Absurdly Alice

Here are some (slightly edited) conversations I've had at work in the past few days.

Backstory: One of my favorite vets called me up to get my opinion on a recent case he submitted last week. He knows now that our reports are strictly factual--we observed this, we measured that. But on the phone or in person, he is also aware that I will share any and all theories that my colleagues and I might have about the cause of death of the animals in his cases. That's what he called me to get--the crazy theories and speculations. 

Many of his clients are cow-calf operators in the southwest part of the state. It's a long haul for those producers to bring a cow or calf into the lab so he often does field necropsies and sends us what we call "a box of parts." After a fair bit of coaching from me, he sets the bar pretty high with his submissions, generally collecting diagnostic samples for most of his cases. He sends fresh tissues and feces and rumen contents knotted up in disposable obstetric sleeves, and cuts off pieces of affected tissues and drops them into a container of formalin. Pretty much every time he sends us a BOP, the container he uses is a large bottle that used to contain 500 tablets of cephalexin, an antibiotic that can be used in food animals. Since he submits cases almost weekly, well, that's a lot of cephalexin. 

Me: So, another fabulous field submission from Dr. M. I have to know, what's up with the cephalexin bottles? 

Dr. M: Well, it's a big bottle.

Me: I know, but why do you have so many empty ones? What do you do, give them out like M&Ms?

Dr. M: Yes, exactly, everyone that comes into the clinic gets some!

Me: Like Oprah! Cephalexin for you! And cephalexin for you too! Cephalexin for everybody!

This same vet submitted the headless, legless torso that I mentioned in my previous post. That came up in today's phone call too.

Me: Um, so why did you cut the head off? Why?

Dr. M: The calf wouldn't fit in the container and...

Me (interrupting): ...hahaha!

Dr. M: ...it wouldn't fit and the courier was getting upset, needed to leave...

Me: ...so you cut off the head but you so thoughtfully left the tail! You left us a handle!

(Me and Dr. M cackling like chickens)

Backstory: I'm on a committee at the lab that handles quality management issues. We are only a committee of three. We had an event that needed to be assigned to one of us. 

Committee leader: Which one of you will take this?

MBF and I look at each other. 

Me: Rock paper scissors?

MBF: Sure. But I'm terrible at this. My wife always wins.

Me: I'm glad to hear you and your wife have a healthy process for conflict resolution.

MBF: So, on 1-2-3-go?

Me: Yes.

MBF: 1-2-3...

And on "go", I throw out paper. 

MBF: No! After I say go!

Me: Oh. Okay.

MBF: 1-2-3-go...

And I throw rock as he throws scissors.

Me: I win!

Always setting a high bar for professionalism! 

Backstory: I was approached by our local colleagues in USDA APHIS about leading a wet lab for them in poultry necropsy and diagnostics. They wanted to be better prepared in case of a disease outbreak. Sure, I said, I can do that. But we need some birds, and waiting for a regular submission is not really a workable solution. I have developed a good relationship with a high level guy in one of the broiler breeder companies in Arkansas. He submits crazy cases that keep me on my toes. I decided to ask him to donate birds for the wet lab, either spent hens scheduled for slaughter or birds from a problem farm. He'd get a full report and diagnostics at no cost.

Me: I have an unusual request. blah blah wet lab blah blah USDA blah blah warm fuzzies all around. I only need about 10 live birds.

SL: Sure! But how will we get them to the lab? 

Me: I'll bet we can get one of those USDA folks to pick them up from your folks. And I almost forgot, they wanted some deceased birds too. Can we get a few of those? 

SL: How many dead ones do you want?

Me, reading the email asking me how many dead ones I wanted: This is a strange email conversation. I want five dead ones.

SL: It's always a strange email conversation in this business. Done!

My job challenges me in many ways. I would never have expected days that leave me feeling like Alice in Wonderland.