Alerted by the collar, saved by the vet

Now a committed (if initially apprehensive) follower of the wearable technology faith, looking down at my phone screen to see cow 429’s rumination graph made me deeply concerned. She’d only just gone off her milk that morning, but due to her collar reporting a ‘health alert’ previously, she was drafted out and patiently awaiting examination. Conscientiously, my progressive client had seen the sudden cessation of rumination and decided to involve me rather than trying to manage her with what medications were available on-farm. This would prove to be yet another correct decision by a detail focused, caring farmer.

I slowly examined her, noticing that she had become a little hollow but still had some rumen fill. Her heart rate had increased and she was breathing a little quickly, but was stable. She didn’t have some of the tell-tale signs of other diseases like wire ingestion or a ruptured ulcer and the colour around her eye was still pink. Rectal examination revealed a lower gastrointestinal tract empty of faeces, pricking my concern for some abdominal catastrophe. Picking my trusty stethoscope out of my toolbox felt remarkably archaic compared to the screeds of electronic data overlaid on colourful graphs I’d seen just moments before on my phone. I listened to her rumen and my new found faith was tested. I could still hear the quiet sounds of the rumen swishing and mixing underneath the bell of the stethoscope, contradicting my phone. I continued on to find a tell-tale ping on the right side of her flank, over her ribs. Relief washed over me knowing that my old stethoscope and the country cow doctor in his overalls are not superfluous –yet. Tech is fantastic, but they couldn’t tell me that the cause of the slump in activity was due to trapped gas in an organ just under my fingers flicking on the cow’s side. As a bit of a nerd, I smiled at the noise – rather like a beach ball being bounced on concrete. I gently kneaded the cow’s abdomen, simultaneously listening to the tinkling sounds as the fluid sloshed against the walls of the gas filled organ beneath. A twisted gut is normally a bit of a death sentence. These cows are usually identified late, with a racing heart, and we turn up to the cow down and death rapidly approaching. Normally, surgery is pointless.

“A twisted gut is normally a bit of a death sentence. These cows are usually identified late, with a racing heart, and we turn up to the cow down and death rapidly approaching.” – Rory Dean, Sea View Veterinary Services, Northland   

A brief discussion was held cow side on the practicalities and costs of surgery. She’d been picked up early thanks to careful attention to the tech, she hadn’t decompensated too much at all and the farmer was committed to nursing sick cows properly. Before I knew it, I was lathering her clipped side with disinfectant, preparing my kit and injecting her with pain relief. Moments later, I knew the needles had been in the right spot as she stood unflinchingly, my scalpel cutting through her muscle layers. I had to enter her abdomen carefully as the bloated organ beneath was looming just below the last layer. And there it was – as if awaiting intervention, the caecum was occupying much of the right side of her abdomen. I extracted this appendage to her intestines from her abdomen and made a quick stab incision. Several litres of foul-smelling green-brown liquid and half-digested grass splashed over the concrete and the surgeon. Problem solved. In no time I was sewing her up and following all the superstitions that have aided my surgery career thus far, feeling ever so slightly hopeful. Surgery completed, she was treated with some antibiotics for any abdominal contamination, some oral fluids to balance the electrolyte disturbances of such a process and naturally I made sure to touch wood as I left the shed.

Instead of bothering my client incessantly over the next few days for updates, I found myself looking at my phone to check on the status of my patient as frequently and with such enthusiasm as if waiting for a message from a sweetheart. Once I was pleased that she appeared to be making a full recovery, I was able to call my client with a degree of confidence and prior knowledge. She had returned to milk and was doing just fine post-operatively. A great success aided by wearable technology but most of all, careful stockmanship.