Читать книгу Tales from a Young Vet: Mad cows, crazy kittens, and all creatures big and small - Jo Hardy, Jo Hardy - Страница 9

‘So, Jo, what do you think is wrong with its toes?’

I peered at the little creature in front of me.

‘Er, they seem to be necrotic?’

‘Yes.’ Nadene was standing on the other side of the table, looking at me expectantly.

‘And why would its toes be in this state?’

I kept peering, as though the answer might suddenly leap out at me. Why would a little leopard gecko, no more than eight inches long, have blackened toes that appeared to be dying?

It was a striking little creature – yellowish skin with black spots (hence the leopard part), L-shaped legs sticking out at right angles, its toes splayed out like little hands. Three toes on one of its front feet were blackened, and a toe on the other front foot was missing. It was staring at me as if it, too, were waiting for an answer.

Then I noticed little bits of dried skin on its feet. My brother Ross had once had a leopard gecko, and I remembered how we would watch it in fascination as it shed its skin like a worn-out stocking, eating it as it peeled away.

‘It looks as though it hasn’t completely shed its skin. Could the remnant left behind be causing the blood flow to restrict in the toes?’

Nadene smiled. ‘I think you’re right. It’s not an easy one, this, but that looks like the most obvious answer. Let’s tell the owner to get baby oil and cotton buds and try to get those last remnants of skin off. That should at least save the remaining toes.’

I was in my first week at the Beaumont Sainsbury Animal Hospital, a clinic run by the Royal Veterinary College and situated next door to their Camden campus. Beaumont was a first-opinion practice for small animals, but it also had the only specialist exotics centre in central London – hence the steady stream of reptiles, birds, fish, and invertebrates such as snails and worms arriving though its doors. It’s amazing what people decide to keep as pets.

Along with the others in my rotation group I was at Beaumont to practise consultations, straightforward treatments like vaccinations and puppy advice, basic surgery like neutering and dental care, and a little bit of exotics work alongside Nadene, an expert in her field.

Beaumont is a busy clinic based in a large four-storey building. It offers discounted rates to pet owners because there are a lot of vet students and trainee veterinary nurses working there. A constant stream of people and pets comes through the door. Since returning from South Africa my feet hadn’t touched the ground and, as much as I missed Jacques, I’d barely had time to talk to him.

We worked early or late shifts, starting at eight or eleven in the morning. All the arrivals at Beaumont were logged on to the computer and we would each take the next case on the list as we became free. After going through a thorough history of the animal with its owner, asking all about the problem and doing a physical examination, we had to report back to the clinician in charge with our findings and recommendations. They would then return with us to see the patient, plus owner, and either opt for tests or prescribe medication.

These were our first full solo consultations without supervision and the vets in charge expected us to be very thorough indeed. We couldn’t just ask, ‘When was your dog last treated for fleas?’ We had to ask what product was used and how often. This could mean quite lengthy consultations, as we worked our way through a seemingly endless list of questions, but it did teach us good practice and ensure that we didn’t miss any vital information.

I enjoyed consultations because I never knew what, or who, was coming through the door. I loved chatting to the clients, and enjoyed meeting the variety of people and animals that arrived. As long as I started with ‘What seems to be the problem?’ the rest would flow and I felt my confidence growing with every case.

‘Mr Grey with Ruby?’ I announced, looking around the crowded waiting room.

‘Here, over here.’ Mr Grey, looking very flustered, shot out of his seat and hastened towards me, dragging a reluctant greyhound behind him.

‘Oh, I am relieved to see you. I’ve been so worried about poor Ruby, she’s in a terrible state,’ he gasped. ‘She’s our angel, you know. We just dote on her and we can’t bear to see her suffer. She gets the best of everything, so I just can’t imagine what’s gone wrong. And the worst part is that poor Ruby is so embarrassed about it.’

As I ushered him through to a consulting room, aware that the remaining owners in the waiting room were transfixed, Mr Grey talked non-stop and with such speed that it was hard to keep up. Waving his arms in the air and gesticulating theatrically, he threw himself into the chair and bemoaned poor Ruby’s condition and her mortification.