Tag Archives: Norway

Operation

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I can’t write too much this week as on Thursday I was in hospital myself for an operation. This weeks featured photograph is of an incredibly laid-back and friendly cat called Loke after the Norwegian God (spelled Loki in English). Loke was Jan-Arne’s patient, but I spotted him through the doorway and couldn’t resist asking if I could take his picture. Typically enough, Jan-Arne found the time to tell me all about Loke’s history… as well as the cat’s.

I stopped on my way into work on Tuesday. I was early, and couldn’t resist taking some photographs of the beautiful sky.

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Sadly I didn’t manage to get a view of the sea, which was a brilliant blue turquoise under that rose sky. I am lucky to live in such a beautiful place, though I confess that the drive might be more daunting in winter when the snow comes. Thank goodness for spiked tyres.

I have been waiting almost a year for my operation. It seems there are long waiting lists in Norway for non-urgent things. I finally received a telephone call last week from the hospital offering me a time at short notice… and Dagny very kindly agreed to allow me to accept. She even signed her get-well message “Scary Boss Lady”. She seemed impressed too with my Norglish gas-flow chart. It’s all good.

I arrived home on Tuesday to a favin (Favyn? feel free to correct me, oh kind Norwegians) of wood for the stove.

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It’s all neatly stacked in the garage now, though I will have to call the chimney sweep before lighting up. The sweep comes around here automatically, but sadly I managed to miss him. Unlike British chimney sweeps, who use a big vacuum cleaner in your living room, Norwegian sweeps climb up on the roof and knock the soot down from the top. There’s normally a ladder on the roof of each house to aid this ascent. Then there’s a little door in the cellar where he can go in and scoop it all out. On Tuesday night, I received a text message from Charlie who was out for a cycle, to say that the aurora was good. I went out and jumped in my car to drive to the top of the hill, and found to my surprise that the snow poles had been set in place already. I guess they have to go up as soon as the temperature starts to drop, just in case. Sorry to any of my lovely Norwegian friends who are reading this. To me it still all seems quite novel and exciting. A bit like being permanently on holiday.

Anyway, I must go now. Thanks for reading.

A Little Bit Crudie?

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This week saw my return to work after three weeks off following my operation. I was delighted to be back. There is so much more humour at work than on the Jeremy Kyle Show. Having checked all the other rooms were stocked, I found myself in Magne’s, where as happens every now and then, he asked me a question about an English word he had come across.

‘What does crude mean?’ he asked.

I found myself wracking my brains over that one. It definitely depends on context. Crude oil and crude humour are rather different. Both imply that the things they describe are unrefined, but that word carries almost as many difficulties. We discussed crude oil (because that one was easy to explain) and of course, being me, I had also to try to explain crude humour. ‘A bit rude’ doesn’t really cover it. Finally I think I got through when I told him that farting jokes would be a good example.

Of course, none of this got us any further with translating his medical text. I asked him if he could clarify, but when he said ‘it said that the cells were crude or something,’ I was more confused than ever. Finally he found the text and it described the cell collection technique he had used as ‘a crude method for detecting oestrus’ so finally we were able to get to the bottom of it.  As ever though, Magne, when presented with a new word, and especially one attached to humour, was unable to drop the subject. He spent the rest of the morning asking me. ‘Is that a bit crudie?’ ‘Is this a bit crudie?’ Of course Scary Boss Lady then wanted to know what we were talking about. She asked me whether my humour in this blog was a bit crude, so I pointed out that mostly I wasn’t crude. I was just rude and mostly to her. She seemed happy with that.

Thursday morning’s computer check revealed that I had a patient coming in to see me at 9a.m. Lucy was to have her claws clipped under sedation. Her owner had asked to see me… the first time that has happened here. I was delighted, especially as Lucy is such a lovely dog.  It all went very well. My only failing was to forget to ask to photograph her before she went to sleep. She was just waking up when I took the photo at the top, but I think she’s gorgeous.

Despite being very happy to be back at work, there were some complications. I’m not supposed to lift anything for six weeks so I had to ask other people to do all my heavier tasks. Gerd carried the water distillation container, Marita carried the reagent box from the blood biochemistry analyser, Irene carried the big soap bottle and put away all the dog food. We have a new nurse as well who started on Monday, Jacqueline, and she helped too. She’s been in the practice before, and so she knows her way around. Really I was very well looked after. Despite all this, I found myself quite sore by lunchtime on Thursday. Realising this, Dagny sent me home. She keeps trying to pretend that she is only worried that I will take more time off, but really I can see through the disguise.  I was hugged by Marita and Jan-Arne too and Irene wished me ‘God bedring’ (Get well soon) before I left. Really it’s lovely to be back.

Ye Crowlin Ferlie

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This week’s picture is of Daisy, a West Highland White terrier who came in yesterday morning to be inseminated. I have seen cows inseminated before, but never a bitch, so I was interested to watch Magnificent Magne as he took a swab to check if Daisy was ready, and looked at the sperm under the microscope to see whether the sample was healthy. Apparently both were good enough. Daisy’s mum used to come in for Magne to inseminate her as well, so her owner told me, so obviously it’s a successful technique. Hopefully in 63 days or so, there will be some more puppies as beautiful as she is.

The microscope in the practice does get very well used. Far more so than any practice I worked at in Scotland. I was very interested when Jan-Arne called me over to look through the lens a little later to show me a blood-sucking louse. For some bizarre reason, when he showed Irene, she said ‘Awwwwwww’. Obviously her idea of cute differs slightly from mine.  I wonder whether this extends to her taste in men.

On Thursday, Jan-Arne came in in his pyjamas again. He actually admitted this time that they were his pyjamas. Obviously an eleven a.m. start is too early for him. I went into the changing room a few minutes after he had left and found his trousers decorating the floor and his boots haphazardly strewn . This amused me, so I took Irene to see, then asked him if he thought we were his servants. I threatened to take a photo, and he rushed to tidy them away. ‘Otherwise my mother will say I’m just the same at home, and Steinar (his partner) will as well,’ he groaned.

Still, he made up for it easily by bringing in the biggest Suksess Cake I’ve ever seen. For those of you not in Norway, this is a delicious cake with an almondy base and a sweet creamy yellow topping. It’s definitely my favourite Norsk cake. When I asked Jan-Arne what the success was that we were celebrating, he replied that the success was getting the calories out of his house. A few of them are undoubtedly now in mine. Still it was worth it. And just in case that wasn’t enough, at the meeting yesterday, everyone was handed an advent calendar. It seems that Scary Boss Lady really is into Christmas.  It all looks veldig gøy. I wonder how many dogs will enjoy the tree.

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Julebord

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Saturday night was the Julebord (Christmas Party). It was held at GamleVærket in Sandnes, and happily Charlie and I were able to book a room to stay overnight, which made for a very relaxing evening.

Per Egil serves Karl with a second glass of sparkling wine. From left to right - Wivek, Jacqueline, Magne, Jenny and Karl.
Per Egil serves Karl with a second glass of sparkling wine. From left to right – Wivek, Jacqueline, Magne, Jenny and Karl.

For me this was a very special event as it was my first Norwegian Julebord and though there were some similarities to those I have been to in Scotland there were also some major differences. I have a suspicion that  J.R.R. Tolkien must have been to a Norwegian Julebord just before writing the dwarf party scene in the Hobbit. Very early on, it became apparent that throughout proceedings, people would randomly burst into song for no obvious reason, prompting everyone else to join in. Each of these rousing choruses culminated in a toast, which certainly got the event going.

Unlike the often uninspiring turkey dinner that is generally served in the UK, there was a huge buffet of traditional Norwegian Christmas delicacies, including ribbe, pinnekjøtt and lutefisk. I have  mentioned ribbe before because we usually have it on Christmas day and it is a roasted pork joint with delicious crackling. Pinnejøtt is a kind of dried, salted lamb. But for me, the lutefisk the most interesting offering. For the uninitiated, lutefisk is white fish which has been slowly dissolved in caustic sodium hydroxide until it becomes gelatinous. Yum! Actually, this was my first experience of lutefisk, and when combined with chunks of bacon, mushy peas, and a delicious cream and mustard flavoured sauce, it was quite delicious. I would definitely have it again.

Jan-Arne goes in for a romantic nibble on Steinar's ear.
Jan-Arne goes in for a romantic nibble on Steinar’s ear.

Dagny’s husband Sondre had brought his guitar, and he was mostly in charge of the entertainment. Per Egil (Irene’s husband) was first up. He shared a very baaaaad sheep joke with us. Charlie also had to talk. Happily, he is almost always prepared for public speaking and was quickly ready with a joke.

Sondre really enjoyed Per Egil's humour.
Sondre really enjoyed Per Egil’s humour.

Jan-Arne got up at this point to take Steinar to work as he was due to work the night-shift. For some reason, their departure was marked with a song, to the tune of God Save the Queen, which roughly translated as “The old people are going home now”. I’m not sure her majesty would approve.

After a rousing rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, some musicians very kindly came in and gave us their Jærsk version of King of the Road. Quite appropriately, this was all about a farmer and his enormous tractor. I couldn’t follow all of it, but if it was completely accurate, I am sure there must have been a mention of slurry in there somewhere.

For some reason, at this point all the women whose dresses had been bought by their husbands had to stand up and give a fashion parade. Irene, Dagny, Marita and me all had to give our version of the catwalk strut. Irene was definitely the most assured.

Irene, effortlessly glamorous.
Irene, effortlessly beautiful.

Then it was the turn of the husbands who bought the dresses to talk about the occasion. When asked the theme he had considered when buying Irene’s outfit, Per Egil stated he had been going for the ‘F****** Sexy Look. I was a bit worried about Charlie at this point, because I had a suspicion that he very likely had no memory of buying my dress. It was a couple of years ago, and just after Christmas in the sales. Still, he managed to hide his amnesia well by saying he just felt it was important that I did not outdo him for glamour. He then stated that unfortunately, as it was me he had to contend with, he had failed in his objective. In Glasgow, I fear this might have raised a chorus of gagging noises, but happily for me, Norwegians are far more romantically inclined and instead everyone said ‘Awwww……’

 

Charlie McGurk, King of Glamour
Charlie McGurk, King of Glamour

Christmas is a time for the giving of gifts, and so now it was time for us all to play the klinikk version of pass the parcel. Instead of music, the package started with Magne, who had to pass it to “a lady beside him,” who then had to pass it to “the person who was sitting furthest away.” The first few directions were innocuous, but gradually the theme descended towards more personal things. The final few were decidedly risqué. I really want to know how Kari Anna knew that Dagny’s husband was “owner of the biggest dick,” though not perhaps so much as Dagny wondered…

Suspicious Boss Lady.
Suspicious Boss Lady.

Of course, no Christmas party would be complete without some dancing, and so at this point everyone had to dance around the mulberry bush, or as they would have it here, the enebærbusk. I suppose that given the fact that one of Norway’s most popular Christmas songs states that the celebrations can’t begin until the floor has been washed, that a dance involving ironing the clothes and cleaning the windows would also be still all the rage.

Per Egil showing off his moves.
Per Egil showing off his moves.

Happily Jan-Arne returned in time for dessert. I particularly enjoyed the multer (cloud berries) with cream. Jan-Arne managed to pull one of the tiny Christmas crackers that was attached to the kransekake, and to my surprise, there was actually a hat and a joke inside. Jan-Arne seemed to enjoy the rice porridge with raspberry sauce best. Fortunately he didn’t get called out to any calvings with his crown on.

Jan-Arne on call.
Jan-Arne on call.

The evening was drawing to a close now, and people started to depart, but a few stout-hearted and dedicated partygoers continued down into the main bar area downstairs where a band were playing.  Charlie, still swirling around in his kilt experienced some most enjoyable Norwegian sexism in action. Apparently not only was he accosted many times to be asked what he was wearing underneath, but he also had his bum felt a couple of times. I think it rounded off the evening well.

Anyway, for those who have reached this point, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. And for anyone who is interested, I will attach a few more photos below. Maybe some of them will be a little more flattering…

Per Egil and Charlie.
Per Egil and Charlie.
Me and Charlie
Me and Charlie
Kari Anna
Kari Anna
Jenny and Karl
Jenny and Karl
Jan-Arne
Jan-Arne
Steinar
Steinar
Wivek
Wivek
Jacqueline
Jacqueline
Kari Anna, Jacqueline and Per Egil singing.
Kari Anna, Jacqueline and Per Egil singing.
Marita and Renso
Marita and Renso
Gerd and Magne
Gerd and Magne
Jan-Arne goes crackers.
Jan-Arne goes crackers.
Dagny handing out a final gift of chocolate before leaving.
Dagny handing out a final gift of chocolate before leaving.
Who knows what's under there?
Who knows what’s under there?

Co-Operation

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Tuesday morning began well with Dagny and Magne operating to remove the most enormous piece of detached cartilage I have ever seen from a dogs shoulder joint. It went so smoothly that I had a good feeling about the remainder of the day. Reality reasserted itself when I went through and carefully laid the dog in the kennel… and stood up, bashing my head off the door of the left upper kennel. Instinctively recoiling, I ricocheted and thumped the other side of my head on the door of the other kennel. It was that kind of day.

Next came a mammary tumour, which I had seen on the computer. I confess I had expected a dog (I saw the operation, and didn’t check the species because mammary tumours in dogs are incredibly common, and in cats incredibly rare). Again the same pattern, the operation itself went very well. I was doing this one on Magne’s behalf because he was running slightly behind schedule. As I inserted the last stitch, stripped my gloves off and walked out of theatre to wash my hands, Mobility Magne rushed into the room, brandishing a cat cage at arms length.

‘Can you do something with this,’ he gasped, before disappearing. I confess, I was somewhat surprised, but as the most disgusting stink assailed me, I realised that the cat in question had deposited something utterly rank in the cage. Luckily I have a strong stomach, so without further ado, I cleaned up the mess. Being a vet really is a very glamorous job. I am reminded at such moments, of James Herriot, comparing his vocation with that of a small animal surgeon and humorously self-deprecating as usual. He mentions that after his operations, “the final scene would have been of Herriot the great surgeon swilling the floor with mop and bucket”. Well even though I now work in small-animal practice, it’s not so very different. ReMorseful Magne (see what I did there) did proffer a partial explanation later when he told me that the awful smell was literally making him gag.

In the afternoon, I had a cat spay booked in, but somewhat to my surprise, two turned up. The owners, after being told by Magne that I sutured very beautifully, had asked that I be allowed to spay their cat, but they seemed confused when they arrived and saw only me. They had been expecting Magne to supervise. Fortunately at this moment, the man himself turned up and smoothed everything over. The highlight of my afternoon however, was when Irene was attempting to shave up the second spay for me. Because most cats here are spayed midline, she needed to be reminded of the landmarks I use when deciding where to incise. She had the cat laid out on a chair and seemed to be paying close attention as she felt around for the bony protuberances of the hip and thighbone. Finally, she found what she thought felt right.

‘Am I in the right place?’ she asked. Rounding the corner of the table to take a look, I was somewhat surprised to see her eyes were close to shut as she concentrated fiercely on what she was feeling, and that one of her fingers was on the shoulder and the other somewhere on the neck.

‘Um… well it would be if the cat was the right way round.’ I commented with a giggle. Fully expecting her to join in with my hilarity at this very funny joke, I was amazed when she opened her eyes wide and looked mortified. She really hadn’t noticed.

‘This stays strictly between us.’ Red-faced, she tried to silence me, but unfortunately nothing so amusing ever stays private here and she did continue giggling at herself for at least half-an-hour, so I guess she must have seen the funny side. I fear she may try to get her revenge by commenting to mention the very loud fart I let out when I was bending over to clean the floor in room B last week, but of course everyone will know that couldn’t possibly be true. I could never be so crudie.

Thursday morning began with a Caesarean. Dagny and Magne again, working as a team. Magne did the first part of the operation while Dagny revived the puppies, and then Dagny took over to stitch up. There were four healthy puppies, which is always a lovely event. Dagny had only had two hours sleep, but was still working as efficiently as ever. I have a feeling that her amazing cheekbones can get her through almost anything because she looked as good as ever too. Fortunately after the operation, she was able to go home and get a couple of hours sleep before the lunchtime meeting.

This weeks picture shows Wivek operating. It doesn’t get much more glamorous than this.

Holiday

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Even after many years, I still greet Christmas and the New Year with a heightened sense of joy that I don’t have to work on either day. All round the world, many wonderful people in the emergency services give up those days to help others, and I send my good wishes to all my friends and colleagues who have been, and will be working over the holiday period this year. I expect when I return tomorrow, there may be a few Christmas related cases. It only takes a moment or two for a dog to eat something that he or she shouldn’t, and chocolate and raisins can be toxic for dogs, as well as the simple problem of too much turkey.

Last Tuesday, the day began as I walked through the prep-room on the way to change into my uniform.  Linus, (whose picture you can see at the top of the page) had been very ill and vomiting for a few days, and he was in a lot of pain and seemed utterly exhausted. His abdomen was so painful that Dagny had to sedate him to examine him properly, and when she did, she could feel something. Whatever it was, it wasn’t visible on the x-ray (some items show up clearly, but not all do) so the only way to help Linus was an exploratory operation. His owners were naturally very fearful. Linus is eleven years old and as the lump wasn’t visible on the x-rays, it could be anything from a peach-stone to a tumour.

As Dagny readied herself for surgery, I prepared Linus for the operation. The monitors attached, I was concerned to find that the oxygen levels in Linus’ blood were very low: not very surprising as I could see that his gums were pale, nothing like the fresh pink colour they are in a healthy dog. I turned the intravenous drip as fast as it would go, and kept the anaesthetic levels to a minimum as Dagny began to cut.

It didn’t take long for her to locate the lump, and it was immediately obvious that it was a foreign body and not a tumour. The gut was inflamed where whatever-it-was had already passed through. I opened up the set of special clamps and the  multiple packs of gauze I had ready and Dangy placed them around the gut to keep everything clean.

Pausing for a moment, she looked up and smiled. ‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘I’m betting on a kongle!’ Kongle is Norwegian for pine cone. Her attention firmly back on her work , she cut carefully into the segment of intestine and drew out what proved indeed to be a section of pine cone. Poor Linus. No wonder it had been so painful.

From that point in the operation, it was obvious that things were improving. As Linus’ guts began to function again and the fluids from the drip got to work, his oxygen levels climbed from sixty-two right up into the high nineties, which is where they should be when everything is functioning well.

‘Would you mind just quickly going and telling his owners that it wasn’t a tumour?’ Dagny asked, as with the hole in the gut closed, she began to stitch the abdominal muscles. ‘They were so worried.’  As everything was stable, I was delighted to run through and tell them. What better Christmas present could there possibly be for me and them?

There are one or two things I find difficult about being an assistant. It’s not so easy for me to telephone owners and ask for an update, as I might do with one of my own patients. But I hope that the signs that I saw during that operation boded well for Linus and that he and his owners have had a wonderful Christmas together.

Merry Christmas everybody.

 

Benedict who?

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New Year is almost here. I feel I have come a long way in 2014. Strange to think that less than a year ago, I drew up outside Tu Dyreklinikk and decided it was too daunting to walk in and ask if I could look around. I’m glad I changed my mind. That decision allowed me to meet some wonderful new friends, and has given me the opportunity to return to a life I hadn’t realised I was missing so much.

As I said in my last post, I was pleased that I was not working over Christmas. Jan-Arne was however, and somehow he managed to get himself on the front page of our local newspaper, JaerBladet after a Japanese Akita called Frøya accidentally got hold of a whole fruit and nut bar. Happily for Frøya’s owners, Jan-Arne was able to treat her, and by the next day, she was fine.

The picture at the top of the page is another of Jan-Arne’s patients. Lukas is a young Staffordshire Bull terrier with itchy skin. Feel better soon Lukas.

This week, I have only worked one day because New Year falls on a Thursday. I spent most of yesterday in theatre with Magne and Wivek. As usual I was on anaesthetic duty and it was an interesting day for me as Wivek was trying out a new form of pain relief called Recuvyra. Recuvyra is an opioid pain-killer, which is applied to the skin of a dog under its coat. It lasts for four days, so for operations which require analgesia for a few days, it is a good alternative to remaining in hospital, or coming back in for several days for injections. As always with new treatments, it will be interesting to hear from the clients how they got on. Yesterday’s patient, a sweet little Tibetan Spaniel with a displaced hip, seemed very stable throughout her anaesthetic and contented during the recovery period so I hope that when she went home, everything continued to go well. I remember when I started out in veterinary practice, there was much less consideration given to pain-relief, and very few pain-killers readily available. It’s one area where I feel the veterinary profession has made enormous leaps in progress and it is important for our patients that we keep up.

There were a few things that made me laugh. Obviously my Norwegian is still patchy, as when I asked Wivek how big the bladder dog was, (a lovely Schnauzer which was suffering from stones in her urine) she told me it was about the size of a grape. She was referring to the stones of course. No idea how I would go about anaesthetising a dog that weighed less than a box of matches.

For some reason, I was having difficulty with intravenous catheters, probably because Wivek was watching, and she always makes it look so simple. It’s much easier to find the vein with good lighting, so before I made my second attempt of the day (on the Schnauzer), I walked over and switched on the big overhead light. Except somehow, I got the wrong switch. I confess I was surprised when the light failed to come on, but not quite as surprised as Magne, who suddenly found himself plunged into darkness as he waited for us in the operating room. His face was a picture as he emerged.

The high point of the day though, was the moment when Wivek and I were discussing the Christmas period.

‘I went to see a film yesterday,’ she said, and gazed into the air for a moment. ‘I can’t remember the name of it though.’ She shrugged and then looked down to continue her suturing.

‘Not very memorable then,’ I suggested.

She frowned. ‘Good film, not a good name,’ she said. ‘It was about Alan Turing.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘The one with Benedict Cumberbatch?’

I have never seen such a blank look on anyone’s face. ‘Benedict who?’ she said. ‘I don’t know his name. The one who played Sherlock Holmes.’

I confess I was astonished. I thought that everyone in the universe knew who Benedict Cumberbatch was. Even if we had woken up the patient and asked her in dog language who it was that played Sherlock Holmes, she would probably have barked his name. So there you have it. If you want to consult Wivipedia, it’s probably better to stick to animals and Norwegian cookery. Whatever you do, don’t consult her about Tom Cruise. For her that would be Mission Impossible.

Anyway, to all of you who have supported me this year, thank you very much. I can hear fireworks outside already. By midnight, the sky will be bursting with light and colour. Happy Hogmanay, and I hope you have a wonderful time in 2015.

 

 

Luna and Lusi

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Dagny and Magne both seemed on good form on Tuesday morning. Our first patient was a still-youngish cat with an eye that was massively enlarged by a tumour. From an anaesthetic point of view, eye evisceration can be slightly complicated. As the eye is removed, the nerve at the back of the eye can cause changes in the heart-rate and breathing, so I was keen to ensure everything was stable and the monitors were all functioning well. The eye was so enlarged, that I wondered how easy it would be to complete the operation, but happily it all went very smoothly and the wound came together well.

Much later in the day, and another lump removal, this time from a dog’s leg. As happens sometime, Magne asked me whether I would like to suture the wound after he had removed the tumour. I know he doesn’t much like the stitching part of operations, and I rather enjoy it. There’s something very satisfying about bringing everything together and ensuring the end result is as aesthetically pleasing as possible. So as Jaqueline was available to monitor the anaesthetic, I told him he could go and get a cup of coffee and I would close up for him. As I was finishing, Magne came back into the room.

‘She’s very good,’ he said to Jaqueline, ‘No-one can stitch as elegantly as her.’ I was caught between delight and humour. As pleased as I was with the compliment, I had to laugh at the word elegant because I don’t think even my nearest and dearest would ever use that term. In fact, my mum once told me that I walk like a gorilla. Still, gorilla-steps or not, I did walk out of theatre feeling pretty good.

The weather in Jaeren recently has been wild: storm following storm. My drive to work takes me along the coast and there is little shelter, so on Thursday, as another gale flung hailstones horizontally at the window, I decided I would head to work early. In the event, the road was clear, and the wind, though gusty, didn’t affect my speed much and so I drew up in the car-park some twenty minutes before I was due to start. As I dashed through the rain, I was happily contemplating a cup of coffee with Magne before work began, but as I pushed the door open and stepped inside, I was greeted by an unpleasant odour. Working in a vet practice, you get to sample a number of different smells, most of them quite unsavoury. This one I identified as diarrhoea, though as I paced along the corridor, I was alarmed to see what appeared to be a trail of blood. Even more worryingly, on closer inspection, the bright red trail was in fact the faeces that I could smell.

Entering the prep-room, I found Lusi, a black Labrador retriever, panting on the floor. Her head was on her owner’s knee. Her eyes were frantic, her body stiff. I had seen Gerd as I came in, and rushed back along the corridor, to see whether she knew where Magne was. It only took a moment to ascertain that I was the only vet in the building. A few steps back and I was crouched on the floor with the little grouping. Wivek had made a tentative diagnosis yesterday of a prolapsed disc in the spine. Lusi was meant to go to Bergen this morning for an MRI, but had become very distressed, and the bloody diarrhoea was hers. I assessed her immediately for shock, but she seemed mostly to be distressed. She already had a catheter in her vein, and my first act was to grab some Vetergesic because she was so obviously in pain.

A drip next, and as she still seemed very unhappy, I decided to give some diazepam to try to relax her. I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that yesterday’s venous catheter (now attached to the drip) was fully functional and anyway, I wanted to take a baseline blood sample, so I felt it would be better to place a second catheter.  As she was still lying on the ground, and I didn’t want to move (and thus hurt her) unnecessarily, I ended up lying full length on the prep-room floor as I angled my head to try to get the best possible view. Not necessarily the best idea in a cream-coloured sweater. Fortunately the floor was, thanks to Gerd, now spotless again.

Diazepam (better known to the UK public as Valium) works partly as a sedative, but with spinal pain that is causing muscle spasm, it can really make a difference. As I injected, I could see her visibly begin to relax, and though she was obviously a bit disoriented, the panicky panting stopped, and her rigid muscles became pliant.  According to Gerd, Wivek was going to be in at nine, and any decisions regarding the next step would have to involve her. I waited with her for a few minutes, but as she now seemed much more stable, I was able to go and get changed.

What with the weather, and with all the distress, Lusi didn’t make it to Bergen yesterday, but spent the day at Tu with her owner. The plan was, that if she continued to be stable overnight, she would travel up today. I’ll try to provide an update when I know more.

Working with Lusi reminded me of one of the reasons I love being a vet. There are few things more satisfying than knowing that you have helped an animal that is in pain. It often seemed to me, when working in the emergency clinic, that giving intravenous pain-killers to dogs in distress gave such immediate relief that they were genuinely grateful afterwards. Often in general practice, our patients become frightened of us because they associate the vets with injections and pain, and to see the opposite effect in action, was always a happy event.

I still don’t think Lusi liked being at the vets all day, but I very much hope that she goes on to make a full recovery.

Last, but not least, today’s photograph is Luna, a Tibetan Spaniel that came in this week to see Marita. Isn’t she lovely! Have a good week.

Julebyen – Egersund Christmas Market

Life in Norway, Requests, , ,

With the heavy snowfall late last week, it seemed like a good time for a Christmas pilgrimage. And so we made our way, by bus and train to Egersund, to join the Egersund monks in their annual Gløg Festival.

 

This is where the bus dropped us off by the harbour. It was truly a beautiful day, though perhaps not the best weather for sitting down to admire the scenery.

Then we walked across into the market.

The Christmas tree was the first thing that caught the eye. It was beautifully decorated in red and gold, then nature had added the best touch of all with snow that sparkled in the winter sunshine. The stall is selling ris grøt – a kind of rice pudding eaten with cinnamon and sugar and sometimes butter or cream.

We paid our first visit to the gløg shrine at this point. Gløg, for the uninitiated, is Norway’s version of mulled wine. It’s sweeter than the more familiar beverage, and improved with the addition of nuts and raisins. All in all, it’s very welcome on a cold day in December.There’s an alcohol free version for children and anyone driving home. The bottles at the front of the picture are of Norway’s other traditional Christmas drink, Julebrus.

There were lots of different stalls, selling everything from miniature Christmas gardens to Dutch cheese.

 

There were traditional toys.

All kinds of sweets.

 

And more decorations.

We went for a wander through the main shopping street where they were setting up trees for a tree decoration competition

Still too cold to sit down, but in the picture, the tree is garnished with a bundle of straw. I’ve seen many of these in the city, often tied with attractive red ribbons. This tradition began as a way to provide food for birds.

But we were drawn back by the singing monks.

Who kindly replenished the huge copper containing the gløg so we could have another cup.

Some Thai street food followed, then back for another walk round the market as the sun sank lower.

We returned to the harbour to catch the bus back to the station. The sky was beginning to turn pink, but the fjord was still bright with the reflected light.

It was dark by the time we got off the train and tramped through the snow towards home…

…where we lit the second of our advent candles: a peaceful end to a beautiful day.