3
The Dog Lady
I don’t know why, but I clearly remember the first phone call I ever received from Eve Wilson. Perhaps it was the fact that she had one of those very soft, gentle voices that instantly invited you to slow down and listen. She was enquiring about getting her female spaniel neutered as she was in heat and although Eve had bred from her in the past, she wasn’t planning on it again. I agreed that neutering would be the best option, but advised that it would be best to wait until she was out of heat.
Eve agreed immediately, saying, ‘I’ll be guided by whatever you think is best.’
I took her details and told her I would keep a note on her file and contact her in three months’ time as this would be the safest time for Juno the spaniel.
She seemed surprisingly grateful, in a quiet way.
I didn’t think any more of it until the following week when she rang again, this time to make an appointment for another dog.
By now, I had become accustomed to clients filling me in with their entire schedule for the week as they tried to fit in an appointment, usually requiring me to reorganise mine. This was never the case with Eve, and she always graciously accepted the first appointment I offered her, so later that evening, I became acquainted with Freddie, a scruffy terrier type.
Often when you form an opinion of someone in your mind, when you meet them they don’t look anything like you imagined. In Eve’s case, it was as though I had actually met her before. Although there were a few new clients that evening, as soon as Eve stepped out of the old clapped-out Ford Cortina, it was as though I recognised her or had known her for years. She was exactly as I had pictured her – a petite woman, almost frail-looking and yet with an inner strength. Her hair was silvery-grey and shoulder length, carelessly tied up in a simple rubber band. Her eyes were grey-blue, and when she reached out to shake my hand we held each other’s gaze and for a moment I again felt as though we had previously met.
Freddie had always had an ongoing itchy tummy, but the rash had flared up in recent days. His skin was warm to the touch and his hind-limb reflexively began to scratch as I ran my hands gently along his body. As I questioned Eve about his history she listened attentively and filled me in on his diet, his sleeping area, his anti-parasite treatment and other matters, which would give me some clues as to his recent flare-up. I explained to Eve that chronic skin cases could be very difficult to resolve completely, but that I was hopeful that by changing him from his current straw bedding and applying some mild steroid cream, it should settle down.
‘Do you think it was the straw that set him off?’ she questioned anxiously. ‘He’s one of my outdoor dogs, and the neighbouring farmer offered me a few broken bales last week. It’s such a pity; they looked so nice and snug on the fresh bed,’ she trailed off as much to herself as to me.
‘Do you have many other dogs?’ I asked her, assuming as she had mentioned that Freddie was an outdoor dog, that she had indoor dogs too.
In a
n instant, it was as though I had erected a steel barrier between us. The gentle, open demeanour suddenly disappeared and Eve quickly offered to settle her account out of a small plastic bag consisting of a few well-folded notes in addition to a mix of coins. Then she was gone.
The queue of cars around the back of the house left me no time to wonder how I had offended her, but it was not long before I saw her again. This time with a small black dog.
Mrs Black, as she was aptly called, was a very pretty, dainty spaniel type, whose ears were so long that the hair actually touched the ground as she walked. However, unlike Freddie who spent the entire duration of his consultation enthusiastically trying to lick me and climb up into my arms, Mrs Black seemed terrified. She clung frantically to Eve when she lifted her to put her on the table, and as soon as I laid my hands on her, her whole body began to quiver.
Although Eve showed none of the resistance from our previous conversation, her face tightened up into a frown as she explained that Mrs Black had had a bad experience in another veterinary practice. Although I didn’t encourage her to expand on it, I did suddenly realise that I had never even asked her who her previous vet had been. As a policy, I would never see another vet’s patient without first asking the vet’s permission and getting an-up-to-date history for the animal. This is both as a professional courtesy to my colleagues and also in the best interest of my patient. Clearly, Eve had at least three dogs that I knew of, so she must have been to another vet before now.
‘I’ll be coming to you from now on,’ she told me when I questioned her. ‘None of them are being treated for anything, so you need have no worries.’
The discussion was clearly closed.
Although I wasn’t entirely happy with the situation, I was reluctant to push it as I didn’t want to encourage a discussion on why she was unhappy with her previous vet. Although under normal circumstances I would have been suspicious, as often clients want to change vets claiming to have been badly treated when they actually owe a lot of money to a previous vet. In Eve’s case, although she clearly was not flush with money, there was something about her that I warmed to. I could sense that she was an innately private person, and yet I completely trusted her.
Examining Mrs Black was not easy as she was so tense. As I had never met her before, I didn’t know if the tension was just from fear or a part of her medical condition. I took my time with her, encouraging her to relax. It appeared that not only had she severe neck pain, but all her back muscles were in spasm too. Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t able to carry out any form of useful neurological exam as she clung to Eve for the entire duration of the consultation. When, at my request, Eve placed her gently on the floor, Mrs Black refused to move and stood in under the consulting table with her neck bent down so far that her nose was almost touching the floor.
‘Let me take her this time,’ I said. I gently picked my reluctant patient up and, although she bared her teeth at me, she never budged otherwise.
‘It’s most likely some sort of muscle spasm, but I can’t rule out other neurological or spinal causes as she is so nervous,’ I told Eve as I gently placed Mrs Black back in her arms.
‘Yes, I thought it could be a disc, or I was even afraid she might have broken a bone in her neck. I don’t see how she could have done it, because she sleeps in my bed with me and she just woke up like this.’
It’s always difficult in veterinary trying to work out what is the best option for both patient and client. While I wasn’t really happy with the idea of sending Mrs Black home with anti-inflammatories and instructions for cage rest, I didn’t feel from my dealings with Eve so far that sending her to the veterinary referral hospital was going to be an option.
‘Why don’t I give her a strong painkiller now to make her comfortable, and then I’ll give you some anti-inflammatories for her for the next few days. I’m sure that she’ll be happier going home with you than if I kept her in, but keep her totally confined and then then let me know how she’s doing in the morning,’ I suggested.
‘Oh, thank God,’ replied Eve, ‘I thought you were going to say that she would need an x-ray, and I really don’t have the money for that at the moment.’
Realistically, I knew that if Mrs Black didn’t respond to conservative treatment, she would need much more than just a simple radiograph, but I decided against stressing Eve any further at that moment.
‘Let’s just see how she gets on tonight. Ring me in the morning or at any stage if she gets any worse,’ I replied, opening the door for her to take the still-quivering Mrs Black back to the car.
Eve did ring early the next morning to say that Mrs Black was significantly improved.
‘She’s eating now, and when I carried her out to the toilet she was moving more comfortably.’
Over the next few days Eve rang me daily to update me on the slow but positive progress of Mrs Black. I was impressed by her attention to detail and her diligence in carrying out my instructions exactly as prescribed, as Eve, to me, looked like someone who could do with looking after herself. On the few occasions we had met, despite her strong personality, she seemed terribly frail. I wondered vaguely about her history as she had casually mentioned on one occasion that she lived alone. She was clearly smart and well educated, but other than that, I knew nothing about her.
‘Maybe I should bring her up to you to let you check her,’ she suggested at the next phone call.
‘If you can, that would be great,’ I replied, eager to check up on the little dog. I had been reluctant to suggest it as Eve lived quite some distance away and I was conscious of not putting her under pressure. I had found that in the short time I had known her, I looked forward to her calm and gentle personality and welcomed our brief interludes in the madness of daily life.
It was almost dark that evening by the time the clinic started. I had to wait until the end to see Mrs Black, as Eve insisted on letting everyone else go before her. I couldn’t help wondering if she didn’t have much to go home to. Mrs Black had improved dramatically and I was able to manipulate her neck through a full range of motion, although she quivered dramatically throughout. Once I was happy with her, I gently placed the little spaniel back down on the floor, thinking she would feel less anxious as we discussed her aftercare in terms of gradually reintroducing her exercise.
‘Let me just go out to the car and get her lead,’ said Eve, opening the consulting room door. In a flash, Mrs Black, who had been huddled nervously under the table, shot out and disappeared into the darkness. Although upset by the little dog’s apparent terror, I was not overly concerned for her safety as I knew that the small area around the house was fully fenced. It still took us some time to catch Mrs Black – we pursued the little black shadow in circles around the house before she finally came to rest under a bush. I backed off, allowing Eve to gently pull her out to safety. With Mrs Black securely back in the car, Eve seemed almost to evaporate.
Although she was one of those seemingly ageless people, as she leaned over the surgery table, her previously clear skin appeared drawn and her lips had a slight blueish tinge. Her breathing, I noticed with alarm, had become audibly laboured. Quickly pulling a chair from the next room, I sat her down.
‘My handbag,’ she gasped, pointing feebly to her bag, which was lying in the corner.
I placed the bag in her lap and watched as she fumbled in it before pulling out two inhalers. I supported her as she haltingly drew from them and sat quietly by her side, her hand gently resting in mine. Over the next few minutes she gradually relaxed and her colour returned to near normal, although she was still pale. My head was screaming at me to call an ambulance, but I felt that this would have upset Eve even more.
‘Please let me drive you home, Eve,’ I asked, knowing that Donal was in for the evening with the kids. As I expected, she adamantly refused, and only after much persuasion agreed to have a cup of tea before she left. Under no circumstance could I cajole her into the kitchen, so we sat side by side in the
consulting room sipping at the hot sugary tea, although she wouldn’t so much as look at the plate of biscuits. I felt greedy as I devoured a handful, not having eating since much earlier that day.
As she recovered, Eve began haltingly to tell me just a little about herself; how her mother used to breed show dogs and she had grown up with them. She had never left home, and continued living there after her parents had died.
‘I gave up breeding once my mother died,’ she told me, a little sadly, I felt. ‘It wasn’t so easy to get really good homes for the dogs and I just hated letting them go. Then people started to bring me dogs that others couldn’t look after. It can be a little tight sometimes with so many to feed.’
I sat quietly and listened to her story being very careful not to question her as I was aware of her strong sense of privacy.
When the tea was finished, Eve seemed to come fully back to herself, but as she left she took my hand and thanked me. ‘I’m so sorry to have troubled you,’ she said, ‘but thank you so much for listening to the rambling of an old lady.’
‘It’s lovely to have a chat,’ I assured her. ‘And if there is ever anything I can do to help, please do just ask. Or,’ I added, ‘if you ever want me to call out to you if you’re not feeling well, it’s no bother at all.’
Eve insisted on paying her bill, and then she was off, Mrs Black sitting patiently on the passenger seat beside her.
I rang Eve the next morning ostensibly to check on Mrs Black, but really to reassure myself that Eve had got home safely. She sounded in good spirits so when I didn’t hear from her over the next few weeks I assumed that all was well with both herself and Mrs Black.
It was late one evening when I got a phone call from a lady who told me that we had met briefly in the clinic once with her mother’s elderly cat.