"Even the cow was smiling"

I was (again) wasting some time this morning (it's almost scary at how good I am at doing this). Most of my friends know that I have wanted to be a veterinarian for most of my life. In high school I read James Herriot's novels of being a country veterinarian in England. His stories are an endearing portrait of a veterinarian's daily life.

This is an excerpt of one of my FAVORITE stories in All Creatures Great and Small, and something that frequented my mind during clinics in school.

"They didn't say anything about this in the books, I thought, as the snow blew in through the gaping doorway and settled on my naked back.

I lay face down on the cobbled floor in a pool of nameless muck, my arm deep inside the straining cow, my feet scabbing for a toe hold between the stones. I was stripped to the waist and the snow mingled with the dirt and the dried blood on my body. I could see nothing outside the circle of flickering light thrown by the smoky oil lamp which the farmer held over me.

No, there wasn't a word in the books about searching for your ropes and instruments in the shadows; about trying to keep clean in a half bucket of tepid water; about the cobbles digging into your chest. Nor about the slow numbing of the arms, the creeping paralysis of the muscles as the fingers tried to work against the cow's powerful expulsive efforts.

There was no mention anywhere of the gradual exhaustion, the feeling of futility and the little far-off voice of panic.

My mind went back to that picture in the obstetrics book. A cow standing in the middle of a gleaming floor while a sleek veterinary surgeon in a spotless parturition overall inserted his arm to a polite distance. He was relaxed and smiling, the farmer and his helpers were smiling, even the cow was smiling. There was no dirt or blood or sweat anywhere."

It is humbling to know that your very thoughts have been shared by greats of your profession.....