staging.vettimes.com

Category: Students

Finding the words
I’m a bit of a grammar Nazi, so getting involved in editing has been a lot of fun.

I enjoy writing about my experiences, but I also enjoy reading about others. I’m also a bit (or a lot) of a grammar Nazi, so getting involved in editing over the past couple of years at university has been a lot of fun.

I started by subediting the University of Glasgow’s student newspaper and proofreading emails/letters for fellow students on the organising committee for a charity event, before taking on the role of editor for the student vet magazine (JAVS), which goes out to all UK veterinary schools.

This is something I love doing, but it does have its downsides – and it sometimes feels like trying to draw blood from a stone. The past few editions of JAVS have seen a serious deficiency of contributors, but each one has been saved by my persistent chasing of articles, rallying people I know have an interesting story to tell, and reassuring those who’ve been asked to write but lack confidence in their ability.

Now this begs the question: why do veterinary students not want to write?
- Are they too busy and see it as pointless extra work that won’t be recognised or count towards their degree?
- Are they worried about not producing an item good enough to publish?
- Do they lack confidence in their linguistic abilities?
While the vet degree is insanely busy and students will count every precious moment of free time they have, there are considerable advantages to having a piece of writing published – be that in print or on the internet.

Getting your name out there

“Writing for a student publication is a great start in order to get into the swing of things without strict word counts or other constraints.”

It’s surprising how far an article or blog post can reach. People with seemingly nothing to do with the veterinary profession or, alternatively, those higher up in the profession may see them.

Social media provides a particularly excellent platform for getting your work out there – many of the student written articles published on the AVS (Association of Veterinary Students) Facebook page have received “likes” or comments from BVA and RCVS presidents.

For those looking to publish in the future, whether through research or journalism, writing for a student publication is a great start in order to get into the swing of things without strict word counts or other constraints.

Even if you have no interest in writing as part of your career, having your name on an article can have other advantages. Who knows, maybe in a few years your future employer may have been intrigued by something you’d had published – which could make the difference between being asked to interview or not.

Spread the word

Sharing ideas with other students allows writers the opportunity to pass on information that could benefit other parties as well. For example, if someone undertakes EMS with a charity he or she feels is a particularly worthwhile cause and needs extra help, writing an article to raise awareness could give the organisation a huge boost. It will also make fellow students aware so they could go and have the same great experience as others before them.

Even sharing hints and tips for other things vet related might help other students avoid common mistakes or guide them more smoothly through the maze of the veterinary degree.

Don’t be scared

“Don’t be scared. Bite the bullet. Put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and just go for it,” says Jordan.

It has been suggested many veterinary students don’t want to write because they don’t think they have anything interesting to say, or worry their finished piece won’t be good enough for publication – and I appreciate writing doesn’t come naturally to everyone, but that’s where I come in.

I can’t magic up the entire content for a whole magazine, but if students give me some ideas to work with – regardless of how scrambled they may be – they can be edited into fully formed articles.

It may be that self confidence is the issue, but don’t worry, everyone has to start somewhere. Your first attempt wont necessarily be the next Harry Potter phenomenon, but I guarantee that most veterinary students do have interesting experiences or ideas to talk about – so don’t be scared. Bite the bullet. Put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and just go for it.

Getting published can open a lot of doors you didn’t even know were there, so I would encourage every veterinary student to try to get their names out there. After all, the veterinary world is smaller than you think, and you never know who might be reading.
October 30, 2015
The wrong end of the telephone

Jordan and Pepsi in happier times.

A couple of weeks ago, I received the phone call I’ve been dreading since moving away to university.

My horse had had an accident in the field, hurt her leg, and the vet was on the way. That’s all the information I received until the next call, with the vet on the other end.

“Communication within the tarsal joint… leg swinging… don’t think the long bone is actually fractured but significant damage to tendons at the back… rapid respiratory rate.”

As soon as I knew which way the conversation was going, I barely heard the rest.

My girl, who I’d had for 10 years. My girl, who’d been passed from pillar to post before we gave her the stable long-term home she’d never had. My girl, who had taught me to ride by being an infuriatingly awkward cow at the best of times.

My girl, who, when in the mood, was unbeatable and with whom I achieved a national title. My girl, who was the only one I trusted not to hurt me after my four-week stint in hospital when another horse landed on me. My 21-year-old girl, who’d been steadily getting stiffer from arthritis over the last few months. My girl, who, when I last rode about a week before this incident, was 10 times better than she’d been in a long time.

“My girl, who, when in the mood, was unbeatable and with whom I achieved a national title.”

My girl was about to be shot…

All the vet language stopped making sense, the clinician rationale went out the window. I just needed to know one thing, vet to vet student: is this fair? Could it wait five hours for me to tear down the M6 to say a final goodbye or would even that be an unnecessary amount of suffering?

I think I already knew the answer.

I felt utterly helpless and beyond reason for the following days, but as the shock wore off I was able to consider things retrospectively.

Having spoken to the family that were with her at the time, I’ve gathered a bit more information and been able to convince myself it was the right and only decision.

RIP Pepsi.

I’ve seen many animals have to be euthanised, for varying reasons. Some cases were more upsetting than others, but, for the most part, I’ve been able to detach myself from it – always telling myself it was for the best, in the animals’ interest for welfare reasons, and that there were no alternatives.

They say clients will only take in a small proportion of bad news. Now I know what that means. All the vet talk just went straight over my head, and the only thing I really got was that there was only one way it was going. This has outlined the importance of clear and concise communication when delivering bad news to my own clients in the future.

In communication skills classes, we’re told to encourage owners to bring someone with them who can write down key points and ensure they understand before proceeding. Now I appreciate the value of this so much more, having been the receiver instead of the bearer of bad news.

While the pain is still raw, I think I can take something from this to help me be more empathetic and ensure I communicate effectively in the future.

You can steal all the ham sandwiches you want now, Pepsi.

October 15, 2015
Flank approach to the bitch spay
An experienced vet could complete the entire procedure easily within 10 minutes. We “tentatively ambled” through our surgeries in 20.

Having finally settled in one place in Jaipur, India, my friend and I were able to relax a little, safe in the knowledge we had two weeks of neutering for population control ahead of us.

Being in an unfamiliar environment, and with our patients mainly being strays, we were prepared for very different methods of anaesthesia, variations on drugs we’re used to at home, and potentially questionable sterility. Even so, when the vet, stood with his scalpel at the ready, said “oh yes, we use the right flank method” as if it were the norm, we were a little surprised.

At home, we’re so used to seeing flank cat spays and midline bitch spays, my gut reaction was “is that even anatomically possible?”. As it turns out, it is.

The method

A small incision (<2cm) is made on the right flank, first through the skin and then each of the 3 underlying muscles (transverse abdominis, external abdominal oblique and internal abdominal oblique). A spay hook is then used to exteriorise the right uterine horn.

Once identified, the surgeon follows the horn to the ovary and applies tension caudally to break the suspensory ligament. A ligature (note single) is placed around the blood vessel and the ovary cut from it using the three clamp method in the same way as spays in the UK. The surgeon then follows the uterus to the cervix and along the left horn to the left ovary, where the procedure is repeated. A ligature is placed just above the cervix (again using the triple clamp method) and the uterus removed.

Closing the incision comprises placing a horizontal mattress suture in each of the muscle layers, a cruciate suture in the subcutaneous fascia, and intradermal sutures in the skin.

The positives

While the very idea of flank spays in the bitch just seemed alien, this method seems to be successful and works well in a charity environment in a country where certain resources are unavailable.

The reasons for choosing this method include easier wound checking, a shorter wound healing time (meaning the dogs can be re-released sooner) and less tension at the incision site, decreasing the risk of wound breakdown – essential for animals that, once released, are unlikely to be seen again.

Despite her initial surprise at the method used, Jordan admits the flank approach is the best compromise, considering the resources available.

The surgeons at the charity have found, over the years, the single horizontal mattress suture seems to be the least aggravating to the body wall muscles, and intradermals are the closure of choice in any stray or vicious animal that would be difficult to get near to remove sutures.

Another key advantage to the flank approach is speed; important for two reasons:
- The sheer number of stray dogs to neuter to reach an adequate level of population control means faster surgery is required to reach the target numbers.
- The surgical time under IV anaesthesia should be kept to a minimum to avoid prolonged or rocky recoveries and minimise side effects.
The experienced vet could complete the entire procedure easily within 10 minutes (in a normal young bitch, opposed to a pregnant or in season girl), and we, tentatively ambling through our surgeries, could complete within 20.

The negatives

Disadvantages to this method include more potential bleeding due to incising through the three muscle layers, a possibility of more postoperative pain and increased difficulty in extending the incision if there are complications. The most important, however, is that recovery of a dropped or bleeding ovarian stump is extremely difficult (or near impossible).

The anaesthesia protocol used is premed: xylazine, induction/maintenence; IV ketamine and IM meloxicam as pain relief. Hence, the speed of the flank approach will also minimise the number of top ups needed and reduce the anaesthetic hangover comparing to a technique (such as midline) that is more time consuming.

Compromise

The method seems to be the best compromise, considering the resources available. I think the overruling disadvantage is that, if you were concerned about a slipped ligature, the ovarian and uterine stumps would be virtually impossible to find again via the original incision.

However, that said, the only postoperative death we saw during our time on postmortem had all ligatures intact.

It was eye-opening to see an entirely different approach to a bitch spay, and while it may not be the same as the routine at home, I still felt that we gained a lot of surgical experience and developed transferable skills.
September 30, 2015
Indian adventure taught me to embrace the madness

One of the many non-academic challenges of becoming a vet is learning to cope with things not going to plan – to expect, or at least accept, the unexpected.

“We had planned to arrive in Agra to see the Taj Mahal on the one day a week it was closed…”

It may seem cliché to say travelling opens your eyes to different ways of life and changes you as a person, but the truth is it does prepare you for when the s*** hits the fan.

My friend and I had arrived in India with some trepidation; both of us had had busy summers and so very little time to consider what lay ahead.

We spent two days seeing some sights and travelling to our final destination, which was a feat in itself. India is just absolute mayhem.

Going to Goa

We had already circled Mumbai with a taxi driver who had no idea where he was going, returned to the hostel in the nick of time to grab our luggage for an onwards flight, only to be dropped off at the wrong airport and realise we had got our flight time wrong (though, thankfully, in our favour), before settling into our apartment in Goa, ready to start our EMS placement.

Having struggled to get in touch with the hosting charity, it finally arranged for a driver to pick us up on our first day. Therefore, on arrival at the shelter the final thing we expected was to be sat down by the board members of the charity, questioned and told they had no placement for us; we were subject to some miscommunication, goodbye.

Change of plans

Startled, with panic rising, we were shipped off to another charity 30km away to see whether they could offer us an alternative (which, after hours of discussion, they couldn’t).

After two days of frantic emailing and frustrating phone calls (with both parties struggling to understand accents) we found a saviour and abruptly departed Goa to fly to Delhi to squeeze in a few more sights before starting over.

This was also not without its challenges – we ended up directing two rickshaw drivers using maps on a phone, as they had both agreed to take us but, in reality, had no idea where our destinations were.

We battled the infamous Indian sleeper trains and had planned to arrive in Agra to see the Taj Mahal on the one day a week it was closed (again, calling for a swift diversion of plans). We had also been scammed on flights and made a total hash of accommodation bookings, having had to make so many last minute changes.

EMS saviours

“We battled the infamous Indian sleeper trains…”

Almost at the end of our tethers, we finally arrived in Jaipur to start our quickly organised placement at the charity Help In Suffering, which had completely saved our skins in terms of finding a suitable EMS placement that would count towards our degrees.

When it seemed like nothing else could possibly go wrong, something inevitably did. Nevertheless, we pulled each other through and overcame several unexpected challenges, despite being very close to just getting on the next plane home.

Although we had some extra hurdles, I think travelling in India at all is a total minefield for anyone, but you just have to accept the disorder and embrace the madness.

It may have started out (and continued for a fair while) as a total nightmare, but I definitely think we will both be better prepared for mishaps and abrupt, last minute changes in future veterinary practice – after all, we have this to reminisce over and think “it could be worse – at least we’re not stranded in India.”

September 15, 2015
The great veterinary bake off
“If you’re going to bake, you should do it properly.”

There is an unwritten rule that, at the end of each clinical placement (or, in some cases, every Friday), veterinary students are expected to produce some sort of edible creation for staff at the practice that so kindly opened its doors to them.

The cop out (and to be quite honest, more expensive) option is a box of chocolates, which, while quick and easy, can be quite pricey depending on the size of practice you’re catering for.

Another quick(ish) fix is packet baking, which usually requires the addition of a couple of ingredients, sticking in the oven and “bang”, tray bake for the whole practice. While some people swear by these – and if you buy the right one, they can taste pretty good – I feel it’s cheating somewhat. If you’re going to bake, you should do it properly.

Plus, sneaky packet baking can leave you open to awkward questions about the recipe or how you made it, and vet students are already subject to awkward daily grillings on placement, so any that can be avoided if possible would be a bonus.

So that leaves actually baking…

Now, I’m no Mary Berry, but I can whip up a good brownie or some decent cupcakes at 11pm on a Thursday night if need be.

My personal go-to recipe is for coffee cupcakes – it’s simple, involves normal cupboard stocks, is fairly quick to whip up, yet has an impressive edge. After all, most vets live on coffee, so why not add a little more to their Friday?
12 Coffee Cupcakes

INGREDIENTS:
- 100g butter
- 100g caster sugar
- 2 eggs
- 100g self raising flour
- 1.5 tsp instant coffee granules mixed with 1 tsp warm water
METHOD:
1. Heat oven to 180 degrees celcius
2. Mix the butter and sugar
3. Beat the eggs in a bowl and add the coffee/water mix to the beaten eggs
4. Add eggs and flour to the mixture bit by bit and mix
5. Spoon into cake cases and bake for 15mins
6. Lift the cakes onto a wire rack to cool
Coffee Buttercream

INGREDIENTS:
- 100g butter
- 220g icing sugar
- 1 tsp instant coffee granules mixed with 1 tsp warm water
METHOD:
1. Mix the above until they form a paste consistency
2. Once the cupcakes have cooled, spread buttercream onto the cupcakes or pipe a swirl for a more professional finish.
So, when you sit down to watch the The Great British Bake Off this week, spare a moment to think of the veterinary students up and down the UK burning the midnight oil trying to concoct something even passable in an effort to persuade their vets they know how to do something right.
August 30, 2015
Prognosis not diagnosis
The “suck it and see” approach can be perfectly reasonable depending on the situation. Photo: Freeimages.com/T.Rolf

“Prognose, prognose, prognose” is a phrase uttered regularly by a vet I’ve spent a lot of EMS and pre-uni work experience with.

Anyone would think he’s trying to drive the point home.

But it makes a lot of sense: although we have myriad diagnostic tests available to us, they won’t always give us a definitive answer, and the owner of an animal, for whatever reason, will often choose the option of “we’ll try this and see” before resorting to getting a clear answer, if necessary.

Suck it and see

Although many vets (and future vets) are perfectionists by nature who would, ideally, want to establish exactly what’s going on before throwing anti-inflammatories (for example) at an animal, it’s not always possible or cost effective to do that – and that is something we have to accept.

The “suck it and see” approach, however, can be perfectly reasonable, depending on the situation.

In my vet’s words: “half the time I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s going on” – and that’s okay. You can’t always get to the bottom of why and what is occurring in your patients, but symptomatic treatment is often both a reasonable and successful approach.

His advice is that you don’t necessarily need a diagnosis, but you MUST give a prognosis. You must forecast what you expect to happen with the treatment given (and give time frames) and inform the client that if there isn’t a marked improvement, if things go backwards or the disease process/condition behaves in an unexpected way, they must bring the animal back for reassessment ASAP. That way, the client has the responsibility to judge for themselves whether something more needs to be done.

Red light green light

This vet also promoted the use of a simple “traffic light” system, through which you decide – on a case-by-case basis – whether you’d rate them a “green, amber or red”.
- Green – you know exactly what is wrong with the animal, you have treated accordingly and expect if to make a recovery (or, in the case of things like diabetes or atopy, can manage the condition successfully long term).
- Amber – you don’t really know what’s going on, but it isn’t immediately life-threatening and diagnostic tests aren’t urgent at this stage. The “suck and see” approach, by treating symptomatically or “just letting it run its course”, is appropriate for these patients (e.g. an unexplained episode of vomiting or diarrhoea).
- Red – not necessarily life-threatening but the patient needs diagnostic tests ASAP or admitting to the surgery for supportive/palliative care (e.g. suspected parvo, 10/10 lameness).
This simple system helps students (and vets) assess the severity/urgency of conditions seen in the consult room there and then, whether they have a diagnosis or not.

Importantly, he also said you can’t have two “ambers” in a row – if a patient sent away with symptomatic treatment returns a week later with no improvement, you must take further action and start testing.

There’s a limited amount that can be done in a 10-minute consult and the key is to be able to make a quick judgement on what the next step is during that time.

Even if you don’t have a diagnosis, prognose, prognose, prognose!
August 15, 2015
The camelid conundrum

Llamas are social animals.

Despite expecting a purely equine placement, I’ve had a bit of a crash course in camelids over the past two weeks.

As alpacas and llamas continue to increase in popularity throughout the UK, more and more first opinion vets are having to apply their knowledge from other species to these slightly odd creatures.

Having had no previous experience with either of them, even just handling and trying to read their behaviour was a bit of a challenge.

Being social animals who get extremely upset when alone, one in-patient (a llama) was accompanied by two of his friends to minimise stress levels.

Sadly, said llama didn’t make it, but his acquaintances were able to travel home together, considerably less stressed than a lone llama forced to leave its dead friend behind.

Drugs done different

I also accompanied two of the vets to go and castrate eight alpacas, which thankfully went smoother than expected. In addition to learning the procedure itself – which is very similar to castrating a dog, apart from leaving the incision open and only using local anaesthetic – I learned how some drugs must be used differently in these animals. For example, lidocaine has to be mixed with sterile water rather than used straight.

Luckily, we had plenty of help and most people involved were experienced handlers, which made the whole operation run fairly smoothly, even if everyone did get splattered with blood and alpaca spit.

I found out the hard way that alpacas have extremely powerful legs and sharp claws, having had one narrowly miss my face but leave a considerable scratch along my neck, and another tear straight through a pair of very hardy waterproof trousers, in addition to leaving me with numerous bruises.

The point of an alpaca

What’s the point of an alpaca?

Having also been to castrate a llama that day, this sparked a discussion about the purpose of camelids in this country.

Llamas are sometimes kept as guard animals for flocks of sheep, and alpacas for their wool – but, other than being expensive pets or “field ornaments”, what is the end market for breeders?

A breeder present for the mass emasculation expressed his support for castration since, as the popularity of these South American natives grows, so does the number of unwanted individuals.

This discussion on the welfare of unwanted animals reminded me of Princess Anne’s suggestion that a UK horse meat market would decrease the number of unwanted horses.

Could the same be said for camelids? Would an alpaca meat market in this country help the problem, and would it ever take off anyway? Being a very lean meat, I think there could be a market in a nation of people yearning for a healthy lifestyle.

Having visited South America in 2013, I’ll admit I was more inclined to try alpaca steak than another of their native dishes – and believe it far more likely to take off in the UK than guinea pig.

July 31, 2015
Out of Africa: two weeks in the wild
Shamwari Game Reserve, South Africa.

Wildlife veterinary medicine is more than being a good shot with a dart gun and knowing what anaesthetics to fill the darts with.

I know this because I was part of a group from Glasgow vet school that visited the Shamwari Game Reserve in South Africa to find out exactly what wildlife medicine entails.

Minimal intervention

Generally, as the animals on the reserve are considered wild, the main aim is to keep veterinary intervention to a minimum.

The majority of the veterinary work is translocation (involving mainly sedation and/or anaesthesia) but there are a few exceptions, which are often dealt with in the reserve’s rehabilitation centre – particularly if the animal in question is rare or highly valuable.

Although we learned a lot about anaesthetics (which was surprisingly easy to relate to practice at home), there’s far more to it than meets the eye.

In-depth knowledge

During our two-week stay we learned that an in-depth knowledge of animal behaviour, among other aspects of conservation, is the vital foundation of the veterinary work.

For example, the length of time an animal will spend in transit and whether the animal will be woken up in the field will have an impact on drug choices – a prey animal needs a complete and rapid recovery in the field to avoid showing weakness to the herd or any predators in the vicinity, whereas an animal travelling halfway across South Africa would require longer lasting sedation.

Species differences are also important to consider; drugs that are highly dangerous in some animals may be the sedative of choice in others.

Additionally, the reaction to being darted needs to be carefully evaluated in terms of both the animals’ and the staff’s safety. We were particularly aware of this when working with buffalo and having to judge the right amount of sedation reversal to allow them to wake up completely, while giving ourselves enough time to dash into the truck and put a safe distance between us before they did so.

A different perspective

The team at Shamwari were eager to give us a practical, hands-on experience – which was great.

Image courtesy Shamwari Conservation Experience.

Not only was it an awe-inspiring couple of weeks, but it was also incredibly useful in terms of consolidating knowledge and practical application of pharmacology – particular anaesthesia.

Experiencing all aspects of conservation in addition to the veterinary work also gave a different perspective to veterinary medicine.

It was exhilarating to be working with such beautiful and potentially dangerous animals – I could certainly feel my heart going through the roof when taking blood from a lion whose snores sounded suspiciously like growls.
- Learn more about Shamwari Game Reserve.
July 15, 2015
Why does the ‘P’ word send shivers down a vet’s neck?

We do get taught about pigs at uni, but they are seen so irregularly in practice that the “P” word sends a shiver of fear down any vet’s neck.

Having a pig farm in the family gives me a bit of a distorted view on the world. For example, I’m a complete pork snob and would rather go without then eat crap sausages.

However, I find it bizarre vets start panicking and fervently flicking through dusty textbooks on the practice shelf before going out on the incredibly infrequent pig call.

When I think about it, though, it isn’t so bizarre. I can’t remember the last time we had a vet out to the pigs. My step-grandad has been looking after them and developing his own bloodline for 50 years – if there’s anything he doesn’t know about pigs, it’s not worth knowing.

The UK pig farming industry has been declining over the years to the point where there are very few pig farms around, and those that still exist rarely need a vet because the farmers know what they’re doing.

We do get taught about pigs at uni, but they are seen so irregularly in practice that the “P” word sends a shiver of fear down any vet’s neck.

But what about the pet pig? I went on one pig call while on placement at a mixed practice, and finding out we were going to see a Gloucester old spot (one of the breeds we have at home), I was intrigued. As it turned out, the pigs were “rescued” from going to slaughter and the pig we had been called out to was lame, but still weight bearing.

Pigs: nothing to be afraid of…

Suspecting a mild break or soft tissue damage after a compromised examination (a quick manipulation before the sow decided she was walking off), the vet gave an anti-inflammatory and advised re-examination a few days later.

On discussing the case with my step-grandad, he disagreed, and muttered something about mycotic lameness or remnant erysipelas. His advice was to “bang in some penicillin” (farmer’s favourite) or lincomycin.

However, on the re-examination, the pig had improved and the owner was given oral anti-inflammatories to continue with.

After relaying this advancement, the pig expert then retracted to: “Well, it could have caught its leg”.

Either way, the pig has improved.

Even though pigs are rare in practice, I think it’s important not to be scared of something you don’t know much about (the same also applies to exotic pets) and to always know the books are there for back up. Failing that, in my case, my step-grandad is a phone call away – even if the second opinion is to be taken with a pinch of salt.

June 30, 2015
Fortnight of firsts at practice placement

I spent a couple of weeks at a mixed practice on extramural studies. It was a placement of firsts – first experience at a very “young” practice (lots of newish graduates), first clinical farm experience and first surgery experience.

It gave me an insight into the difference between older, more experienced vets and new grads – from the way they approach consultations and cases to the time/skill difference in surgical procedures. Obviously, a lot of this comes with experience, but it was reassuring to know I’m not quite as lost as I thought I was (and it also helped me recognise areas to work on).

I did work experience at farm practices before uni, but hadn’t been to one as a proper student. It entailed the bread and butter of farm practice – being shoulder deep in a cow’s rectum.

My younger brother found it particularly fascinating, always asking me when I got home each night how many cows I’d seen. Appealing as it sounds, I found reproductive physiology and pharmacology began making a lot more sense.

One day we were called out to castrate 34 calves, which turned out to be a day of avoiding hailstones while the vet cut, twisted, pulled and I injected. Nearing the end of the never-ending stream of beef calves, the vet invited me to have a go. A few minutes later, covered in blood, cow poo and sweat (it required a surprising amount of elbow grease), I had performed my first surgical procedure.

The following day I found myself being told to scrub up, then was guided through a cat castrate. It was a bit surreal, because the vet started off with “cats are a bit like calves…” I couldn’t help wondering how many students castrated a calf before a cat…

“I couldn’t help wondering how many students castrated a calf before a cat…” Image ©iStock.com/rarinlee

A few days later, the same vet supervised my second unassisted castrate. I had a real sense of achievement, having been able to perform the procedure without being told what to do. I know it’s a simple surgery and may seem like peanuts to a qualified vet, but it was quite a step for me – and everyone has to start somewhere.

I also scrubbed in on an exploratory laparotomy on a ferret, which was unusual to say the least, especially when the huge mass we were investigating in the abdomen turned out to be fluid filled and exploded slightly after a needle was stuck in. Since it was attached to the uterus, the vet decided to spay the ferret, which sparked the conversation of why ferrets aren’t often spayed and the resulting hormonal changes involving the adrenals.

Overall, I had a tiring couple of weeks, but felt the vets were eager to get me involved and my clinical skills certainly progressed further than I expected.

June 16, 2015