This morning I was called to a farm by a gentleman who was certain that he had a cow suffering from a very rare condition causing it to be unable to rise. As I questioned him on the phone before going out, I was convinced that he did not have the problem he thought he had. There was a saying taught to me in Vet school that says "When you hear hoof beats don't look for a zebra, watch for the horses."
So as I got to the farm and examined the cow, while I had the condition he was worried about in the back of my mind, I was looking for something much more common. Which is what I believed that I'd found. I told the gentleman that I thought his cow was suffering from milk fever, and that after we ran a bottle of calcium to her that I thought she'd get up.
So I got the Calcium ready to administer, and pulled a halter out of the truck. I use the halter to tie the head over to a back foot, exposing the jugular vein and allowing me to administer the Calcium there. The farmer being eager to help, offers to tie the head back for me. Well, he didn't get it as tight as I'd have done if doing it myself but not wanting to redo it and hurt his pride, I decided to go with it. This didn't work so well as it gave the cow extra room to throw her head around and try to hit me. As a result I had to reset my needle several times to keep it in the vein.
As I'm almost done the gentleman asks me how long it usually takes for this to work. So I said "Usually, I'll run the Calcium to the cow, take the IV bell back to my truck and clean it up, then by the time I get back she'll get up for us." So we finished with the Calcium, I went back to the truck cleaned up things, and put my supplies away. When I got back to the cow, lo and behold I was wrong she wouldn't get up. The farmer again asks me about the rare condition he'd originally thought was the problem. I again assure him I don't think that's the problem, and that I think this cow has milk fever.
I then postulate that with her throwing her head around and my having to reset the needle several times that perhaps we hadn't gotten as much Calcium into her blood stream as I'd hoped to, and that with another partial bottle of Calcium we'll be able to get her up. So I go back to the truck get more Calcium, and my halter and return to the cow. I put the halter back on her head, and now attempt to roll her to the other side so I can use the fresh jugular vein on the other side of her neck. She fights this attempt and prefers to lay where she's at. So I try slapping her in the ribs in an attempt to get her to raise partially up, so that we can then push her on her other side with her supporting part of her weight instead of us fighting her full body weight. This time though she doesn't get partially up, she stands up like I thought she'd do the first time. Only now she's tired of us messing with her, and is upset with the two of us. After a few minutes of thought on how to get my halter off of her, and with her offering to charge us several times. We decide that she can keep the halter for a little while until she calms down enough to run her into a chute later and retrieve it with less risk of injury to ourselves.
So despite my second thoughts about my original diagnosis, and my losing my halter in the process we were able to get the cow to her feet again. And despite the fun it would have been to see a Zebra, the hoof beats once again turned out to be from a horse named Milk fever.
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