Horse Fits

Dr. Arthur Paul came to Escondido, California in San Diego County in 1917. It was now 1940. After twenty-three years of busy practice he wanted to retire. I was eager to establish my own veterinary practice. My wife Eva and I learned that Dr. Paul would cooperate with a young graduate veterinarian in getting established provided the qualified veterinarian would buy his house and four residential lots he had for sale. We were hesitant with this situation because we had both recently graduated from college. We had very limited finances and each of us had unpaid college debts. We wondered if we would have enough veterinary work to provide us with living expenses and real estate payments. We took the chance. We plunged into more indebtedness and responsible work.

Five months had now elapsed since we embarked on our journey of lifetime work. All doubt had been removed from not having enough clients. In fact we found we were both overworked.

It was a beautiful Spring day in March. I had already treated a horse with multiple barbed wire cuts on a farm fifteen miles from my office. My day's work was just starting! I did not have time to get out of my service vehicle. Eva was excited. She met me outside of our office.

"It's another emergency," Eva said. "They want you at Ralph's Ranch immediately. Several horses are having strange fits! You better hurry. It sounds urgent. Harry the stable groom will be waiting at the farm entrance gate," she explained.

"Tell them I'm on my way," I ordered.

During the trip to Ralph's Ranch I had time to ponder. I heard myself question out loud, "What? Horses having fits? That's a new wrinkle? Maybe it's nose flies. Those insects send horses awry." I remembered when I was very young our family pet horse Ole Kate was attacked. We could hear her whinny. She ran in circles. Ole Kate was swiftly swinging her head from right to left. Her loud snorts were unpleasant to hear. A mosquito net treated with fly repellent attached to her halter solved that problem. I wondered if a practical joke was being pulled on me. I was eager make a success of my new adventure. My future and my wife's future depended on our satisfied clients. We had risked our assets and goals! Surely it's not a prank I mused. Hopefully colic or horse flies set off the alarm. I realized that a correct diagnosis was the first step in successful treatment. I would concentrate on that fact I promised myself while dealing with this current emergency.

Harry opened the farm entrance gate. "Sure glad to see you Doc!" Harry was smiling a friendly smile as he crawled in beside me and began to explain. We have a big mess at the barn. Ben is with the horses." "What's happening?" I asked. "Ben McClarin our field operations man drove our pickup truck laden with sacks of wheat to the nearby grain field. He parked the truck loaded with poisoned wheat intended for planting and rodent control. Ben went to the other side of the field with the tractor preparing the soil for planting. The noise of the tractor hushed the sounds of the horses which he assumed were corralled at the stables. Ben was surprised and startled when he glanced at the truck now surrounded by our five fine show horses. He knew the wheat had been treated with poison to kill gophers and ground squirrels in the field. The horse beat Ben to the tasty golden wheat kernels. This Irishman's anger was loosened on our new helper who had accidentally left the corral gate open allowing the animals entrance into the grain fields and poison-treated grain. Small clusters of grain had spilled into the truck bed on which they were feeding," said Harry.

When Harry and I arrived at the barn with the new employee's help, Ben managed to have the horses back in their stable boxes. Snorts and excited whinnies came from the frightened animals. "Harry, get over here! Help me!" Ben shouted. "Keep 'em moving and on their feet! My old uncle always said, 'Keep horses with colic up and walking.'" I knew this was a common practice for treating colic of farm horses by untrained farmers. This was a different set of symptoms. A different approach had to be selected. Proper diagnosis, quick treatment, and team work was our only hope to save these valuable animals! With a calm, whispering voice I announced that poisoned animals can be dangerous. They have no control over their actions. We did not want anyone to get injured. They had to be handled with gentleness. I told everyone to stay away from the horse's feet! Heart attacks and suffocation can occur. They may stiffen their whole bodies at the slightest excitement.

"Oops, Ole Paint fell! She's dead," Ben yelled. All four legs were rigid as tree limbs. Her neck was stiffened. The stricken animal appeared as if rigor mortis had enveloped her beautiful body.

"No! Good news! She is still breathing!'" I shouted. "Typical strychnine poisoning symptoms," I announced. Hurriedly I filled my syringe with Nembutal from my first shipment of this new long-acting barbiturate sedative. This will produce quick relaxation. This was heroic treatment, perhaps experimental but it is important to have good control. "That's right Harry ,just steady her head," I directed. "No patting, steady now. The needle is in her jugular vein. All is well!"

"Damn, she is snoring already," Ben snorted. "That stuff sure is powerful. Is she dead, Doc? Did you kill her with that concoction, Doc?" Ben questioned. "I wish an older doctor was here to handle this mess." he said. "No, no, Ben!" I replied. "It's wonderful! Her relaxed body is proof that all the Nembutal went into her bloodstream. She will remain relaxed unless she ate too much of the poisoned grain. That is important. Relaxation is a must." "Why are you so sure it's strychnine poison?" Ben questioned.

"Because I know the typical symptoms," I replied.

I asked Harry to bring my medical kit to within my reach. I removed a green endotracheal tube and placed it into Ole Paint's trachea to avoid collapse of her windpipe. A five foot long red rubber stomach tube was directed into the animal's stomach through her nostril. This tube was attached to the stomach pump which had two way action. Water could be pumped in, then by reverse action the watery food contents were pumped out. This operation removed the poisoned grain and other food. Activity of the poison was greatly reduced. Relaxation of the muscles lasted longer. This allowed slow absorption of the toxic substance and eventual recovery to normal activity.

Each of the horses were in their separate stalls. Shortly after Ole Paint had been made comfortable, Ole Snip, the black beauty gelding in his adjacent stall had a delayed reaction to the poisoning. He assumed the same wooden saw horse stance when he fell on his side. This American Saddle Breed gelding show horse was treated with the same routine and care that had been used for Ole Paint. The three Tennessee Walkers did not require extensive care. Ben said he chased them away before they broke open a sack of the treated grain. They had only nibbled a few loose wheat kernels. These three horses were given small intravenous doses of Nembutal since they were nervous but not in a convulsive state of danger.

Throughout these stressful periods of treatment Ben had an opinion to offer which was always counter to my procedures. He seemed to enjoy needling me with his tormenting remarks. However, I found no merit or time for arguing with him. The devotion to Ben's deceased Uncle Mac smacked of reverence. A strange mannerism for an outspoken Irishman fifty-five years old. Perhaps this was his way of throwing around his 180 pounds of body weight.

Expensive show horses recumbent on their sides present bleak pictures. Guarded prognosis for recovery was all the positive encouragement I had to offer. Harry had been quick and cooperative in following my directions. This attitude was directly opposite to Ben's tantalizing quips. Harry placed bales of straw alongside of the relaxed equines. A bed of loose bedding straw was scattered around each animal. Blankets kept their relaxed bodies warm.

Ben watched the energetic groom swiftly move his 150 pound body carefully to make the stricken animals comfortable.

Again Ben advised, "Me Ole Uncle Mac always said, "Don't fence 'em in. Give 'em plenty room to kick up their heels."

"Exercise is a great muscle builder but disoriented animals need plenty of tender loving care to avoid bodily injury while recovering," I responded. "Uncontrollable muscle spasms and senseless loss of control requires time for normal functions to be reestablished," I explained.

The two strong rubber tubes remained intubated to allow complete breathing recovery. These two valuable parade animals were resting peacefully. In two to three hours the breathing aids could be removed. As a safety measure I instructed Harry on safe procedure for removal of the endotracheal tubes if the horses showed signs of chewing. I promised that I would return for a final check up and removal of the airway tubing after I had completed my next service call in nearby Poway.

Upon my return check up call, both patients were alert and had positioned themselves to rest on their chests. No trembling or muscle spasms occurred when the prize equines were handled during the removal of the airway tubes, the final steps of these tension-filled operations. "These animals will be on their feet shortly," I assured Ben.

"Then they can sleep standing up naturally," Ben added. "Send your bill to our Los Angeles office Doc."

I was relieved when my busy day ended. I was happy that it had been a successful and rewarding day.

© Copyright 1997 Harold Wm. Wood

This page is maintained by Dr. Wood's son, Harold W. Wood, Jr., of Visalia, California.
My E-mail address is: harold@planetaryexploration.net

Return to Doc Wood's Stories of a Lifetime Home Page