Sunday afternoon

Right, I had just curled up in bed last night and been reading the materials and methods chapter in my thesis when I get a call just before midnight. My help was needed on a farm 40 km from here for a downer cow so I got up and drove down there to get her a fix of calcium and other goodies. It was 2 o'clock when I finally got into bed again, and then I got a call for the same cow at 8 this morning. That's ok, I needed to get up early anyway to start studying, and it was a beautiful, albeit dark, morning. Just back from this call, another downer cow 40 km in the other direction needed a fix, so I set off. Just back from there, somebody calls with a colicky horse so I set off for there.

This was a mare stood in a fancy huge new stables (they definitely had room for a pony!) and approaching the place I noticed a steady stream of huuuuge american redneck Ford pickups heading up the drive. I sort of wondered if they were there for a show being held in the riding hall, but I really got a shock when I pulled up at the door, because there were 5 pickups and 8 large 4x4s (not that this is out of the ordinary on an Icelandic scale, we are the Texas of the north you see). Out of these cars came a load of middle-aged, well dressed and very clean people with chihuahuas (ok I'm making that bit up, but I'm sure there was at least one in every car, even if I didn't see them) and went into the stables.

I felt rather intimidated with having to infiltrate the group to find out who I was actually supposed to be talking to. However I swallowed my pride and entered in my dirty green overalls and stinky wellies armed with the oil pump and rectal glove and was met with some ponce who promptly announced "Yes, and today we have a horse with colic and here is the vet", making everyone give me an overenthused elevator-look. So I thought, "oh my god, now everybody is going to stand there while I stick my arm up this poor mare's bum and pump her full of oil!" Luckily they were there for some sort of introduction to the building itself and soon left me to deal with my patient. Turns out the guy helping me with the mare is an old friend of Sverrir, this is typically Icelandic. Not just that we often discover some sort of common connection when we meet new people but also that we actually dig until we do! When you here somebody is from Skagafjörður you start trying to connect them with everybody you know from Skagafjörður until you find the connection!

Well, the mare only had a slight impaction (constipation or hægðatregða to you non-vets!) so she got a shot of oil down her throat and some good stuff in her veins. Now, a raised pulse is one of the common colic diagnostic criteria to determine the severity of the case as it indicates the level of pain that the horse is in. Interestingly, in the Icelandic horse, this is of limited use because they are so damn hard that they hardly ever get a raised pulse even if they are in severe pain. Somehow I'm really proud of them! Honestly, this is very Icelandic and even if it isn't practical, I think it's cool.

Right, back to the books