VN October 2021

Vetnews | October 2021 39 Story with any other gift, is to put out your hand and receive it. It is so simple that many just can’t accept that that is all there is to it. As the days flowed into weeks after this, I was increasingly aware that there was now a third Party in my consulting room with me. A Party of whom I alone was aware of Who’s presence was unseen by my clients. One who stood by me in a mystical way which was giving my life and service a new dimension. Often, I was not aware at the moment of His presence and would only realize, on reflection that He had contributed in one or another way to my diagnosis or treatment and the interaction I had with my clients. A good example of this occurred a month or two later. I was approached by Shippie from Elsenberg with a request to come and give a third opinion on a cow, which was one of their top Jersey breeding animals and milk producers. Two colleagues had been unable to unravel the mystery of the symptoms she was demonstrating and had given up. Basically, over about six months, her whole temperament had changed. From being a placid, docile, typical Jersey cow she had slowly become more andmore aggressive. She had even charged one of the workers on several occasions. Besides that, she had slowly been losing weight and her milk production had dropped drastically. There had also been bouts of dark, grey diarrhoea. All the tests available at that time had revealed no abnormality. When I arrived there they had already put her into a crush and the whole class of final-year students were there to observe. As I approached her, I was aware of the stary appearance of her coat and slight dehydration. She was obviously restless, moving back and forward and letting out a kick every now and then, occasionally tossing her head and snorting in a most un-Jersey like manner. Of course, the presence of the students didn’t help with their odd cocky remarks as they lounged around, sprawling over any obstacle which would hold them up. A complete examination left me as nonplussed as I had been when I started. And then an inner voice nudged me to suggest doing an exploratory rumenotomy. I had used this valuable diagnostic tool on several occasions before, but I wasn’t even sure what I was going to look for that day. Using the operation site that Coenie Basson had taught me, just posterior to the last rib, I was soon sliding my hand down into the depths of the rumen, feeling my way forward towards the reticulum. The familiar smell of the rumen content met my nostrils, assuring me of a healthy rumen flora and settling my thoughts as I was still being subjected to the odd“wise”remark by one of the students. As I groped about in the reticulum, feeling the wall for adhesions and exploring the content for any sharp objects I picked up the usual collection of little stones and grit, lying in the bottom of the reticulum. As I pulled my hand out to discard these “stones” my eye caught something. I realized instantly that this object was what had been causing the unusual symptoms. It was a lead bullet, probably a .22 calibre, which had eroded somewhat over some time. Everything fell into place, the nervous symptoms, general malaise and periods of slate- coloured diarrhoea all pointed to lead poisoning and I had discovered the source. The cocky remarks of the students hadmysteriouslydriedupandShippie was most relieved at the prospect of a future recovery. It took time but slowly over the next weeks and months the symptoms abated and Shippie had his cow back and I believe there were a few future farmers that had a new respect for our profession. I never did explain to Shippie what led me to do an exploratory rumenotomy. In the meantime, there was an exciting development at home. As I have mentioned before, Emily’s brother had stayed with us for a while after his divorce a year or two previously. He had been speaking of being“born again”periodically and one day Emily had collared me. This was still some time before my Noordhoek weekend. She had asked me to explain what the expression being “born again” meant. I had stuttered and stammered through an explanation, slowly realizing that I did not know. In the meantime Colin had given Emily a book by Billy Graham, simply titled “Born Again”. On one particularly memorable Thursday evening, after the children had gone to bed, Emily almost shyly but urgently asked me if we could chat. Sitting in my office, she produced the book and opened it where she had placed a marker. She held it out to me and said, “I have been reading this chapter over and over today, won’t you help me”. My eye caught the name of the chapter, it read “How to be born again”. To say my heart leapt sounds like a cliché, but I can’t describe the joy I felt at that moment any other way. After I explained to her what I had now learned and experienced, we knelt on the floor and prayed together that she would receive“The new birth”. When we were finished, we ended up clinging to each other, sometimes weeping and sometimes laughing. We had truly not only become“one flesh”but“one spirit”, as well. My prayers had been answered abundantly andmy dear Emily had been launched on a new life which was, among others, to lead to complete healing from the serious depression she had suffered before. 1980 was going to be the watershed year of our lives. v