We ended up chatting after church one Sunday with long-time friends whom we had not connected with in a while. As we caught up with each other, my husband was talking to the guy and I was speaking with my girlfriend.
“I am learning about retirement ins and outs from our human resources department. There’s so much to try to figure out and I don’t understand half of it! That’s why I’m asking questions!” She sounded apologetic.
“Oh, I’m always doing that!” I came back with. “Whenever I don’t know something, I pick the brain of one who does. I always figure, we do cows and that person does their thing. We’re each good at something!”
She laughed, agreeing and we went on to discuss our kids and extended families.
Later, I thought about our conversation, and realized it was so true. Whenever I have a question regarding something I’m not sure of, I don’t hesitate to ask. As I’m getting older, I realize I do that more and more often.
Throughout the years, whenever our vet comes out to the farm, we’ve watched him perform procedures on our cows and have picked his brain more than once. Therefore, we have learned we can do a number of things on our own. We have a responsibility to maintain good herd health. We know our cows, and especially my husband is in tune to when there’s something amiss. More and more, I’ve also become receptive to how they’re doing.
We have a jet-black Swiss Holstein that’s on the end of the barn aisle. We appropriately call her “Swiss.” I really like this cow. She’s laid back and because she’s on the end I must pass by her often. I always make sure she sees me, though, because if they get startled, some cows instantly react by kicking out. She’s not mean, and if she ever did kick, it would be because I didn’t let her know I was there.
Swiss had been having some issues. Because we did not really know what was wrong, we got the vet out and he diagnosed her with ketosis, using a simple diagnostic tool of testing her urine. If the powder mixed with her urine turns purple, she has ketosis. The vet gave her dextrose intravenously with instructions to administer it by drenching, which means fluids down her throat.
One day later on, she still didn’t seem right to me. I felt her ears and they felt a bit cold. Reaching over to the one next to her, that cow’s ears were warm, almost hot. Also, Swiss was standing with her back feet in the gutter, which was unusual. Mentioning it all to my husband, he suggested we give her another dose of dextrose intravenously and told me to set it up while he continued to feed cows.
Running for supplies, I brought back a bottle of dextrose, a rubber hose, a needle and an antiseptic wipe. My husband popped the top off the bottle and fastened the rubber hose onto it, handing it to me to hold. After placing a Kan’t Kick across Swiss’s hips to prevent her from jostling around, he bent down to wipe an area clean with the antiseptic cloth. He then quickly jabbed the needle into her and apparently immediately found the vein.
Hastily I handed him the rubber hose and he attached it to the needle. I lifted the bottle upside down and immediately felt the gurgle as the liquid slowly seeped into the cow. My husband left to finish feeding, and I was left there tending to Swiss. Reaching over to her, I scratched her massive forehead, ruffling up the curly black hair there. She has a swirly cowlick (yes, really) on top of her forehead. Leaning into me a little, she seemed to understand that I was there to help her.
Slowly, the medicine trickled into her. Waiting until every drop was administered, with a quick motion I pulled out the needle by the base and massaged the area so it would not bleed out. Cleaning all supplies, I put them aside and going back to Swiss, took the Kan’t Kick off. Patting her to reassure her that was it, we were leaving her alone now, I left the barn.
For several days afterward, we drenched Swiss, which means we poured a plastic bottle of dextrose down her throat twice a day. My husband uses a nose pinchers so he can hold her head up and I pour the med in as quickly as possible. We get it in her within 10 seconds. Releasing her, she shakes her head like, “Really?” and we are done. It helped. She is eating, her ears are warm, and her bright and shiny eyes are back.
There’s no better feeling than to bring a sick cow back to good health. I guess you could say, we do cows!
(“In this way we are like the various parts of a human body. Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, not the other way around. The body we’re talking about it Christ’s body of chosen people. Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of His body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t.” Romans 12:4-6, The Message Bible)
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