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Please do not copy or forward this, I was given permission to share it with
you, this is from my Wonderful Vet Dr. Joe
He has asked to be able to retain his rights as an author on this, if you
feel it needs to be forwarded please ask first!!!!
He is a member on CC's e-group list, or I can e-mail him for you privately
Thank you for understanding this request
Tazzy

to email me

        In the smallest of the wee hours last winter, I was awakened
from sound sleep by the tele- phone.  As the fog cleared, I realized I
had the owners of a desperately sick horse on the line .... and I was
the third doctor involved with the case. We try to avoid this scenario,
but the people were so earnest and the horse so in need of care that I got the directions and headed out into the rain.
         Go up the hill, turn left - half a mile, along a board fence,
look for the red pickup, barn below the fence but you can't see it from the road.  I found all the landmarks, but felt the ominous squish of tires in mud as I pulled off the blacktop right behind the red pickup.  That could wait. Noises came from the dark below as I was getting into my boots and coveralls, gathering tools.  A dark, slippery walk brought me to a disaster even worse than I expected.  The barn was a little building, not originally designed for horse stalls.  Dreamer, a handsome red Quarter Horse gelding, was down flat, groaning, in a stall not much bigger than his length.  The mucous membranes in his mouth were a ghastly purple color.  Pain and shock had driven his heart rate to the top end of the extreme danger zone.  A decent rectal exam wasn't possible with his tail against the wall.  The left side of his neck was
swollen because an intravenous catheter had failed while the distraught owners were walking him and administering IV fluids all at the same time.  About all I could do was get his neck pulled up enough to give him some IV pain medicine in the right jugular vein, which wasn't in much better shape.  Attempts to rouse him were futile, due to his collapse, the small space, and slippery wood floor.  Signs pointed to euthanasia.  Dreamer groaned pitifully on the floor.  The owners were ready to do anything.   I decided to get him out of the stall and outside, on solid ground.
         The door to the stall was narrow, and required a right angle
turn into a sloped passageway to get Dreamer directed towards a covered outdoor paddock.  With a stout halter and rope the three of us were able to swing him around a bit and get his head out the door, but turning the corner was more than we could manage.  I tied several ropes together to reach down the ramp and across the outside paddock to a stout enough post.  We pulled and tightened, but progress was painfully slow .... until one of the owners found an old block and tackle with decaying rope rigging.  We put that in the system, crossed our fingers, and pulled.
The old ropes held!  Dreamer was inched carefully out  the door with much adjusting of legs, and more rapidly down the ramp to the outside world and solid dirt. He came to rest with his feet uphill, looking just as awful.  He was too close to the wall to spin around, so I took my chances and just rolled him over his back.  Amazingly, he gathered his feet under him and ... stood up!  He was very unsteady and near going down again at any moment, but on his feet.  Now at least, I had a patient I could treat.  I stumbled as fast as I could in the dark back to the pickup where I picked up catheter, IV line, medications, fluids, etc.
         The "good"` jugular vein featured multiple needle sticks,
swelling, and fading blood pressure ... but the long, awkward catheter went in on the first try.  Securing a catheter on a wobbly horse by flashlight is just ordinary inconvenience.  Soon we had fluids running full bore, more antibiotics and pain relief on board, and things looking as good as they could short of an emergency trip to Corvallis for surgery.  It honestly didn't look as if Dreamer could live that long, even with the support he was now getting.  I left enough fluids for the morning, pain relief to give as needed, and lots of prayers.
         After putting things away, I got in the pickup and tried to
back up, gently, uphill on the wet ground.  I made about sixteen inches before the wheels spun.  I didn't want to disturb the people ministering to Dreamer; he needed all the help he could get.  So I carefully rocked forward and backward, trying not to dig a big hole.  Used up a bit of clutch, but eventually got about 5 feet back.  Then, hoping the front wheels had enough traction to turn, I pulled her forward and out, barely.  Back home about 4:30 AM.
         Dreamer was dead by 8 o'clock that morning.  On necropsy, most of his large colon was necrotic (dead).  Nothing I could have done would have saved him.  I wasn't in on the initial decision making, but I could have put him to sleep when I first saw him.  Would that have been better?  In hindsight, certainly.  I'm not sure, though, I wouldn't do the same again, with good people so committed, and a brave animal wanting so hard to live.  How can one keep from trying?  When Dreamer stood up after all the moving and straining, he deserved  every chance.
     Life does not give up easily.  Dylan Thomas wrote: "Do not go
gentle into that good night:  Rage, rage against the dying of the
light."  There is majesty in the struggle for life, even as it fails.
Dreamer lost his battle for the light, but we are blessed to witness his valor.  In this season of darkness, we celebrate the coming of the Light: light in darkness at Christmas, life in death at Easter.
Paradoxically, our struggle together for Dreamer, and his valiant effort to carry on, even though unsuccessful, affirm the power of life in us all.  Truly we have reason to celebrate the coming of  Christ in dark seasons, and to rejoice in his declaration for us: "I am come that they might have life, and have it more abundantly."

--
Joe Snyder
Myrtle Point, OR
"It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from here."



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