When an inmate met a Thoroughbred, neither knew what the ending ahead was going to be ... 

The headline for this post refers to Mr. Miyagi's famous words in the old movie "Karate Kid," when he is teaching Daniel, a reluctant high school student, the path of karate:

Miyagi: Now, ready?

Daniel: Yeah, I guess so.

Miyagi: (sighs) Daniel-san, must talk.

(they both kneel)

Miyagi: Walk on road, hmm? Walk left side, safe. Walk right side, safe. Walk middle, sooner or later ...

(makes squish gesture)

Miyagi: get squish just like grape. Here, karate, same thing. Either you karate do "yes" or karate do "no." You karate do "guess so."

(makes squish gesture)

Miyagi: just like grape. Understand?

Daniel: Yeah, I understand.

Miyagi: Now, ready?

Daniel: Yeah, I'm ready.

So what does this have to do with equine veterinary medicine? I have always loved Mr. Miyagi’s phrase because it is about making choices. The picture above is of spinal cord surgery being performed on a Saddlebred yearling by Dr. J. Brett Woodie of Rood & Riddle Equine Hospital and Dr. Barrie Grant, a noted equine surgeon with a consulting practice in California. (Grant operated on Thoroughbred champion Seattle Slew, now deceased, in 2002 to fuse two arthritic joints in his neck.)

Years ago, Woodie had to decide whether to take a full baseball scholarship for college or instead pursue veterinary medicine. As you can see, he chose the latter. Dr. Travis Tull, an equine surgical resident at Rood & Riddle, says to be a surgeon, a person needs the confidence to “make a decision and follow through with it. No turning back.” Yes or no. No guess so.

I tried to find out from these equine surgeons and others what it feels like to hold a life in your hands, but they are not talkers, but doers. One surgeon said he doesn’t think about it that way; he doesn’t know why.  I imagine it is like the passage from a novel I am currently reading, Gilead, where a preacher thinking back over his life describes blessing an animal and “feeling its mysterious life and your own mysterious life at the same time.”

A writer-author friend with a popular blog says this blog isn't personal enough for him. In an attempt to take things to another level, I am offering my:

Observations on Equine Vets

I believe people drawn to a specific profession share similar traits. All the writers and editors I know are, for example, "noticers": observers who pick up on a thousand details of a situation in one encounter. As far as equine veterinarians, the ones I have met, both at Rood & Riddle and elsewhere out in the field,  are a little larger than life. They swoop in, fixing large animals in a single bound, whether it is a million-dollar mare with pleural pneumonia or a colt with a severely fractured bone. These vets are confident ("One time I was wrong, but it was a mistake."), funny ("I went into veterinary medicine over human because patients look better with their clothes off."), and pragmatic ("Look, you can always kill (euthanize) the horse. Let's see if we can save him first.") They can work all day and all night on a handful of peanuts and a Coke, and then go for a five-mile run after they punch out. Like regular humans, they like Monty Python, but unlike regular humans, they would much rather be outside doing something like bulldozing a field than inside on the couch watching John Cleese on TV. They are dog-crazy. They are sensitive to the nutritional needs of llamas. They crave the rush of a medical emergency and the calm of a morning on a farm. They want, need and have to work hard; it is part of their DNA. In their spare time, they do things like get certified to be professional dive instructors, extreme ski and play classical violin.

In a world where technology has made people more independent of the office and of co-workers (and more isolated), these vets work within a herd and like it that way. Techs ride all day with vets, providing crucial assistance. Externs (students) are often tagging along, learning and lending a hand. Vets consult with each other daily, gaining new knowledge and information. Like a band of horses in the wild, they are interdependent.  

Dr. Niklas Drumm, an intern, tends to a patient in the intensive care unit that was apparently kicked into a head by another horse. The colt lapsed into a coma after arriving at Rood & Riddle and never recovered, dying a few days after this photo was taken.