I'm Bland, Not Seasoned...
And while we are on the subject (re: The Chronicles of Dr. Sexy Hair) I saw a very sick horse last week. He was a 14 year old stud Percheron cross who had been "rescued" from South Carolina or something like that. He had explosive diarrhea (sorry for being so graphic for those of you that don't deal with these things on a daily basis...but it really is critical to paint the appropriate picture), was in poor body condition and was going downhill quickly. I assessed his condition and put an IV catheter in and bolused fluids. I started him on antibiotics after doing a fecal flotation for parasites and obtaining a sample for culture. He improved, began eating and the diarrhea disappeared.
The owner, who lives in Mesquite, Texas (Yes, I said Texas. Why on earth a client from Mesquite, TX would travel all the way to northwest Arkansas for a veterinarian with hundreds of vets between is beyond my scope of imagination) called to check on the horse. Her son and daughter-in-law had brought the horse in. She was told that I was the doctor on the case and she not-so-politely asked to have a "seasoned veterinarian" look at the horse. Now, I must tell you I am far past being sensitive and getting my feelings hurt about these sorts of things as I have now heard about everything I can hear. She picked a day to call when all 4 of us associates were working and no owners. We are all under the age of 33. I guess some of us have been practicing for 4 or 5 years and some of us only a month. By seasoned I'm assuming she meant 20 years, but she wasn't going to get it on that day. The vet that had been practicing the longest of the four of us looked at the horse. He looked at my protocol and treatments, said I'd done more for the horse than he would have done and called the owner and told her such. I became bland and he became seasoned. I am bland. Bland, bland, bland. Of the all the things I ever thought I'd become, bland is not one of them.
The owner, who lives in Mesquite, Texas (Yes, I said Texas. Why on earth a client from Mesquite, TX would travel all the way to northwest Arkansas for a veterinarian with hundreds of vets between is beyond my scope of imagination) called to check on the horse. Her son and daughter-in-law had brought the horse in. She was told that I was the doctor on the case and she not-so-politely asked to have a "seasoned veterinarian" look at the horse. Now, I must tell you I am far past being sensitive and getting my feelings hurt about these sorts of things as I have now heard about everything I can hear. She picked a day to call when all 4 of us associates were working and no owners. We are all under the age of 33. I guess some of us have been practicing for 4 or 5 years and some of us only a month. By seasoned I'm assuming she meant 20 years, but she wasn't going to get it on that day. The vet that had been practicing the longest of the four of us looked at the horse. He looked at my protocol and treatments, said I'd done more for the horse than he would have done and called the owner and told her such. I became bland and he became seasoned. I am bland. Bland, bland, bland. Of the all the things I ever thought I'd become, bland is not one of them.
Comments
Post a Comment