Shot by a Neighbor

D. E. Larsen, DVM

We moved the exam table to the side of the exam room to give a little more room to examine Michael’s Great Pyrenees. Jasmine was sore and had s small spot of blood in the middle of her back.

“What do you think is wrong, Doc,” Michael asked?

“I don’t know. We need to shave some of this hair and look for the source of that blood. When did this happen?”

“She was fine last night, and I had to really coax her to get out of her bed this morning.”

Jasmine winced when I felt over the bloodied hair. Rather than a clipper, I shaved the hair away with a straight razor. 

“Looks like a bullet wound to me,” I said. “It is probably a twenty-two, based on the size of the hole. Looks like we are going to have to lift her onto the x-ray table.”

With Michael’s help, we got her on the x-ray table and took a set of x-rays.

“This bullet is lodged in her lumbar spine. It looks really close to the spinal cord, but she is neurologically normal.”

“Do you think we need to remove it,” Michael asked?

“This looks like a difficult surgery for me. Dr. Slocum in Eugene would have the equipment to get in there and remove the bullet,” I said.

“And I am sure that would cost a bundle,” Michael said. “My thinking is if you can’t do it, it is not going to get done.”

“We leave a lot of bullets right where they lay,” I said. “As long as they are not causing any problems, sometimes you do more damage trying to remove them than you do good. This isn’t the old west.”

“That sounds good to me,” Michael said. “Does she need any treatment?”

“I will clean up the wound and give her some antibiotics and some anti-inflammatory medication. Then we will just have to watch her closely for problems with her hind legs.”

We scrubbed the wound, and I flushed it with a saline and antibiotic solution. Then I gave an injection of antibiotics and Banamine. Banamine was not approved for use in the dog. Still, it was the only non-steroidal anti-inflammatory available at the time.

We sent Jasmine home with some pills and some Banamine paste.

“I want to see her the first of next week,” I said. “If you notice her unable to use her hind legs or any weakness there, you call right away.”

The next week, Jasmine’s wound was healed, and she acted like there was nothing wrong. There was no neurological disfunction to her hind legs.

“Looks like we are good to go,” I said as I patted Jasmine on the head. “Now you just have to figure out who did this.”

“We already know who did the shooting,” Michael said. “He is a neighbor and has complained about the dogs more than once. There is a good fence, and there is no way Jasmine was out of our property.”

“You know, you can talk with the Sheriff,” I said.

“Not much sense in that. It would be far more hassle than it is worth.”

Jasmine was in and out of the clinic a couple of times of the year for the next several years and displayed no problems. One could have easily forgotten her bullet wound had it not been noted on her records’ front page.

Michael called one morning, about three years after the gunshot injury.

“Jasmine has trouble walking this morning,” Michael said. “She was fine yesterday, but today she has a lot of trouble making her hind legs work.”

“Let’s bring her in and get a picture of that back.”

There we were again, struggling to lift a 200-pound dog onto the x-ray table. 

“I think this shows pretty well that we are going to have to go in and get that bullet. It hasn’t moved, but you can see the bullet is surrounded by this dark shadow on the film if you look close. That is the bone dissolved, probably from a chronic infection around the bullet. It is probably eroding into the spinal canal.”

“Do you think you can get it,” Michael asked?

“Three years have not changed much. There are better experience and equipment in Eugene. But with all that stuff around the bullet, it should be easy to remove if I can get down to it.”

“We have pretty much decided that we are not going to Eugene. So if it going to get done, you are the one who is going to do it. Marilyn and I have total trust in you. You just do your best, and we are fine with whatever the outcome happens to be.”

In a small veterinary clinic, a 200-pound dog makes everything more complicated. Anesthesia is difficult just from the size. The dog requires a larger endotracheal tube. The oxygen and gas consumption is high enough to be worrisome if the procedure ends up being a long one.

I carefully mapped the location of the bullet. With a midline incision on her back, I carefully moved the muscles away from the vertebrae. Once the vertebrae were exposed, some black fluid leaked from the hole occupied by the bullet. I was able to grasp the bullet with forceps and pull it from the hole. There was a slight sucking sound as the bullet was removed from the hole. Now there was this hole filled with black exudate. 

I carefully packed off the area with gauze sponges and started aspirating and flushing the material from the hole. Once it was cleaned, I carefully explored the area. The hole looked clean, and I could not see any evidence that there was any leakage into the spinal canal.

After a final flush with saline and antibiotics, I packed the area with an antibiotic powder and closed the incision.

We recovered Jasmine in a large kennel. Once she was awake, I opened the kennel door, and she jumped up, apparently cured. She was stable on her hind legs.

I gave an audible sigh of relief.

Jasmine went home and healed uneventfully, Returning to her duties on the farm. And, I trust, avoiding the far fence line. 

Photo by Shane Kell from Pexels

From the Archives, one year ago

https://docsmemoirs.com/2020/02/10/two-down-at-once/

The Ugly Rash

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I watched as Sandy was getting ready to change diapers on our young daughter. She was four months old and jabbering in complete sentences. Of course, nobody could understand her, but she seemed confident in what she was saying.

That was at least the way she was most of the time. When her diapers were wet, she howled. She was obviously uncomfortable. In reality, she was in pain.

We had been struggling with a diaper rash for the last couple of months. Sandy had a battery of products that filled the entire basket. The doctor had one suggestion after the other. And nothing changed things that much.

“How does it today,” I asked? 

“I think it is worse,” Sandy said. “There are sores now, not just a rash. These sores are deep, and they cover her whole bottom.”

I  looked over Sandy’s shoulder as she carefully cleaned the inflamed baby’s bottom. She patted it dry, and one could see a mild red rash across the entire bottom. Multiple deep erosions, the size of the eraser end of a pencil, superimposed on the inflammation.

“What do they have you using now,” I asked? “Did you ask about using a little Neosporin or something for infection?”

“No. Doctor Carlson was busy and behind schedule, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him much. But he didn’t seem to be very concerned.”

“I think you should let me take her to the next visit,” I said.

“You don’t have the time. You are in clinics all day. Besides, we are not going to treat our daughter like you would treat a cow.”

“Well, I am a ways from graduation, but I have already learned that if what you are doing is not working, it is time to do something else.”

“She goes back tomorrow to see Dr. Carlson,” Sandy said. “I will make sure he understands your frustration.”

“Tell him it is his last chance,” I said. “If he doesn’t solve the problem, the next choice will come from my bag of tricks.”

“I am not going to tell him that. You need to learn some respect,” Sandy said with a scowl on her face.

When I got home the next day, Sandy applied a new ointment to the baby’s bottom.

“Dr. Carlson says this one usually works like magic,” Sandy said. “He doesn’t want to use any Neosporin or antibiotics at this point.”

I looked at the tube, A&D Ointment. It didn’t look much different from the others, only cost a little more.

“I will give you a few days, and we will see what happens,” I said.

On Saturday morning, I was up and changed diapers so Sandy could sleep in a little. There was virtually no change in the now deep ulcerations on the baby’s bottom. I smeared on the A&D ointment and rocked her back to sleep. 

I slipped out the door and drove to the veterinary hospital on CSU’s campus. I signed out a large tin of Bag Balm.

When I got back to the apartment, everyone was still asleep. I placed the tin of Bag Balm on top of the pile of Sandy’s pharmaceuticals. Then I started cooking a breakfast of pancakes with some bacon. Everyone was up by the time the cooking was done.

Sandy didn’t notice the large green tin with red lettering until after breakfast when she changed diapers.

“Where did this come from,” she asked?

“I picked it up at the hospital pharmacy this morning while you guys were sleeping.”

“The veterinary hospital pharmacy? I think this new ointment from Dr. Carlson is working. She is not nearly as uncomfortable with wet diapers as she was before.”

“The sores are no better. In fact, I think they are deeper,” I said. “I gave this tube of snake oil 3 days. That is all I ask for the Bag Balm.”

“Okay, but I don’t like it. This is not a cow’s udder,” Sandy said.

“Skin is skin,” I said. “I think you will be amazed.”

Three days later, the superficial portion of the rash was entirely resolved, and the deep ulcers were well on their way to be healed. The baby was comfortable. No more howling when her diaper was wet. As foretold, Sandy was amazed.

“Why don’t the doctors use this stuff,” Sandy asked?

“We are fast becoming an urban society. What would a mother, who was 3 or 4 generations removed from the farm, say if a doctor handed her a tin of Bag Balm?”

“Well, Doctor Carlson is at least going to hear the story,” Sandy said. “It just might save some other baby from the misery of a bad diaper rash.”

At the end of two weeks, the baby’s bottom was udderly normal. Sandy was convinced that I might just know a couple of things. And Bag Balm has been in our medicine cabinet ever since that episode.

Photo by zelle duda on Unsplash.