Veterinary Medicine

Let’s talk PDA’s…

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / 1 Comment

Dr Mc Blog

So back in 2003 I started to date this guy that had been an attorney, and was now doing the family law judging in town. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I had happily stereotyped lawyers a long time ago, and though I even knew a few I’d call friend and neighbor, still… you know what I mean? But this man was genuinely nice, we’d been introduced through mutual friends, and on this particular evening he had invited me to a very nice Italian restaurant north of town. We muddled through a few topics during the appetizer, and just as the soup and salad course arrived it became difficult to overlook an overly affectionate couple at the next table. I shook my head and looked away. My date re-focused my attention on him, saying with enthusiasm “we need to discuss that!” I shook my head again, dismayed. “Discuss what?”

“PDA’s”, he said.

I stared, riveted in place. My jaw literally dropped. Patent Ductus Arteriosus?!? He had my full attention while I marveled at the RANGE of this man. In seconds I was reliving my first case in vet school, which involved a mother goat and her kid. The youngster was born with a heart defect, Patent Ductus Arterioisus or PDA. The condition is not that uncommon in newborns of any species: an embryonic blood vessel that bypasses the lungs while circulating blood through the heart in the unborn fetus (no air to breathe inside the womb!), it is supposed to close up just before birth. If this particular blood vessel or duct doesn’t close completely, you can hear a swooshy abnormal heart sound, or murmur, in the newborn and most importantly, if the retained embryonic vessel is very large, it will continue to bypass the lungs and the baby may not receive enough oxygenated blood! This can be a life- threatening condition. Happily, most will close on their own within 2 weeks of birth. I still encounter this condition occasionally in young puppies and kittens, and have even had to refer tiny patients to cardiac surgeons for life saving surgery.

It is an intense situation when encountered- and here was my date, delving deep into such an intense subject on a first date!

“Wow,” I said, leaning forward, now fully engaged in this conversation, “What did you want to talk about, when have you encountered this?”

“Well,” he gestured, “on dates.”

“Dates? Your dates have had heart problems?”

“What?”

We were both now staring at each other- (remember, this is early days, when you still give the benefit of the doubt to each other- you know, he seems like he can walk and chew gum at the same time; she appears to be able to navigate a room without falling off her heels – you are charitable). But?!?

I waded in again. “Aren’t you talking about Patent Ductus Arteriosus? A heart murmur in newborns?”

The man who would become my husband glared back, “No, I’m talking about Public Displays of Affection!”

Silence again as we contemplated each other.

“Oh. I’ve never heard of that before.” I mumbled, ” What kind of public displays of affection did you have in mind?”

Never mind. The zest for the topic was gone, and we segued into other, safer conversation.

Christine McFadden, DVM
drmc@mcmenagerie.com

Are We Communicating, Doctor?

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

National Veterinary Technician Week

As a veterinarian I have been called upon to explore deeply into the human psyche. They never told me about this in vet school. My instructors cautioned against saying “oops” in the exam room, and pulling the ears too tightly on a pug-nosed bulging-eye breed of toy dog lest the eyeballs pop out (and yes, do you know it’s true? But I won’t tell about that one.). No, my teachers fell short in preparing me for the Late-Night-Emergency-Phone-Caller.

How would you respond to this call at quarter to eleven in the P.M., deep into REM sleep?

Veterinarian, “Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor? Meow, meow, meow. That’s what my kitty is saying. Meow, meow, meow…” (OK, I stopped counting. It went on for some time.) The voice on the telephone drew breath finally (one can only imagine her capacity under water), then queried, “Do you know what it is, Doctor?” I confess that I was at a diagnostic loss.

Then there was the time that an owner telephoned and wanted me to tell them if their pet was dead. The difficulty was that I had never seen their dog, and it was laying in their living room at home. Quoting a story from the “National Enquirer”, they were convinced that the pet was catatonic and might be buried alive. Convinced as they were, the question was surprisingly difficult to field. I’m ashamed to say that I finally told them to place the dog in a box and if it still hadn’t moved the next day or so I felt it would be okay to bury. Catatonic dogs were something else they didn’t discuss in vet school. It’s a subject I plan to take up with the dean.

Christine McFadden, DVM
DrMc@mcmenagerie.com

Freshman

/ Dr. Christine McFadden / Leave a comment

I remember so well my beginnings at Davis. Being accepted to veterinary school was a dream come true. Large parties were held in my honor. My parents bragged. I bragged. I found an apartment in Davis, bought some new clothes, and picked up a set of dishes from the local grocery store with a large quantity of stamps I’d saved (remember those thick china plates you could save up for with stamps from your purchases?). I got a chair from the Salvation Army at an incredible price because it leaned a little to one side when you reclined in it, and I took the formica kitchen table my parents had when they were starting out. Obviously I was ready for vet school. I rented a U-Haul truck and managed to cram everything in and still close the doors. Everything except a car.

My mother, bless her heart, had the perfect solution. She presented me with a bicycle. Now Davis, as you may know, considers itself the Bicycle Capitol of the world. However, I have not been an avid fan of this form of exercise since age 10. But a bicycle it was to be. My mother didn’t understand why I had to have a French-built ten speed when there was a perfectly good used bicycle next door, rescued baskets and all from the Wicked Witch of the West just as she was riding by with Toto (Surely you recall that bicycle?). I can’t remember if I cried or not when I saw it. I was to go forth and conquer the world on THAT? To start my illustrious career on a bicycle that had a seat broad enough for my bottom and a revolting little bell that went ding-ding? My mother made room for it in the U-Haul, shut the doors and waved me off. The woman had a heart of stone.

These meek beginnings did not prevent me from throwing myself into the wonders of veterinary school. One of my first classes was Anatomy. The class spanned most of the first year and went on for hours. When a client comments “But there are so many different animals to learn” I can only give a surly nod. Spend six months minutely dissecting all the differences, then see how you feel. (In veterinary medicine, as elsewhere, everyone has their own opinion. Two years later a teaching surgeon interrupted my gabble of muscle identification during an exploratory to mutter “you can name it and cut it or you can just cut it!” So much for six months of study).

I acquired a cat and then a dog during my first year. I was given a couch. I traded in my mothers bicycle for a ten speed of obscure origin that I rode in one gear anyway, and eventually got a car. It was a good year and a good introduction to a profession that has never disappointed me.

Christine McFadden, DVM
drmc@mcmenagerie.com