It has to start somewhere
I was watching our oldest daughter, Emili, handle the wheel as she steered the car for the first time. Ten years old means I’ve had her more than half the time I am going to, and she is starting to grow up.

 
My wife, Kerri, and I have always made driving look so easy I guess she just figured it was a snap. I had to move the wheel several times to keep us from hitting mailboxes and swerving into the ditch. After a few practice runs and some nervous moments, I’m sure she’ll do just fine. In fact, in a few years she’ll be able to drive while talking on the phone, drinking a Coke and changing the radio station all at the same time. The evolution of confidence brought my mind back to my first C-section on a cow.

 
Showtime
I was in the thriving metropolis of Clarendon, Texas, and surrounded by cowboys who had seen many more C-sections than I. In fact, at three weeks post graduation, I had never even seen or done one. This meant that the first one I was ever going to see was going to be done by me. Think about that and get nervous with me.
These weren’t just any cowboys; they were the cowboys from a ranch south of town that had a reputation of being the best ranch around. I was irked at Texas A&M for never once in four years affording me the opportunity to see or do this procedure. Oh, I had seen a film on it once, but that is about like watching a TV commercial for Dr. Pepper and knowing what it tastes like.

 
The cowboys were sizing up the young Dr. Brock. They watched my every move and seemed to be looking through my artificial external confidence. I was already exhausted from having tried to deliver the calf. Oh, yes, I had already pulled, poked, strained, twisted, lubricated, sweated and groaned. In fact, I had done this to the tune of about two hours. All the other veterinarians were gone and there was no one to turn to but about 15 guys who all looked like the Marlboro Man. And to make matters worse, they all thought I knew what I was doing!
The film at vet school had shown the baby being delivered from the underside with the cow laying on her back. I had gathered from the conversation among the cowboys that another veterinarian, Dr. Deyhle, did them standing through the left flank. What was I going to do? I had never even seen a cow cut open in the flank much less delivered a calf through that area. And besides, if they had never seen one taken through the belly, they wouldn’t know if I was messing up or not.

 
With that path of logic, I proceeded to tell them that recent research had shown that the calf and cow did much better if the baby was taken through the belly. I added to this that there would be no visible scar and the cows usually sold better because of this. This brought about a few moments of low rumbling between them as they pondered something new. If there is one thing I had learned about people who live on a ranch that is 50 miles from the closest town, it is that something new must be studied for awhile before it is accepted.

 
After a few minutes of high level discussion between the eldest of the cowboys, they decided the belly approach would be okay. We all knew that the calf was already dead, it was dead when they brought her in. I guess they figured they didn’t have too much to lose.

 
Stage is set
We let this cow out of the chute and they jumped on her like fleas on a dog.
In no time at all they had her tied and laying back. The stage was now mine. With trembling hands I went to work. We put a local block in her belly and went to cutting. As sheer dumb luck would have it, the surgery went perfectly. I was in and out of that cow in 20 minutes. She got up and loaded in the trailer like nothing had ever happened. These guys thought they had just witnessed the newest thing in cow C-sections. I could hear them comment among themselves about how easy it was and how there was no scar that would keep her from selling.
They all piled into a four-door pickup, and as they drove off, they were still discussing the benefits of the “belly” C-section. As for me, I was never so glad to be finished with anything in my life. I could feel the stomach juices churning away at the ulcer I felt sure had to be developing. How many more of these “first-time-I-ever-saw-it-I-was-doing-it” things was I going to have to endure?

 
I grew up a little that day. I never did another C-section through the belly of a cow for anyone else but that ranch. In fact, I know the guy that does their vet work now and they insist that every C-section be done through the belly.

 
As for me, I hate doing them through the belly. If I can help it, I’ll never do another one. I finally got to watch Dr. Deyhle do one standing, and boy, is it easier. I guess we all have to almost hit the mailbox and swerve toward the ditch a few times before we can gain confidence. I’ve done hundreds of C-sections on cows over the years. In fact, I can do them now while talking on the phone, drinking a Coke and changing the radio station.


People that haven’t read a book since that “had too” in high school even love “Crowded in the Middle of Nowhere” by Bo Brock. Amazon.com