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Tag: EMS

  • It takes balls to neuter

    Sterilising a dog
    A close up of a vet performing sterilisation surgery on a dog. Image ©iStockphoto.com/Dan-Edwards

    As graduates, one of the most routine surgeries that we will be expected to be competent at is neutering. As students, when on work experience or EMS, we will have seen at least one of these procedures a day at small or mixed practices… often more.

    But routine does not necessarily mean easy, simple or without risk. When learning about reproductive anatomy, we were faced with a harsh truth: the concept of spaying is actually fairly terrifying, particularly as there is a considerable risk of a bitch bleeding to death.

    Spaying is not to be underestimated. Among the usual complications and risks involved in the use of general anaesthetic, there are also a few scary blood vessels to worry about.

    During the surgery, it is necessary for both pairs of ovarian and uterine arteries to be cut. It is of vital importance that these are ligatured (tied off) securely to prevent the likelihood of internal bleeding post-surgery. Neither of these are to be underestimated – the ovarian arteries are particularly important to ligature properly, since they branch directly from the aorta. A slipped ligature could result in serious problems, and could potentially result in the patient bleeding to death.

    The concept of spaying is actually fairly terrifying, particularly as there is a considerable risk of a bitch bleeding to death.Clients should always be made aware of surgical risks and all eventualities, but I would imagine that the last thing an owner would expect after taking their dog or cat to be neutered would be the death of their beloved pet post-surgery.

    This is quite a daunting prospect for the “most routine” surgery in practice. You can’t afford to be complacent – you really do have to get it right.

    As an avid traveller, I had always intended on getting involved in a neutering clinic in India for EMS, even before learning just how risky neutering can be if not done properly. Now, I will make sure to realise that aim, in order to get as much surgical practise as possible before graduating. Hopefully, it will help boost my confidence, so that I won’t be as concerned as I am currently about this “routine” surgery by the time I am a qualified vet.

  • A vet school storm on the horizon

    Following last year’s announcement that the University of Surrey is to open a new veterinary school (taking in the first cohort of students in autumn 2014), it would appear that the University of Ulster (Northern Ireland) is now jumping on the bandwagon.

    These proposals have indeed kicked up quite a storm in the veterinary world.

    There seems to be little positive attitude towards this news, with many of us panicking about academic standards, graduate prospects and EMS availability.

    With neither of these being Russell Group universities, it has to be questioned whether the academic standards will be comparable to the current UK vet schools.

    It is notoriously difficult to get into vet school, but will the two new universities have lower entry requirements? If so, this would be providing a back up option for many applicants and, as a result, decrease the currently high standard of veterinary students. If the graduates are indeed less knowledgable, or have less well-developed clinical skills, would this encourage the employment of poorer quality vets in second-rate practices?

    Evidently, more veterinary graduates would mean more competition for jobs, hence pushing down the salaries that graduates would be willing for work for.

    It has been suggested that the restricted number of graduates being able to go directly into clinical practice would mean that more veterinary students would be encouraged to take a different career route (research or veterinary education, for example). But if the aim is not to produce veterinary professionals, why not instead increase the intake on veterinary biosciences courses for those more interested in research?

    I also think it unfair to expect new graduates to begin teaching at vet schools immediately, even if that is what they’re interested in doing. Their credibility and respect from their students would be dramatically reduced if they’ve not actually had any experience in practice and can’t give clinical case examples to the possible vets of the future.

    Another concern is the availability for EMS opportunities. With an increased number of students throughout the UK as a whole, it will become increasingly difficult for students to gain clinical EMS placements. To further the competition, Surrey will not be opening its own teaching hospital as such, and it is expected that final year rotations will instead take place in veterinary practices in the surrounding area, reducing their availability for students from other universities to undertake EMS.

    Could this be the future employment opportunity for UK veterinary graduates?

    Of course, there are a lot of “ifs” and “buts” here, and potentially the two new vet schools could produce better graduates than the rest of the UK – but this would still increase the competition for graduate jobs and EMS placements.

    In my opinion, the main concern is not the repercussions of opening these two vet schools themselves, but the catastrophic effects that would result from further universities following suit.

    With little legislation able to dictate requirements for opening a new vet school, the prospect of having as many veterinary education institutions as medical ones could soon become a reality. Before we know it, we could be inundated with veterinary graduates, some of questionable quality, and the next generation of veterinary professionals will be fighting tooth and nail for a severely underpaid job.

  • “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”

    “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”

    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
    All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a…

    After a summer of EMS, traveling and very little academic work, the time finally came for me to come back down to earth.

    Having been back in Glasgow for about a month now, I think I’ve just about settled into the second-year routine. After a week of scavenging freebies and signing up to every club under the sun at the fresher’s fayres, I managed to just about fit in everything that I want to do this year around vet school.

    During the day, we’re back to lectures and practicals on everything from farm animal nutrition to parasitology, respiratory system anatomy to learning where to put ECG electrodes on a dog.

    I have to say that, so far, second year has been more interesting than first year was. Whether this is because of the course content, a different outlook on my part, or simply the fact that I now know the drill, I couldn’t say. But I certainly seem to have gained more passion for the subjects we’re studying at the minute.

    Glasgow University Guardian
    Glasgow University Guardian

    But it’s not all about studying. This year, I’ve taken on a lot more outside of vet school than I did before. Having this time made it on to the university riding team, I have training every week with my teammates at the local stables, and also hope to start doing a bit of polo. I’ve also gotten involved with Glasgow University Guardian, the student newspaper, in order to do some writing and editing, as well as to learn what goes on behind the scenes when producing a publication.

    Every Easter, Glasgow vet school hosts a big charity event called the Rodeo, and it is the responsibility of the second years (with some acquired help from the freshers) to organise it. A group of my friends and classmates have formed this year’s committee, with me taking on the role of secretary and helping out with advertising the event. Hopefully it won’t be too stressful and we will work together to pull off the best Rodeo so far!

    So it looks like I’m in for a busy year, but it should make being a vet student all the more exciting.

  • Broaden your horizons with EMS

    Broaden your horizons with EMS

    Bolivia
    ©iStockphoto.com/mjbs

    When I received yet another EMS email that had been sent to the whole vet school, I almost deleted it out of habit, but something stopped me. A word caught my eye: Bolivia.

    I had always wanted to go to South America – would this be my chance to tick something off the bucket list as well as get in a few weeks of EMS?

    After a few days of mulling it over, I decided to fill out the online application – I could always change my mind, and I might not even get selected anyway – but the next day, I received an email inviting me to take part in a Skype interview. Shortly afterwards, I was offered a place on the project, so I decided to bite the bullet and say yes.

    The project I will be volunteering on runs a wildlife sanctuary that houses various types of monkeys and birds as well as jaguars and pumas. Many of the animals are rescued from the fur and pet trades. While re-release back into the wild is difficult (especially for the big cats, due to local laws), the animals are given a much better life in the sanctuary than the alternative.

    Antimalarial drugs
    ©iStockphoto.com/BeauDamonRichardsGallery

    As well as handling and work with the animals, the students on the project will help construct new animal enclosures. The project itself lasts for six weeks, but I will be then going on to Peru for a two-week expedition afterwards.

    Before going abroad, I’ve had to organise vaccinations against hepatitis, typhoid, yellow fever and rabies. I’ve also had to obtain malaria tablets to take while I’m out there. As for equipment, I haven’t had to buy too many “specialist” things as such – just a big rucksack, old clothes and the odd thing like water purification tablets and rehydration sachets.

    With less than a week to go, I’m starting to get excited but still in shock that it’s actually happening. And I really need to start packing!

    I’ll let you know how it was when I return to the UK in two months!

  • One year as a vet student

    Jordan

    Having received my results for the professional exams, I can finally say that I’ve finished my first year at vet school!

    Being brutally honest, the first term was a bit of a culture shock. I had focused so much on getting into vet school and being a vet that I didn’t really think about what it would be like when I actually got there.

    Coming from a town on the edge of the countryside in the heart of England and moving to Glasgow was quite a change. Although the vet school is on the edge of the city in a fairly green area, it wasn’t the same as being able to cycle 10 miles on quiet country roads to the farm where my horses are kept.

    I think what I found the hardest was not being able to ride. I had gone from riding my horse every day to having a lesson with the uni riding club once a week. Owning a horse is a lifestyle, and not something I wanted to give up.

    While the first term was largely spent getting used to the mountainous workload, I managed to squeeze other things into my time. Many of my friends from home went to uni a year earlier than me and have told me that Fresher’s Week is the craziest uni experience. But none of them are vets, and they don’t know what AVS Sports weekend is (an annual event hosted by the Association of Veterinary Students). This year, it was held in Glasgow, so we didn’t do any traveling, but certainly experienced the madness of meeting people from every other vet school, who came in all shapes and sizes – penguins, mimes, power rangers and more.

    Another annual inter-vet-school event for us is Dick Day, where Glasgow competes against Edinburgh – The Royal (Dick) School of Veterinary Studies – in various team sports. Again, this year, it was held in Glasgow. Unlike AVS, the sport on Dick Day is serious and there was a strong sense of rivalry between the schools. I was part of the vet hockey team, but unfortunately we did not defeat the Dick vets in our match.

    After battling through a long term of learning at a hundred times the rate we were used to and facing the stress of the class exams, I started the second term knowing better what to expect. I threw myself into getting fit for Easter by swimming, cycling and gyming. I also took up a weekly creative writing class that was put on by the Glasgow uni English department, to rekindle my love of writing.

    At Easter, I had my first taste of EMS in the form of my first time lambing. The placement was great – we got loads of hands-on experience and got involved in all aspects of lambing time. We learnt loads, and everything from those seemingly endless sheep lectures started to sink in. Although tiring, we enjoyed every bit of it.

    I also spent a week in Norway doing a charity dog sledding challenge to raise money for the Warwickshire and Northamptonshire Air Ambulance, who saved my life when I had a serious riding accident two years previously. My family and I had spent a year raising money by doing bucket collections, making Christmas decorations, selling Valentines Day cupcakes, and selling bedding plants. The challenge was fantastic – I loved working with the dogs and getting to see the beautiful Arctic landscape.

    However, the day after I landed back in the UK, I was driving back to Glasgow to face revision and the end of year professional exams. I especially began to feel the pressure, because I had arranged to be abroad during the summer when resits would be scheduled (not a wise move, and not something I’d recommend).

    We had exams in five subjects: anatomy, physiology, biomolecular sciences, animal husbandry and veterinary professional and clinical skills (VPCS). While I felt most of them went OK, I was almost certain I’d mucked up VPCS after the first day of practicals, having gotten flustered and putting sharps in the wrong bin (we make such idiots out of ourselves when we’re nervous).

    During the first month of the summer holidays (while avoiding thinking about the inevitable doom that results would bring), I did some dairy EMS. I’d never been on a dairy farm before and found the experience extremely useful in improving handling skills and my understanding of the dairy industry. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I’d retained from the two cattle lectures we’d had so far.

    Without warning, our results started to trickle in, one subject at a time… and so began the momentary relief after receiving one and then the rising anticipation for the next one. Finally, the last one came in, and by some miracle (or so it felt), I had passed all of them! All that worrying about being away for resits was extinguished, and now I could get on with preparing for the next set of EMS I had planned… six weeks in Bolivia in a wildlife sanctuary.

    And so I have passed first year. It’s been hard work and no doubt second year will be harder, but vet school hasn’t defeated me yet!

  • Robotic milking: the future of dairy farming?

    Robotic milking: the future of dairy farming?

    Milking robot
    Robots mean that dairy farmers’ working hours are much better – no early morning or late night milking.

    When I organised to do some dairy EMS, the farmer told me he doesn’t work at “ridiculously early hours” because he has milking robots. It sounded incredibly sci-fi and I didn’t really know what to expect, but when he first showed me around the farm and explained how they work, I was extremely impressed.

    The robot recognises each individual by an electronic tag, which is strapped around one leg and also acts as a pedometer. Everything is completely automated – there isn’t even any need for manual attachment of the cows teats; the robots not only have built in lasers which are used to locate them, but also remember the rough position of them for each cow. The robots are programmed to milk the desired amount for each cow. The cows are free to come to the robots for milking whenever they want, but if they return too soon to be milked again, the robot will allow them to pass through without being milked.

    The robots dramatically reduce the incidence of mastitis, since the clusters are much more hygienic for the cows than those in a parlour. They’re automatically washed in between each cow, in addition to the teats themselves being cleaned both before and after milking. The number of foot problems is reduced since there is no queueing to get into a parlour. There is less strain on the udder because the cows are not limited to specific times for milking. Milking is also much more efficient, since each quarter of the udder is treated individually, so no teat is under or over-milked.

    When a cow calves, the robot is programmed to begin milking her, in small amounts to start with. For the first couple of milkings, the robot sends the milk to a separate tank, so the colostrum can be given to the newborn calf.

    Lots of data is provided by the robot. The pedometer gives a minute-by-minute recording of activity level, which can be used to see when the cow is bulling, and so indicates when to AI the cow. The robot itself also conducts a basic analysis of the milk produced by each cow, which gives an immediate indication of quality and can provide an early warning for conditions such as mastitis, even before clinical signs appear.

    Milking robot
    Will there be a major shift towards robotic milking in the future?

    There’s also obvious advantages for the farmer. Working hours are much better – no early morning or late night milking. Such a decrease in the labour needs means that there’s much money to be saved that would be spent employing staff.

    However, all of this comes at a cost. The big question is whether the huge initial cost for a robot outweighs the time and money they save the farmer. The robots are computerised so a steep learning curve would need to be undertaken to get used to the technology, which isn’t something that all farmers would be prepared to do.

    Of course, the sceptics will also be asking “what if it goes wrong?” After all, computers aren’t flawless.

    The farmer I’ve been working with has two robots, and says that they do have occasional faults, but he always has the second one as a back up to be used while the other is being repaired. The technicians are on call 24/7, so the robots usually get fixed quickly. He said that, only once, both robots went down due to a fault with the computer system. It was brief, but while the repair was going on, the old milking parlour was used.

    The milking robot is certainly a very clever piece of kit. Robots have slowly become more popular over the last few years as the machinery has become more reliable. But will there be a major shift towards robotic milking in the future? Will the younger generations of farmers be more inclined to use robots in order to maintain a lifestyle with better working hours? I think that robots are the next step in the evolution of dairy farming, but it’s impossible to tell how long it’ll take for them to be used by the vast majority.

  • Luck of the draw

    During the Easter holidays, I had my first EMS placement. Although I’d hand-reared cade lambs before, I’d never actually been lambing. Someone in the year above at Glasgow had been to the farm that I and some of my friends had arranged to go to. While they said it would be a good placement, we still didn’t really know what to expect.

    The farmer didn’t just set us doing menial tasks such as feeding and watering.
    Luckily, the farmer didn’t just set us doing menial tasks such as feeding and watering.

    It turned out that it probably couldn’t have been better. We got a really friendly farmer who explained everything to us and seemed to strike the balance perfectly between teaching, supervision and leaving us to it when confident enough.

    He also didn’t just set us doing menial tasks such as feeding and watering. Of course, we did do some, but he was eager to get us involved in as much lambing as possible and more “vetty” tasks such as injecting sheep or lambs, tube-feeding colostrum and worming. It definitely seemed like he went out of his way to make sure we experienced all aspects of ewe and lamb care during lambing time.

    While talking to both the farmer and the other students that were there, we discussed horror stories of placements other people had been on. We’d heard of people sleeping in caravans, cooking for themselves (in said caravan) and being abandoned with very little instruction with a field of lambing sheep. Having warm beds to sleep in the farmhouse, home cooking and as much food as possible thrown at us, we felt very lucky, considering what we could have ended up with.

    Unless a placement has been recommended, it is very much luck that determines what sort of accommodation or people you’ll end up working with. We were so grateful to draw the long straw with lambing. It would have been very easy to end up with a placement on which we wouldn’t learn or do nearly as much.

  • Welfare inside out

    A sow nursing her piglets in a farrowing crate.
    A sow nursing her piglets in a farrowing crate.

    As vet students, welfare is always being rammed down our throats – and rightly so (even after only two weeks of first year). As future veterinary professionals it will be part of our job to ensure the welfare of the animals entrusted to our care.

    Deciding what is “the right thing” to do can often be tricky, as there is never a straight black and white answer. Knowing whether an animal’s welfare is at risk is often down to individual opinion and, therefore, relies on experience.

    There is a famous quotation: “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

    I believe this applies to evaluating welfare. Often, from the outside, without understanding the reasons behind particular procedures or practices, it’s easy to think from a first impression that something is cruel or unnecessary. But, in reality, there is usually a good reason for these practices, particularly in the production industry.

    In one welfare lecture, we were made to believe that keeping sows in farrowing crates was cruel. The sow has little room to lie down, she can’t turn round and may bite the bars of the crate in frustration, resulting in mouth sores. But what about the piglets she is about to farrow? It is their welfare that is protected by keeping her in the crate. The crate prevents her rolling on them, allowing them to suckle without the danger of getting squashed. What good is giving a sow more room if it results in half a litter of dead piglets?

    A humane twitch: a useful aid for difficult horses, especially when clipping around horse's head and performing other 'frightening' tasks.
    A humane twitch: a useful aid for difficult horses, especially when clipping around horse’s head and performing other ‘frightening’ tasks.

    On the same note, coming from a pig farming background, I have seen pigs kept in pens of about five, instead of staying in the open pen, opting themselves to lie in the feeding crates if they’ve been left open (not at feeding time). Confining a pig to a small space may seem cruel from the outside, but is it really, when the pigs will lie in feeding crates out of choice, probably to keep cool and avoid fighting with the others in the pen?

    Another example of a misunderstood practice is twitching a horse. Twitches may be made of rope or metal, and can look horrific when being used, since they are twisted tightly around the horse’s muzzle.

    An outsider would not understand that the twitch is designed to pinpoint a pressure point that induces release of endorphins. Consequently, this calms the horse and is a very useful technique when the horse is being difficult to handle during clipping or other veterinary procedures, and avoids the use of sedatives.

    Assessment of welfare is very much based on individual opinion. Personally, I have had little experience with dairy farming so might at first think that some procedures are cruel when I set out on EMS in the summer. But it’s important to remember to stand back and understand the reasoning behind the actions of those who handle the animals every day before prejudging an establishment based on what you see or think you are seeing to begin with.

  • In the beginning…

    In the beginning…

    I think it’s fair to say I have a less than conventional pre-veterinary school story. In early 2011, after years of working hard at school, gathering experience at different animal establishments and doing regular work experience at a nearby practice, I finally received an offer for veterinary school.

    Student blogger Jordan Sinclair.

    All I had to do was get the right grades in my final A-Level exams that summer. Or so I thought. In March, a horse I’d been exercising had other ideas.

    One moment I was mounting in a car park at a showjumping competition; the next thing I knew, I was waking up in hospital 10 days later.

    Involuntary gap year

    Despite 12 broken ribs, a punctured lung, a collapsed lung, a broken clavicle and nerve damage, I was still determined to go to the University of Glasgow that year. After a month, I came out of hospital and soon realised I couldn’t fight the sleepy side effects of the morphine long enough to pick up a book, let alone try to catch up with the schoolwork I’d missed.

    Glasgow were fantastic – I remember mum being on the phone trying to explain the situation, while I tried to gauge the response from half the conversation. They would not only allow me to defer, but told her I needed to, in order to guarantee full physical fitness for the start of the course.

    So what did I do with my involuntary gap year? I spent quite a lot of it recovering. The Air Ambulance Service saved my life by operating at the scene of the accident, and since it is a charity, I started volunteering and fund-raising for it.

    When I was well enough, I rode again. Over Christmas, I visited family in Australia and, while I wasn’t allowed to scuba dive due to the previously collapsed lung, nothing was stopping me snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef. I then returned to school to finish my A-Levels.

    The long journey begins

    Finally, after seeing my friends go through it the previous year, results day came. And so began the mad rush to kit up for veterinary school; books, wellies, overalls and goodness knows what else were gathered up and rammed into the car. Unfortunately, my horse wouldn’t fit in the boot, and I heard cats weren’t permitted in halls. So, petless and not knowing what to expect, I started the long journey north.

    I thought A-levels were hard; veterinary school is a whole new ball game. You know it’s not going to be easy when even working out your timetable is almost impossible. It was equally daunting to see the proportions of internationals and postgraduates who all seemed to know everything compared to us Brits, who were fresh(ish) out of school.

    One moment I was at a showjumping competition, the next I was waking up in hospital.

    Anatomy was like learning a new language, with hundreds of obscure words being thrown at you in one lecture; in a whole sentence, the only recognisable words could be “the” or “and”.

    Dissections took some getting used to, when you’ve only ever observed surgery and never actually made contact with a cadaver before. However, after a couple of weeks you can actually visualise where everything is and things start to slot into place.

    A whole new world

    For those not from farming backgrounds (I’m not sure what I consider myself – my horses were kept on a pig farm), husbandry was a whole new world. We all have varying degrees of experience in some area of farming or animal care, otherwise we wouldn’t be here, but trying to learn a lifetimes worth of experience in keeping sheep from someone in six hours seemed crazy. Now, it’s easy to see the importance of preclinical EMS – you can’t learn everything from a book. Though it is good to take a break from bookwork and head out to the uni farm for handling sessions every so often.

    After my riding accident, I was given a CD with all of my radiographs and CT scan pictures on. Although the idea of having my own x-rays was novel, aside from seeing the obvious snap in the collar bone, they meant very little. After being shown an example of a radiograph showing the collapsed lung in a dog in the first couple of weeks at Glasgow, I went back to my stashed away x-rays. To my delight, I could see things more clearly, although did find it odd being able to understand how smashed up my insides had been. So far, the CT pictures still remain a mystery though.

    I’m not sure if the beginning of vet school is what I expected or not. In some respects, it seems very real now, with professionalism being drummed into us from the outset. And in others, it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel from here.