Showing posts with label animal bite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animal bite. Show all posts

Friday, October 5, 2012

Rabies on the Brain


I’ve got rabies on the brain. Well, not literally, because that would mean I’d probably be dying in intensive care.
 
Last week (September 28) was World Rabies Day. It is the anniversary of the death of Louis Pasteur (more on him later).
 
Rabies is virus which causes a virtually 100% fatal neurologic disease in all mammals, including humans. According to “Rabies surveillance in the United States during 2011,” last year rabies was diagnosed in animals in 49 states (not Hawaii). Besides the “usual suspects” of bats, skunks, raccoons, foxes, dogs and cats, it was also diagnosed in cattle, horses, sheep, groundhogs, deer, beavers, otters, javelinas (shaggy piggy creatures), bison and alpaca. Bambi and Thumper could be rabid!
 
Rabies is spread by the saliva of a rabid animal. When the rabid animal bites a victim, it inoculates the virus into the tissues. Unlike most viruses and bacteria, which spread through the bloodstream, the rabies virus spreads along nerve cells. Depending on how far the bite wound is from the brain, symptoms might not develop for weeks to months to years. A person in the US died last year of rabies that was acquired from a dog in Brazil eight years previous! For eight years, the virus had been lazily moseying along, inexorably crawling up to the brain.
 
Once the virus hits the brain, bad things happen. Even in the 21st century, over 50,000 people worldwide die of rabies every year. It is a horrible death of alternating periods of lucidity and psychosis, pain, fever, convulsions, hallucinations and hydrophobia (pathologic fear of water).
 
I recently read Rabid: A Cultural History of the World’s Most Diabolical Virus, by writer Bill Wasik and veterinarian Monica Murphy. It’s a fascinating book, although I guess I might not qualify as a totally objective reviewer since I tend to get a little bit obsessed about public health and infectious diseases.
 
Wasik and Murphy weave together a history of rabies and civilization. Although many of the scary epidemic infectious diseases of humans, including Ebola, West Nile, SARS, swine flu, and hanta, are zoonotic (transmitted from animals), only rabies was known to be zoonotic before humanity ever considered the existence of bacteria and viruses. Think of bubonic plague (“The Black Death”): people didn’t realize it was caused by a bacterium spread by the bite of a rat flea. But rabies: slobbering psychotic dog bites human, human turns into slobbering psychotic animal. It was obvious even four millennia ago that rabies was transmitted by animals, particularly canines.
 
The book looks at theories, preventatives and “cures” over the millennia (the most effective preventative prior to vaccination was cauterizing the fresh bite with a red hot poker); history (St. Hubert is the healer of rabies sufferers); mythology (the slaver of Cerberus spreads both rabies and aconite); connections of rabies to werewolf and vampire legends; the handful of documented survivals of rabid humans; weird ideas that people have had to prevent rabies in dogs (one theory suggested rabies spontaneously arose in dogs due to sexual frustration and suggested prevention by creating “doggy bordellos”); rabies in various species (l’enfant du diable = the devil’s child, a skunk); history of canine mass killings in an attempt to stop epidemics; and a recent rabies epidemic on the supposedly rabies-free island of Bali.
 
The most fascinating chapter explains how Louis Pasteur developed the first rabies vaccine in the late 1800’s. In fifteen years of veterinary practice, I have never seen a case of rabies and hope I never do. Pasteur (who is also the father of pasteurization and food safety) was neither a physician nor a veterinarian, but was a really smart dude who was passionate about human and animal health.
 
You can’t grow rabies virus in a Petri dish. The only way Pasteur and his colleagues could grow rabies virus was by maintaining rabid animals in the lab, putting themselves at continual risk of gruesome death. At first they allowed a rabid animal to bite another to perpetuate the virus; then they started collecting saliva from slobbering aggressive dogs to inject into other animals. Eventually they hit on dicing up the central nervous system of a rabid rabbit and depositing it directly onto the dura mater of the recipient’s brain. By repeatedly transferring rabies directly from one rabbit’s brain to another they developed a highly virulent strain. The next step was to inactivate the virulent virus to make the vaccine strain, which they did by leaving the rabbit’s spinal cord out to air-dry for a few days. This air-dried infectious bunny brain was then injected as a vaccine: either a pre-exposure vaccine to prevent infection or a post-exposure vaccine to prevent development of symptoms after a bite.
 
The first human to receive the vaccine was a boy who had been mauled by a rabid dog. Can you imagine the agonizing wait for Pasteur to see if the boy survived or died? (He survived both the bite and the cure.)
 
We all learned in vet school that rabies is absolutely, guaranteed fatal. But some new research is showing it might not be completely 100% fatal. There was a girl in Wisconsin who survived clinical rabies after a medically-induced coma and months of rehab. And a recent paper was published in The American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene that looked at humans living in remote areas of Peru where vampire bats are a common carrier of rabies. 11% of the people had rabies neutralizing antibodies; they had not been vaccinated so those antibodies developed after infection with the real, live virus. How come they didn’t die? Has evolution favored people with a more exuberant immune system that can fight off endemic rabies?
 
However, despite this research, the odds of dying are still very, very high. Make sure your dogs, cats and ferrets are current on their rabies immunizations, and never approach an ill or strangely-behaving bat, skunk, raccoon or fox.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Favorite Rainy Day Topic: euthanasia

A vet friend just told a story (and she might blog about it at some point) that reminded me of an experience I had several years ago.  I was working as an emergency vet at some tiny EC and a couple brought in a tiny doggie with some sort of very fixable issue.  I don't even remember the issue, just that it was a no-brainer and would be a happy end for the family.

Now, this couple was engaged and they were kind of planning to start attempting to have a baby soon after getting married.  As with all smart couples, they discussed how this addition would change their lives.  The happy, wriggling canine on the table, all 5 lbs of him, was friendly and openly interested in making new friends.  But not everyone in the house was like that.

The woman had a cat, one that she loved dearly, that was....honestly, nuts.  The cat was fine with her, but would attack the fiancee, even charging the WINDOWS and tearing up blinds if she saw him coming up the stairs, before he had even entered the house.  She had attacked him, unprovoked,  on multiple occasions, but was mostly fine for the female.  It sounded like there might be some displaced aggression issues, along with over stimulation issues, plus some other psycho babble that I will not bore you with.

It was obvious from the stricken look on the woman's face, that she loved this cat.  And the husband to be loved his wife to be.  They had talked to multiple vets and veterinary technicians about this cat and how to help her adjust.  They had done metabolic testing, tried drugs, and behavioral modification....and all had failed so far.  I mentioned referral to a veterinary behaviorist, and might have been more enthusiastic about it, save one issue:  the possible future baby.

Now, if a cat sized animal is dangerous to an adult, it usually ends up with some biting/scratching wounds for the adult and perhaps a punting injury to the animal.   If something is attacking my leg, the first thing that snaps to mind is to get that thing OFF OF ME.  I do admit to throwing a lizard into a bathtub wall as a kid when I slung my hand in an effort to GET IT OFF OF ME as it chomped down between my thumb and finger.  Around Easter, a chihuahua tried to attack my 6 year old (who loves most animals BTW), and that dog almost got punted across the yard...a well placed kick/shove and my daughter would have been safe (soccer, those skilz are useful when being attacked).  It is pretty much instinct and, while I do not agree with kicking animals, I would have to qualms about it in that situation.

Well, a cat hopped up on pure crazy could do some serious damage to a baby.  Even just infected scratches, lacerated eye balls, scaring the child so that the mere mention of "meow" sends it running and hiding under at desk at the tender age of 26....that is trauma.  And I felt like it warranted, "the talk."  Now, keep in mind, the happy dog was technically my patient, but the owners were really torn up about this cat thing.  They wanted to help her, but they also didn't want to put the future groom and risk, much less a theoretical baby.

Every vet and vet tech they had talked to made them feel guilty.  As a new mother with a timid, possible biting dog on my personal hands, I could easily place myself in their shoes.  I told them that if they were looking for permission to euthanize the cat, I gave it to them, that I would do it for them.  I said that the cat was mentally ill and perhaps years of drugs and therapy might help, but in that time, they and future fruit 'o the loins could be hurt.  If they wanted to euthanize, I would pre-medicate the cat and allow her to fall asleep before really putting a hand on her to minimize stress.  I would not make them feel guilty about it because I knew I was facing something similar at home with my dog and daughter.

I was not going to shame them into a position of attempting to "help" the cat, only to get a call in a couple of years about how it attacked their baby or a guest.  There are so few times that I will literally say, "If this was my animal, I would euthanize," but this was one of those times.  It was agonizing for the woman who loved her cat and I could see the pain in the man's eyes as he watched his future bride think about it.  I told them that they needed to go home and discuss it.  If they wanted me to euthanize, they just had to call back to the EC to make sure I was working that night and I would do it for them.

When they did come back in with the kitty, it was rough on everyone.  I sedated her until she was pretty much asleep, allowing "mom" to let the kitty fall asleep while she was petting her.  The couple chose to leave the room once the kitty was asleep, but before I actually euthanized her.  It was tough on me, on them, and on my staff, even though we all knew that it was the best decision for everyone.

The next time I saw the couple was a happy day visit at a regular clinic where I did relief.  The happy puppy had grown to 7 lbs doggie and was still as happy and wriggly.  The couple was married and the wife was pregnant.  And the relief was palpable.  The family unit was intact, and though any pet, even a well adjusted little dog, can hurt someone (especially a baby), the risk was so much lower.

Not a fun rainy day topic, but my friend's case made me think about this one.  Yes, I euthanized the cat: one that could not be re-homed due to aggression, one that might have hurt someone in the family.  But perhaps I took away that cat's mental pain and saved a child from a scar or a scare or worse.  It sounds like an unhappy thing at first: euthanizing a "healthy" animal, but I would do it if I felt like I could save a little kid in the process.  Most vets have had to face this issue on multiple occasions.  Some owners will have to face this decision.

And as someone who has been on both sides of that table, I can tell you it is hard.  But once my dog finally bit my daughter (by the time she was 3, I could no longer control all of their interactions), I knew  that it was time.  He snapped at her when she bumped into him because he was afraid...but an inch to the center and she might have lost an eye as his tooth scraped her face.  I could not deal with that.  And though I still look at my pictures of him and keep his urn on my shelf, it took about a week before I realized I was no longer worried about a bomb going off in my house and taking out my daughter.