the foot at all?”
“No, only for diagnosis. Then you can forget about it”
“How long does it take to have an effect?”
“Just a few days. And I give you my word, the cow is sometimes much better within twenty-four hours.”
It sounded like a beautiful dream. “Okay,” I said. “Send some on. We’ll give it a try.”
He made a note on his pad, then looked up. “There’s just one thing. This drug is very irritant. You must be sure you don’t get it subcutaneous, or it could cause an abscess.”
As he walked out of the door, I wondered if this really meant the end of one of our most disagreeable tasks. I had already had occasion to be thankful for the beneficent M & B tablets. They had wrought some minor miracles in our practice. But I found it hard to believe that an intravenous injection could cure a necrotic condition of the foot.
When the stuff arrived, I had the same trouble convincing the farmers. “What are you doin’, injectin’ the neck? You should be puttin’ it into t’bloody foot.” Or, “Is that all you’re goin’ to do? Aren’t you goin’ to give me summat to put on t’foot?” These were typical remarks, and my answers were halting because I had the same reservations as the stock owners.
But oh, how magically everybody’s attitude changed because it was just as the young man said. Very often within a single day the beast was walking sound, the swelling had gone down, the pain had vanished. It was like witchcraft.
It was a giant step forward and I was at the height of my euphoria when I saw Robert Maxwell’s cow. The reddened swollen foot, the agonised hopping, the stinking discharge—it was all there.
The fact is that it was so bad that I was delighted; I had found that the worst cases, with the acute lameness and the interdigital tissues pouting from toe or heel, were the ones that recovered quickest.
“We’ll have some work on with this ’un,” the farmer grunted. He was in his late forties, a dynamic little man and one of the bright farmers of the district. He was always to the fore in farmers’ discussion groups, always eager to learn and teach.
“Not a bit of it, Mr. Maxwell,” I said airily. “There’s a new injection for this now. No foot dressing—that’s gone for good.”
“Well, that would be a blessin’, anyway. It’s savage amusement, hangin’ onto cows’ feet.” He bent over the leg and looked down. “Where exactly do ye inject this new stuff, then?”
“In the neck.”
“In the neck!”
I grinned. I never seemed to get tired of the reaction. “That’s right. Into the jugular vein.”
“Well, there’s summat new every day now.” Robert Maxwell shrugged and smiled, but he accepted it. The intelligent farmers like him were the ones who didn’t argue. It was always the thickheads who knew everything.
“Just hold the nose,” I said. “That’s right, pull the head a little way round. Fine.” I raised the jugular with my finger, and it stood out like a hosepipe as I slipped the needle into it. The M & B solution ran into the blood stream in about two minutes, and I pulled the needle out.
“Well, that’s it,” I said with a trace of smugness.
“Nothing else?”
“Not a thing. Forget about it. That cow will be sound in a few days.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Robert Maxwell looked at me with a half-smile. “You young fellers keep surprising me. I’ve been in farmin’ all me life, but you do things I’ve never dreamed of.”
I saw him at a farmers’ meeting about a week later.
“How’s that cow?” I asked.
“Just like you said. Sound as a bell o’ brass. That stuff shifts foul, all right, there’s no doubt about it; it’s like magic.”
I was just expanding when his expression changed. “But there’s a heck of a swelling on ’er neck.”
“You mean, where I injected her?”
“Yes.”
My happy feeling evaporated. I didn’t like the sound of that. My first thought was that I must have got some of the
“No, only for diagnosis. Then you can forget about it”
“How long does it take to have an effect?”
“Just a few days. And I give you my word, the cow is sometimes much better within twenty-four hours.”
It sounded like a beautiful dream. “Okay,” I said. “Send some on. We’ll give it a try.”
He made a note on his pad, then looked up. “There’s just one thing. This drug is very irritant. You must be sure you don’t get it subcutaneous, or it could cause an abscess.”
As he walked out of the door, I wondered if this really meant the end of one of our most disagreeable tasks. I had already had occasion to be thankful for the beneficent M & B tablets. They had wrought some minor miracles in our practice. But I found it hard to believe that an intravenous injection could cure a necrotic condition of the foot.
When the stuff arrived, I had the same trouble convincing the farmers. “What are you doin’, injectin’ the neck? You should be puttin’ it into t’bloody foot.” Or, “Is that all you’re goin’ to do? Aren’t you goin’ to give me summat to put on t’foot?” These were typical remarks, and my answers were halting because I had the same reservations as the stock owners.
But oh, how magically everybody’s attitude changed because it was just as the young man said. Very often within a single day the beast was walking sound, the swelling had gone down, the pain had vanished. It was like witchcraft.
It was a giant step forward and I was at the height of my euphoria when I saw Robert Maxwell’s cow. The reddened swollen foot, the agonised hopping, the stinking discharge—it was all there.
The fact is that it was so bad that I was delighted; I had found that the worst cases, with the acute lameness and the interdigital tissues pouting from toe or heel, were the ones that recovered quickest.
“We’ll have some work on with this ’un,” the farmer grunted. He was in his late forties, a dynamic little man and one of the bright farmers of the district. He was always to the fore in farmers’ discussion groups, always eager to learn and teach.
“Not a bit of it, Mr. Maxwell,” I said airily. “There’s a new injection for this now. No foot dressing—that’s gone for good.”
“Well, that would be a blessin’, anyway. It’s savage amusement, hangin’ onto cows’ feet.” He bent over the leg and looked down. “Where exactly do ye inject this new stuff, then?”
“In the neck.”
“In the neck!”
I grinned. I never seemed to get tired of the reaction. “That’s right. Into the jugular vein.”
“Well, there’s summat new every day now.” Robert Maxwell shrugged and smiled, but he accepted it. The intelligent farmers like him were the ones who didn’t argue. It was always the thickheads who knew everything.
“Just hold the nose,” I said. “That’s right, pull the head a little way round. Fine.” I raised the jugular with my finger, and it stood out like a hosepipe as I slipped the needle into it. The M & B solution ran into the blood stream in about two minutes, and I pulled the needle out.
“Well, that’s it,” I said with a trace of smugness.
“Nothing else?”
“Not a thing. Forget about it. That cow will be sound in a few days.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Robert Maxwell looked at me with a half-smile. “You young fellers keep surprising me. I’ve been in farmin’ all me life, but you do things I’ve never dreamed of.”
I saw him at a farmers’ meeting about a week later.
“How’s that cow?” I asked.
“Just like you said. Sound as a bell o’ brass. That stuff shifts foul, all right, there’s no doubt about it; it’s like magic.”
I was just expanding when his expression changed. “But there’s a heck of a swelling on ’er neck.”
“You mean, where I injected her?”
“Yes.”
My happy feeling evaporated. I didn’t like the sound of that. My first thought was that I must have got some of the
Similar Books
