A Verklempt Moment

It’s funny the things that impress you when you’re young, or at least uninitiated.  I was a barn rat in middle school and high school and I especially loved to be at the stable when the veterinarian was there. Over the years, I watched veterinarians draw blood, administer vaccines, float teeth, and perform pregnancy checks. I watched them treat colicky foals and suture up lacerations. I marveled at the veterinarian’s calm and confident manner as she came and went from her well-supplied vet truck, discussed cases with my trainer, and wrote prescriptions in her neat handwriting. But, somehow, the skill that really awed me was my vet’s ability to firmly and easily stick her forefinger and thumb into the creases of my pony’s eyelids and hold that eye wide open for evaluation and treatment. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine being able to do that myself.

Cut to the present day, sometime around this past Thanksgiving. I am alone in the practice’s vet truck, driving back from a barn. It is dusk and the scene is beautiful, with muted greens and blues and purples spread across the fields and the sky. Christmas music plays on the radio. I am returning from a call to see a horse that had come in from the field with one of his eyes swollen shut. During the appointment, I had done a complete physical exam, then diagnosed a painful scratch on the horse’s eyeball and prescribed treatment.

Driving along, humming to the music, and savoring the view, I suddenly become teary-eyed as a strong current of emotion runs through me.  I think about my middle school self, watching the vet work on my pony, and I think about what I just did for my own equine patient: I firmly and easily stuck my forefinger and thumb into the creases of the horse’s eyelids and held that eye wide open for evaluation and treatment. Not only that – I then discussed my treatment plan with the owner, calmly and confidently climbed into my well-supplied vet truck, and drove away into the sunset.  As I drive, the emotions that are tugging at me are a mixture of nostalgia, contentment, and gratitude. I think about how lucky I am to have become the person that I once dreamed of being.

If only middle school me could see me now.

Dr. Katie Spillane