Misread signal triggers strange gyrations

A mixed-animal veterinary clinic holds a large number of distractions for the casual observer.

Many clients, who are just passing through with a pet or a large animal that needs attention, don't spend enough time with us to become used to all the clinic sights, sounds and smells — or with the doctor's mannerisms.

Any number of small things can distract them while you are trying to describe what's wrong with their animal.

For example, there's nothing worse than giving a long explanation about how to medicate a pet at home, only to discover later that an unsightly particle of debris in your nose probably hypnotized the client half the time you were talking.

That's why we developed a "booger" signal among our staff. It's just a subtle change in facial expression, followed by a mock scratching of the right or left nostril to alert the offender.

The way our clinic is set up, you have to go through the waiting room to get suture material from one of the exam rooms.

This particular day, when I was about halfway through a c-section on a cow, I was in a mad dash from the cattle chute to get a spool of suture. The palpation sleeves I was wearing were covered in blood and gook all the way to my shoulders.

As luck would have it, I encountered a very short lady at the waiting-room entrance. She had a question, and it was very apparent that she was going to ask it "right now." She pulled me over, blood-covered as I was, and started firing questions about her dog.

I was really in a hurry to get back to the gaped-open cow and assumed that she could tell I was in the middle of surgery, but she was interested only in getting her questions answered and paid no attention to the blood dripping down the sleeves and front of my coveralls.

My eyes caught Berenda, our office manager, standing off to one side. For a split second, my attention left the rapid-fire questions and focused on her.

Berenda was making the booger signal.

The lady with the questions was perhaps 5 feet tall. I stand about 6 feet. This meant that she had a clear and unobstructed view of my nostrils. She was so short that no amount of head-bowing on my part was going to obscure her view. And, with my hands and arms covered to the shoulders with the cow's fluids, I couldn't wipe my nose or even brush it against my shoulder.

Berenda seemed to find my predicament amusing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her laughing as I moved from one awkward position to another trying to find one that would allow me to look at the woman without exposing too much of my nose.

Berenda would shake her head each time I moved my head, as if to alert me that "it" was still visible to the client.

Finally the lady finished with her questions and left.

Berenda was laughing hysterically now.

"You don't have a booger," she said. "My nose was just itching and you happened to look over as I was scratching it. You mistook that for the signal and I didn't know how to call it off. Maybe we need another signal to cancel out the accidental one."

That's what she told me, but deep down I have to wonder if she just wanted to see me go through 11 basic ballet movements while trying to hide my nose and not being able to touch it.

Dr. Brock owns the Brock Veterinary Clinic in Lamesa, Texas.