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DIARY OF A VET STUDENT

07:32am: “It’s dead, it’s dead, it’s dead,” I heard as few people gathered around a corpse when I walked down a street in Agbowo. I was sure it was not a “person’s corpse,” obviously, because of the people’s dangling level of remorse. Well, that’s what animals are facing in my country. As a promising vet (DVM in view, actually), I decided to take a brief look at the scenario. I have to admit, what prompted me to move closer to the scene was because I heard the animal was dead and of course, I love diagnosing cause of animal mortalities, mostly at first view (efiwe tinz). I majestically approached the scene. My unique dress code and the perfume I was wearing drove all the attention to me. To my surprise, and displeasure, I saw the goat’s heart pounding than normal, it was gasping for breath and paddling in distress. In addition, its stomach was remarkably bigger.

“It ate with other members of the herd just this morning,” someone exclaimed. Almost instantaneously, as if I was talking to my colleagues in large animal clinic, I shouted “this is bloat nau.” Everybody looked at me, wearing a surprising look and inherent sense of relief. “These people are funny sha, did they think a Messiah has arrived or a Merlin has walked in to perform all the abracadabra?” I thought as I gazed back at them.

Sensing that I was already in a tough position, I jejely changed the direction of my movement, just like a Mercedes Benz on the “reverse” gear mode. As I proceeded in the reverse direction, I muttered “may God help us all, the Lord is our shepherd, divine healing from heaven”

Well, my diary, I escaped.

As I was walking towards the school premises, thoughts of the pathology, aetiologies, clinical signs of bloat drove through my mind. I was already using my brain to dissect the poor goat to view the characteristic bloat line that would have formed in its oesophagus. In my subconscious, I started discussing, with myself, the stages of eructation and what had made the rumen swollen.

“Well, there was no trocar and canula,” I acclaimed as I was already feeling bad I could not help. “Could I have helped? But you could have done something! Ogbeni, what could you have done, what if there was already an irreversible cardiopulmonary compromise? So I should now be late for class abi? Idiot, will you have turned your long tie to trocar and canula...?” the self-battle went on.

But was it my fault? It may be, partly, but basically it’s not my fault. I have been hearing about bloat since my 200level but I have not seen a case or been given chance to experience a case being treated. I have passed so many theory exams on bloat but I have not practically attempted to handle any bloat case or any case related to it. I know so much about bloat but I have not been equipped to develop confidence to approach one. In addition, I can’t possibly give excuse that “Sir, I was treating a bloat case that’s why I’m late for your class,” I’ll be so dumped out of the class.

Although I have realized it isn’t totally my fault but I was still feeling guilty, I could have done something! I could have made a poor goat laugh, if they do anyway. “You can’t blame yourself yet, you don’t have DVM already,” another school of thought rained out of my depressed mouth.

Just like a born-again politician I reasoned, “something has to be done! The system has to change! There has to be enough money to carry out practical activities in various institutions of learning! Nigeria has to be better! Animal welfare has to be upheld!”

I was relieved, later, because I remembered hearing the owner of the goat saying she would immediately slaughter the goat, at least the pain will be alleviated; because I believed I could be part of positive change to the situation of veterinary training in Nigeria; because I believed I would have another chance one day; and of course, because I didn’t have DVM before that unfortunate incidence happened.

~Sane