Everyone here knows that the five minutes before bed is the most dangerous time to be on call.
The other night was no different. I’d just got my 2-year-old down for the night (I may have taken a short nap too....) and was groggily headed to bed.
Suddenly I hear that gosh forsaken “Over the Horizon” ringtone. My favorite, wake up you’re on call, announcement.
I’m a let-the-call-go-to-voicemail sort of guy, so I simply turned back around and went to put my coveralls on. Dressed, I head to the truck and listen to the voicemail: a prolapse. The night keeps getting more interesting!
The voicemail said, “Doc, see if you can save her. If not, please execute a humane euthanasia.” Not a good omen for a prolapse, I think. They probably wouldn’t have said that if it was a small one...but no use fretting until I’m there.
Fast forward 30 minutes and I pull into the farm’s drive. Lucky for me they have some night help, and he points me in the direction of the emergency. Walking up to her I immediately see a massive prolapse. Not the largest I’ve ever seen, but in the top 10.
The complicating factor; she’s down in the scrape alley with milk fever.
Sometimes I miss the days of James Harriot where these things were in the back 40. Not so much for the level of medicine back then but more so for my knees. Grass, heck even mud, is way easier on them than the concrete scrape alley of the modern freestall barn.
As I start unpacking my stuff and preparing for what promises to be a “fun” knee-bruising night I hear, “Senor.” Behind me is the night manager. The one who led me to the cow.
He starts rattling off sentences in Spanish. Unfortunately for him, I chose German back in high school so I’m about as good as tits on a bull in this conversation.
Lucky for me, he quickly realized my shortcomings. After much pointing and gesturing he says, “Lift?” I was thinking he meant lift to move her to a sand pack that was about 5 feet away. Sure why not? At least my knees will be saved.
A minute or two later he returns with a skid steer and a hip lift. Confused, I asked, “Lift?” He said, “Lift.” Clearly, we had reached the extent of my communication skills. I decided to step back and see what he was going to do.
So, he attached the hip lift to the cow and lifted her butt up about 3 feet. Out of the cab of the skidsteer all I heard was ,"Push?” It was at this point that I realized what his idea was.
Rather than trying to push this uterus in down, on the concrete with a cow struggling to get out of the frog leg position, he had lifted her so I could replace the prolapse standing.
I stepped under the bucket and cleaned the prolapse. I then inverted it on her back and felt all the intestines -- intestines I would have had to work against if she was down -- fall right back into her belly.
Three minutes later the uterus was fully replaced.
Five minutes later her vulva was sutured, and we carefully guided her onto the sand pack.
It was the easiest prolapse I’ve ever done. All from an idea I couldn’t understand at the moment.
This got me thinking, just how many ideas do we discount every day because we can’t understand them at the moment?
How many times do we delve into a situation, determined to solve it, before we hear everyone’s ideas, no matter if we understand them or not?
This might not be a novel concept for everyone but it was a great reminder to slow down and listen.
All I know is that from here on out I’ll be asking if my down prolapses have a hip lift!
Other articles by Dr. Rooker:
Choose to be Confident In Your Competence
Crafting Meaningful Work in the Veterinary Workplace
