The First Laceration 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

As I got in my van to head to the clinic, the sun was peeking out over the eastern horizon. It looked like it was going to be another great spring day. I thought how lucky I was to have such good weather for my first weeks of practice in Enumclaw.

I entered the back door of the clinic. I was the first one in the office. When I was in the army, I learned that being the first to arrive and the last to leave always caught the attention of the supervisors, whoever they happened to be. I figured it was a good habit to keep in practice.

I went to the front counter and checked the appointment book. There were only three farm calls scheduled for the morning. The procedure was to get the planned farm calls out of the way first, then we could concentrate on the stuff in the clinic.

My name was on the appointment to castrate four bull calves. That should be an easy call, I thought.

Ann, the owner’s wife, entered the front office about then.

“I put you down to do those castrations,” Ann said. “Is that something you can handle yourself?”

This was my second week out of school, and everyone wanted to make sure I could handle everything before sending me out on my own.

“I have done a lot of castrations in school,” I said. “I shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Well, the note says bull calves,” Ann said. “But, Billie always calls everything a calf. These might be close to yearlings.”

“I shouldn’t have any problems,” I assured Ann as I started checking everything to ensure I was prepared to make the call.

It was a short drive to Billie’s place, and Billie and Sue were waiting with the calves in the crowding alley. Ann had been spot on in her assessment. These young bulls were well past weaning. They all probably weighed over six hundred pounds.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Larsen,” I said as I shook Billie’s hand. “Let’s get the first one in the chute, and we will make short work of this job.”

“I was hoping you would take this call,” Sue said. “We have heard good things about you.”

I poured some warm water into my bucket and squirted some Betadine into the water. I put my instruments in the bucket, a large forceps, scissors, the emasculator, and a scalpel with a new blade.

“You seem to be practiced at this for being a new vet,” Billie said. “You must have done this before.”

“I went to vet school in Colorado,” I said. “Castrations were a common procedure for us in school. I have done this quite a few times.”

“So, Jack usually just cuts the bottom of the sack off when he does his castrations,” Billie said. “We seem to have quite a few that have some swelling afterward.”

“On bulls this size, I like to make a cut down each side of the scrotum, do the castration, and then continue those incisions across the bottom of the scrotum,” I said. “That way, we end up with two flaps, and there is no place for fluid to accumulate. When the bottom of the scrotum is cut off, it works great on little calves, but this size, that scrotum sort of closes up too fast during the healing process, and you will see some swelling.”

That discussion put Billie at ease, and I stepped behind the first bull. I grabbed the scrotum and squeezed the testicles down tight against the skin. Then with one swipe of the scalpel, I opened the side of the scrotum, cutting into the testicle at the same time.

The bull jumped and kicked a little, hitting my right forearm. The scalpel, held in my right hand, found the heel of my thumb on my left hand, making a neat laceration a little over an inch long. Damn, that hurt.

I stood up and returned to the van. I wrapped my hand with some gauze and pulled on a surgical glove.

“Are you going to be okay with that cut?” Sue asked.

“I think so. It won’t take long to finish here,” I said. “Then I can go take care of this hand.”

“We don’t have any problem with waiting on the others,” Sue said.

“I will be okay,” I said. “But I think we will tail these guys. Let me show you what I want you to do, Billie.”

I showed Billie how to bend the bulls’ tails up over their backs, putting enough pressure on the tail to cause a bit of a nerve pinch. This helped immobilize the bull and lessened the procedure’s pain.

I finished the first bull, and the other three didn’t take much time. There was no more dancing in the chute with Billie bending their tails.

When I was done, and all the bulls were sprayed well for flies, I went to the truck and pulled off the surgery glove. It was filled with blood. I put another wrap on my hand and another glove for the drive back to the clinic.

“How did things go?” Ann asked as I walked into the clinic. “It didn’t take you very long.”

“The castrations went well, but I cut my hand a little,” I said.

Ann watched as I pulled the surgery glove off. 

“That looks like it needs to be sutured,” Ann said. “We have a busy morning, but you should go to the doctor and get that taken care of before it gets infected.”

“I think I will sew it up myself,” I said.

“Now, how can you do that with just one hand?” Ann asked.

“That won’t be a problem. The problem will be getting it injected with some lidocaine,” I said. “I’m not very good at sticking myself with a needle.”

We went into the surgery room and laid out a surgery set and suture. I drew up a dose of lidocaine in a syringe and scrubbed the laceration with Betadine. Then after several attempts, I injected some lidocaine around the cut.

Placing the sutures was no problem with my right hand. But I wished I had practiced my one-hand surgery ties a little more. But, with some help from Ann, I got the wound closed.

“That looks pretty good,” Ann said. “But what about a tetanus shot?”

“I just had one last fall,” I said. “I should be good to go.”

The rest of the day went along well. I kept my left hand gloved just to keep it clean. 

Sandy was quick to notice the glove when I got home.

“What happened to your hand?” Sandy asked.

“I cut it on my first slice of a scrotum,” I said.

“Very funny, let me look at it,” Sandy said. “Who sutured it?”

“I did it myself,” I said.

“They do have state comp insurance, you know,” Sandy said. “You should have gone to the doctor.”

“We had a busy day,” I said.

***

Sue was in the clinic a few days later to pay her bill.

“I just wanted to check on your hand,” Sue said. “And Billie wanted to let you know how pleased we were with your job. Those steers acted like nothing had happened. They had no swelling at all.”

“My hand is healing well,” I said as I held my hand for her to see.

“That looks good,” Sue said. “Who sewed that up for you? I might want to go to that doctor.”

“He did it himself,” Ann said. “Can you believe that?”

“When it happened, I thought it would be the end of the call,” Sue said. “But he just wrapped it up, put on a glove, and finished the job.”

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash.