| Oyagoi
Join Date: Oct 2004 Location: Lakewood, So Calif Posts: 2,043
| California Koi Vet saves koicops fish George
A very dear friend of ours and our dog & koi vet, Dr. Robert Hildreth, works on Don & Brenda Chandlers koi "George". Read all about it in the Orange County register.
EDIT: Slide show of the procedure Slideshow - Life - It's not sushi, but you won't believe what Dr. Bob does with a scalpel and a fish 
STEADY NOW: Dr. Hildreth moves the patient, a 26" koi fish, into a separate tank to be anesthetized. He uses an anesthetic powder in a separate tank to knock the fish out for surgery. Wednesday, June 11, 2008 It's not sushi, but you won't believe what Dr. Bob does with a scalpel and a fish This Irvine veterinarian once removed a 3-lb tumor from an 11-lb fish. His priciest patient was an $80,000 koi. By TOM BERG THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER Comments 0| Recommend 1 IRVINE – Medical history is about to be made. "You might want to step back," says the surgeon wearing shorts and sneakers. "There's going to be some splashing!" With that, he lifts a 25-inch fish named "George W" out of a tub of anesthetizing water and carries him into the x-ray room. Fish owner Don Chandler, a retired policeman, assists while his wife Brenda looks on in obvious emotional pain. "I was afraid we lost him three weeks ago," she says of the first attempt to remove an abscess from George W's swim bladder. "I'd never seen him bleed like that. I had to leave the room." The problem here is trying to get George W to stand up straight in front of a fluoroscope, which produces live x-rays – necessary, to work on the abscess. "Dr. Bob" Hildreth – one of about 20 fish surgeons in the nation – has one idea. Chandler has another. And George W has his own. Last time, George W got so stressed out, squirming and slipping and trying to get back into his tank of warm water, that he spewed blood from his vent. Dr. Bob had never seen such a reaction. He halted the proceeding. Now George W is back and Dr. Bob is about to make fish history. Get ready because you're going to hear about fish that listen to opera, fish that recognize their owner's footsteps and fish that do the limbo. Really. You're also going to hear about a fish surgeon on the verge of a medical breakthrough with a homemade device that looks scarily like a fish torture rack. Even better, it all starts with a love story. ... Dr. Bob never intended to be a fish surgeon. He was your typical dog-and-cat veterinarian who'd seen a few fish when he got called to a koi show. It seems a woman in the finals had a koi with a torn fin so naturally the reaction was: EVERYBODY PANIC! The realfear was that a woman might actually win (in 1995, koi shows were an all-male domain), but the expressedfear was that her wounded fish might have a deadly bacterial disease – aeromonas– that could spread through the tanks. Dr. Bob rushed over. "It was obvious this fish got caught in a net," Dr. Bob says. "It was a very minor injury, but people were panicking." Tammy Davis decided to withdraw her koi anyway – just in case. Then she asked the young fish doctor to check the rest of her koi stock at home – just in case. They talked for four hours. Soon they were dating, then married. "They call it koi kichi, which means koi crazy," Dr. Bob says of the passion koi owners exhibit. "Well, that's how I met Tammy." Soon Dr. Bob had koi kichi himself. He fell in love with Orange County's koi community – which includes the oldest koi club in America. "The people were nice," he says. "They had beautiful fish. I was willing to learn from them and they were willing to learn from me." He introduced a new concept to these koi-crazy owners: science. It was a turning point. "Up to that point, it was hit or miss," says Pam Spindola, of North Tustin, a nationally known koi judge and former grand-champion winner. "We called it the shotgun approach. If a fish had an abrasion, you'd start with simple Mercurochrome." Dr. Bob tested for viruses and parasites. He introduced microscopic exams and the judicious use antibiotics on fish. And more. When he encountered an 11-pound koi with a three-pound tumor, he introduced Orange County to fish surgery. SEEING IS BELIEVING Yes, he's performed fish cancer surgery, facial reconstructions and fin splints. He's operated on an $80,000 fish. Appeared on Animal Planet's "Beverly Hills Vet." And even played a fish's "favorite music" to help it recover from surgery. Tammy was there. The owner kept calling, asking how her koi was recuperating. Tammy said it seemed happy but wasn't eating. To which the owner replied: "You need to turn on opera music. And sing to the fish. And you need wine!" That's how its owners ended each day – listening to opera, sharing a glass of wine and sitting by their koi pond. Well… "As soon as I turned on the opera," Tammy says, "the fish started eating." What does Dr. Bob, a nationally known fish surgeon and lecturer, think about all this? "Seeing is believing," he says. "I don't know how to say it other than that." The truth is, fish have all five senses we do plus they can feel vibrations in the water. Tammy's koi recognized the sound of her door latch when she walked out to feed them. Other koi recognize their owner's footsteps. They'll swim up and settle on top of their hands. "These fish can live 30 years," says Dr. Bob. "They become part of the family, as much as the family dog." Before you get too lathered up, a quick history lesson: Two centuries ago, if a vet even looked at a dog, the act would've been seen as borderline insane. The first veterinary college opened in Lyon, France, in 1762, to keep the primary engines of transportation and war – that is, horses – running. Over the next century, vets extended their clientele to cows, sheep and other farm animals to assist agriculture. It really wasn't until Americans fell in love with "Lassie" in the 1950s that sick dogs were no longer put down. Since then, the U.S. pet industry has grown into a $41 billion-a-year business that includes not only dog surgery, but cat surgery, bird surgery and so on. Can fish really be far behind? "I have to tolerate a lot of jokes," Greg Lewbart, a professor of aquatic animal medicine at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, says of the typical flushing and grilling jokes that accompany talk about sick fish. "That's just part of people getting accustomed to it." Lewbart knows people who've taught goldfish to limbo (swimming under a bar); people who sleep on the floor next to their aquarium with a sick fish; and people who've spent $500 to heal a $1 fish. Why? Money is not a factor, he says. People spend thousands on sick dogs and cats they got for free. He says he'd easily spend $2,000 to save the snake he's had since 1982 – adding, "This is an animal that probably wouldn't know me from you!" Why then? What is it? SAVING "W" The patient is ready, listing ever so slightly from the second pinch of anesthetic dropped into her tub of water. "He's very gentle," Brenda Chandler says, as her husband and Dr. Bob coax a long net over George W from back to front. "He loves to eat Cheerios from the grandkids' toes!" Dr. Bob has built a contraption for this – five Velcro straps on a Plexiglas board to contain his patient. But the men opt to use Don Chandler's contraption instead: a long net with Velcro straps that hangs on a frame. This will allow them to return George W to his water a little quicker. George W has a common koi problem – a swim-bladder abscess that causes him to sink, which causes ulcers. Dr. Bob began treating koi with this ailment five years ago. First, he withdraws the infected fluid with a needle. Then he injects an equal amount of air into the swim bladder and voila – the koi's buoyancy returns. Trouble is, you need to hold a squirming fish vertically in front of a fluoroscope to see what you're doing. He never had a good way to keep the fish still, until now. They carry George W into the x-ray room. Assistant Jesse Nunes continually douses water down George W's mouth to keep him alive. Brenda mops of the water spills with a towel. George W appears calm. No blood. Ten minutes later they return George W to his anesthetic water to keep him sedated. "Hey sweetie," Chandler purrs to his pet. Another 10 minutes and Dr. Bob has removed the infected fluid and "reinflated" the air bladders. "That went perfect," he says. "That was like butter!" Ten more minutes and George W is swimming in his travel tank. Returned to normal for $400. "He's without peer," Chandler says of Dr. Bob. "There are probably five or six vets whose names are common across the U.S. and he's one of them." But can the surgeon explain the rising popularity of surgery on pets than can't jump in your lap or your car? "I believe animals come into your life and teach you valuable life lessons," Dr. Bob says later. "About how to care for other people and other things on earth. About how to love unconditionally." He and Tammy own 10 dogs (one with three legs), 38 horses, 75 fish, three cats and about 100 swallows (the same ones that return to Capistrano build nests in their eaves each year and he won't knock them down because they might have eggs). "Nobody likes to see anything die," he says. "Hopefully, that animal did something to make you a better person. We should learn something about ourselves from every animal we own." Even a fish.
__________________  Grandma & Tategoi Nancy M. Koi-Unit CKHPA |
06-12-2008
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