Wish you were here!

So, I am not a farm girl.  I admit that.  As a result, vet school was a truly enriching and enlightening experience.  In freshman anatomy we had a pop quiz.  We were to identify a segment of the bovine penis as shown on the slide... yes slide, not computer...did I just date myself?  We used pens, pencils, and notebooks too, sometimes even a highlighter!  I thought I had answered the question correctly writing, "The sigmoid flexure of the penis of a cow."  When I received the quiz back, the teacher had written in big red letters, "Cows do not have penises!"  

For Halloween that year I bought a cow outfit complete with tail and udder.  I went to the Halloween party with some friends, and they looked at me and said my husband was there.  Being very single at the time, I looked to where their attention was, and there was a young man in my exact outfit, except he had performed a slight modification.  He had removed the utter and in it's place stitched in a pair of Holstein style testes that were white with black spots, and a stuffed spotted penis. Instinctually, I ran over to this verile and handsome bull yelling, "Honey, I'm home" and gave this complete stranger a big hug!  I never even got his name!

Eventually, vet students get to do palpation class, even those of us who have never been around livestock of any sort.  Those of you not familiar with large animal medicine, palpation in this context means we put our entire arm up the bumm of a cow to feel the ovaries, uterus, or whatever else might be medically important.  All I can think is, "Cow's kick, right?  That would hurt, right?"  I show up for class wearing my freshman year Halloween costume...with one slight modification.  I made a cardboard image of a traffic sign reading ..."DO NOT ENTER" and pinned it to my butt.  The student's loved it, but I will admit, I was a bit nervous about the professor's arrival.  He walked in and looked at me.  He said dryly, "Nice."  With a little smirk, he walked over to the countertop.  He pulled a plastic shoulder length glove out of a box, put it on and started chasing me around the room!  One of my classmates grabbed their camera, and yes, this photo ended up in our yearbook.  One of my proudest moments!  The day did not end there.

The humor took some of the nerves of what I was about to do away...but still, arm up a cow's bumm?  Cow's kick, right?  That would hurt, right?

The professor told us to put on the shoulder length glove (sleeve), which is a clear plastic like a sandwich bag, then put an exam glove/rubber glove over that up to our wrist.  If you have significant fingernails, the plastic sleeve could rip, and you could end up with cow poo in your fingernails. Nice.  So, I follow instructions.  My friend and I chose cows right next to each other for moral support because cow's kick, right?  That would hurt, right?   We put our arms up the alley,  and it was fine.  I mean cow poo doesn't smell like dog or cat poo.  That is good.  It is kind of sandy feeling and you could feel ripples of the colon contracting like a snake up and down your arms.  Interesting.  Then it happened.  My cow coughed or hiccoughed or something.  It startled me.  It startled me enough to make me try to pull my arm out...but it wouldn't come out.  The shorter glove had inflated with gas, yes cow toot inflated my glove so large that I could not pull my hand out of the cow bumm.  Now I started to panic, yelling, "Let me go, let me go, let me go!"  with my eyes closed, and I was stamping my feet like a three year old who didn't want to go into the doctor's office.  Then it occurred to me.  I hadn't been kicked, my cow wasn't angry with me, and my cow certainly wasn't constricting it's bumm in order to intentionally keep me from getting away!  I opened my eyes to see a row of other students, with their arms up cow bumms looking at me with the "I am about to die laughing" look on their faces.  My professor came over, reached into my cow and deflated my glove for me.  I was then able to pull my hand out of that vicious cow and it was over. 

My Christsmas card that year was a photo card.  One of me with my hand up a cow bumm and a simple heartwarming sentiment, "Merry Christmas!  Wish you were here!" 

My father received that card and was so proud that he took it to my sister's office at work.  She was a principal in a middle school.  She said, "Dad, I got one too."  He responded, "What a great photo of her...but why is she leaning on that horse?"





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