Wednesday night, Rhiannon went out to dust the chins for me because I have been sick the past few days and didn't want to go in the chin barn. I hear the back door slam and she yelled MOM, COME QUICK, NOW! I got out the door so fast the only thing I thought to grab was a kitchen towel to put over my face.
A mummified chinchilla kit.
My regular vet, for the third or fourth time, was not doing evening hours and the place he recommended we go to I wouldn't take a dead animal, let alone a live one, so I went to a vet in Sioux City that I had used one time who seemed to really know her stuff. I didn't even get through to her, I got her answering system, and took off down the road, waiting for her to call back. It was an hour and 45 minute drive (time becomes important later on here).
We got to the vet and she tried and tried and couldn't get that kit out. She had to take a pair of scissors and slice him/her in half then work the head out slowly while mom was just whimpering in pain. The problem is, the head was in the birth canal, it HAD to come out and she wasn't sure she could reach it surgically. The smell was horrendous. It just permeated the room. The kits had obviously been dead in mom a long time. There was pus and blood all over the place. I have a strong stomach, I can watch pretty much anything, but when she got the scissors out I left the room. I was nauseated beyond words from being ill, then stretching that little baby out myself, and I couldn't take any more.
This kit died of injuries received during birth.
The mother needed touse her teeth to pull
the kit out of the birthing canal.
Next step, surgery. She was going to try to preserve the uterus, but when she opened her up, a literal flood of pus and blood flowed out of her body. My girl got a spay instead. While during the surgery, doc found that her bladder was distended to several times its normal size. Apparently the kits were resting directly on the ureter, blocking all flow of urine. Since the kits were dead, they didn't move as a normal pregnancy would, and the urine just built up and built up. She told me if I had been a half an hour later, her bladder would have ruptured. I can't imagine the pain she would have been in and she would have died an agonizing death.
This was happening around 11:00 at night. We got home around 1:30 a.m. (I thought midnight, the child informed me differently) and had to get up at 5 a.m. the next morning for work and get the kids off to school, still being sick.
Luckily, so far (knocks wood) my girl is doing well. The vet was very worried that her bladder would turn into scar tissue when it shrunk back down and she would be unable to urinate, making all of this a wasted effort as that is not something that can be fixed. Thankfully, she is eating, drinking, peeing and pooping okay as of now. Her poos are a little small, but I think with the stress of all that happened, that's to be expected. She's here in the house with me, in a smallish cage, hoping she will rest and not stress her incision and her poor tired body.
This mother has a severe case of mastitis.
I'd like to say thank you to Blake, BTW, for getting his mom to run to the vet for me. When I flew out the door with chin in hand, the last thing I thought of was grabbing up food. I wanted her to stay at the vet an extra day so she could have subcu fluids and shots of Baytril for at least three days, but it would mean another four hours travel time to take food, then another four hours to pick her up, and I thought I was going to die if I had to make that trip again Thursday. I tracked Blake down (in North Dakota!) and he kindly asked his mom to go and give my girl her munchies. The vet called and was just ready to head out to Petco to pick up some pellets and hay. I said - noooooooooo. I will have food brought there. So, thanks Blake and mom!