Recently we've been doing a lot of emergency exploratory surgeries - that's right folks, it's the holidays to 'tis the season for dietary indiscretion! The rise in these incidents has resulted in several interesting stories that are just dying to be shared. There's even one sitting in the back row waving its hand and whispering desperately, "Pick me, pick me!" You all know what I'm talking about, so don't pretend I'm crazy. Moving on:
Whose Could Those Be?
It's a blustery Tuesday night after hours. The clinic has been closed for thirty minutes, the only sounds a consistent beeping of the EKG and occasional murmur for a surgical instrument. Upon the metal table, the coolness of the steel buffered by a heating pad sandwiched hastily between two holey potty pads, lay a young female golden retriever. At the moment, Dr. Husband is diligently working a piece of material from a small incision made in the dog's duodenum. Grasping the cloth firmly in both hands, the veterinarian holds aloft his prize.
Dr. Husband: It looks like a....rather large pair of ladies underwear.
Technician: Uh, Dr. Husband? *points to the surgery suite's window*
Dr. Husband: *spies the rather large lady glaring in and whispers* Is that the owner?
Technician: Yup.
Severe Reprimands
For those that know the owners of the clinic I work for, it is well known that Dr. Wife is difficult to upset. Her demeanor is consistently calm, cool, and collected. Even when angered, that is no true wrath except on extremely rare occasions. A great example of this happened upon a Friday night in midsummer. One of the golden retrievers they had recently spayed was brought in for severe vomiting and a lack of bowel movements. These two symptoms are consistent with a foreign body obstruction, and thus there we were an hour after closing. Dr. Husband has pulled what appears to be a collar from the bowels of his own silly dog, and asks for Dr. Wife to be called with the results of the still-in-progress surgery. This is the ensuing conversation:
Dr. Wife: Did we manage to find anything?
Me: Yeah, it looks like she ate part of a collar.
Dr. Wife: Oh...Bad dog. Ok, well, have a good night! *click*
I Like The Berber, But In The French Cut
There are many days at my job when I can't help but wonder how animals manage to not only eat some of the things we find in them, but also enjoy doing so. One case was that of a pitbull that ate a few square feet of Berber carpeting, the diagnosis and decision to surgitate being made when she started vomiting most of it back up. After severing most of it so she could swallow it back down and allow us to remove it, we hurriedly prepped the poor pup for surgery, her parents watching worriedly over our shoulders the entire time. The clinic has an open door policy, meaning our clients are allowed to see any room in the clinic they please and are even welcome to watch surgeries on their pets, which this dog's owners elected to do. Dr. Husband has just removed the last of the carpet and is doing a last cursory check for any remaining pieces of the obstruction.
Patient's Mom: Thank God all she ate was the carpet.
Dr. Husband: *pulls one more item from the dog's bowel and unravels it for all to see*
Patient's Dad: Look, honey. Your good thong!
I love my job.
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