In 1964 I was called by Mrs. William R. Paisley of Glenwood, New Brunswick, a small country community along the lower reaches of the Saint John River, and offered her husband’s papers and books on veterinary medicine for the sum of $10.00. Since these items had been so interesting and helpful to her late husband, “Doctor” Bill Paisley, she possibly supposed that anyone just beginning practice would also benefit.
After many moves around the Maritimes, the package of texts of the time (Springtime Surgery, for example) had been lost or discarded, as had numerous letters written to prominent veterinarians of the day (Dr. George White of The White Serum Company, Nashville, Tennessee and Dr. R.A. McIntosh, then Principal of the Ontario Veterinary College, Guelph, Ontario).
From memory of the correspondence, especially that sent to Dr. McIntosh, Bill Paisley would outline a case history and his method of treatment of a cow, for example, with what is known today as “milk fever.” Perhaps the Paisley treatment was unsuccessful and would Dr. McIntosh, his inquiry continued, recommend any recent “advancement” that would have better results?
The vet school head would cordially reply, as one might expect, with a sense or intuitiveness of what initially prompted this letter while gladly, so it seemed, offering up the use and dosage of the calcium/magnesium product of the day that, when administered resulted in the patient rising to her feet. So it went with colic cases, animals in poor physical shape after a long winter, skin diseases, and problems of the hoof of the horse. Perhaps this was all an example of early distance education.
Though farming was his principal occupation, Bill Paisley aspired to practice in the science of veterinary medicine and did so in areas of the province far removed from his home base at Glenwood, Kings County, New Brunswick. He seemed eager to do the best possible for his clients during this time of fledgling development of veterinary service on a provincial basis and was recognized by New Brunswick’s first director of vet service, Dr. Joe Atkins, with what amounted to an offer of honorary membership within that group. He apparently declined the offer (Joseph Atkins, personal communication).
Two of his textbooks remain on a shelf in a sunny room in our home overlooking a broad farm landscape, so typical of what he saw from the slight rise where his home was, in full view of “The Rhine of North America,” the Saint John River…home to fly rods in the hands of the likes of Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, and others from every corner of the world.
The Principles of Veterinary Surgery by Merrillat and the included, General Veterinary Surgical Pathology, Alexander Eger, editor, Chicago, 1928, is a modestly slim volume that bears the tell-tale red ink, underlined facts, and asterisks all common to students of any discipline. One of the many marginal notes directs the reader to page 196 where a discussion of erysipelas is presented, indicating that although the disease had been diagnosed in the “horse,” the “ox,” and the “dog,” it was “no longer unknown in the hog.”
Another of his texts was a small tome of details helpful for any beginner in veterinary pharmacology. Definitions, many of which had check marks alongside, indicated those studied and, perhaps, committed to memory. Though the cover and, therefore the title were missing, on the frontispiece is the flowing signature of the “doc” and the date of 1932 (underlined four times). He signed his name at various places in the texts and only twice was it noted that the word, “veterinary” followed the signature.
When you bought textbooks early in your career as a student in any branch of higher education you may recall a feeling of now being one with the spirit of the study course ahead… you had in your hand proof that you can move on and that ownership of a potential future in your chosen field seemed definite. His many indentations spoke of pride in the printed word and his contacts with those qualified in the field affirmed a personal commitment to do his best. This sense of belonging and understanding in vet medicine blossomed, seemingly, with each communication he received.
The text contains sections on the life span of animals, dosage or posology, therapeutic terms, Coleman’s Easy Method of Writing Prescriptions, Wine or Apothacaries’ Measures, The Principles of Combining Drugs and Incompatability. As mentioned earlier, the owner had inserted small notations at various places beside text (a study method not uncommon among all students) that would alert him to such as, “ounces in a pint…16”, “ounces in a quart…32,” and “16 drops in a cc.”
In the center section is a loose slip of blue paper torn from a letterhead of the Kress and Owen Company of Canada Limited, St. Paul Street, West Montreal. It features what appears to be a hastily written script for a 5% solution of cocaine hydrochloride, directing that an ounce of water requires 24 grains of cocaine, a half-ounce — 12 grains and a quarter ounce — 6 grains...all in sterile water.
CPOD or “heaves” in the horse when seen by “Doc” Paisley required fluid extract of grindilia for 4 or 5 days at the level of 1 ounce morning and night for the “ordinary sized” horse. This script was obtained from his pal, Dr. George White and, as we are assured by the recorder, is “accurate.”
Laudanum, cannabis, Fowler’s solution, and cocaine all swirled about with variations on a blend far from soothing of turpentine, gentian, and gelsemium. They all found their places in “accurately copied” scripts for colic (constipated and spasmodic), blood purifiers, condition remedies, and worms in animals of every class (see Figure 1 for an example). To have the “fly on the wall” position in Bill Paisley’s work area at home before he began his springtime travels would be a sight to behold. Watching over his shoulder we’d see mixing vats, bottles, a label of sorts for every bottle, and the packing up and securing of cargo.
Figure 1.
A sample of Bill Paisley’s recipes.
Who among us when waiting for medical decisions in a hospital facility is not delighted to have the doctor wave a script and say, “You’ll be fine, just get this at the pharmacy.” Well, to have a veterinarian pull up with a vehicle full of drugs to get the mare back on her feet for another season or to worm the sheep and have the “blood purifier” problem addressed in the same breath… that had to be good news after a long winter!
Dr. White, the State Veterinarian for Tennessee, was offered moose hunting trips in the province and accommodation at the Paisley home. He also owned a company manufacturing disease-fighting serums, not vaccines, but blood serum products containing antibodies for known diseases of the day. If you could diagnose the illness and if you had serum available chock-full of antibodies you could try the IV route to success.
The pharmacology primer has a number of blank pages in the back that have been used by Mr. Paisley to record prescriptions sent by his correspondents. Cocaine, cannabis, laudanum, and arsenic are common in the formularies. Possession of some of these elements within the walls of your practice today might be cause for legal intervention.
Fowler’s Solution of arsenic, for example, was recommended by older veterinarians I knew when I started practice in the 1960s as an appetite stimulant in cattle. My wife, when 7, was given this product drop-wise daily for years by a medical practitioner in Maine, USA, as treatment for psoriasis. Many years later arsenic did to her what it has done to many thousands of others…produce tumors in skin, affect digestive and urinary function and ever, without leaving the body systems, serving as a progressive threat to health at all times (Dr. Jacqueline Tousignant, personal communication).
“Doc” Paisley packed his bags, boxes, and tools and left the farm every spring to castrate the farm animals of New Brunswick, to treat respiratory infections, improve the “condition” of animals which would provide food and service to farmers and their families. His sponge-like nature in absorbing information and his hunger for instruction and training, especially via the postal system of the day, built a formidable bank of references all leading to increased credibility.
Bill Paisley had numerous remedies such as laudanum for colic, a mix of salt, soda, sodium sulphate, nux vomica, and gentian he called a “tonic powder” for horses and mustard well mixed with copper sulphate to de-worm sheep. These he dispensed mixed with his own sense of self-trust or inner confidence that flowed perhaps from his close association with at least 2 well-known qualified professionals. His was an early but sound association with the “value-added” concept in animal medicine.
Let your mind stray for a moment and examine that can of turpentine you used last week to wash a paint brush. One shudders at the thought of such a product finding its way down a beautifully constructed conduit like the esophagus, bull-dozing countless thousands of cells along the trail to the walls of the multi-functional stomach and, in the process, daring anything living in its path to stay attached to intestinal walls and keep on happily living its saprophytic life. Then there was the dry-cleaner’s friend, carbon tetrachloride, combined with the welcome wash of linseed oil to induce a writhing, greasy cauldron of gas and digested fiber that eventually blew in all directions without apology. This was a Dr. McIntosh recommendation to de-worm a horse. Dosage was the key and “doc” Paisley seemed up for the mathematics.
Prescriptions were copied from his 2 main consultants, Drs. White and McIntosh, and in his flowing hand were noted as being “perfectly copied” with their origin duly credited. From what one may read in this descriptive volume of pharmacological definitions, his nature was to learn proper names, how to write a script, and to administer only the “proven” combinations learned via Canada Post.
Did this fellow do any harm, as human medical science is wont to discover? Or did he move in socio-economic circles in those years of The Great Depression that made space for him, gave him unfettered room to ply a natural talent? The fact that he was invited to join the troops under Dr. Atkins says positively he was recognized and, one suspects, in kindly fashion, would have found a niche in an atmosphere well-suited to his thirst for a deeper understanding of animal medicine.
Footnotes
Editor’s note: Sandy McAllister is a 1963 DVM graduate of the Ontario Veterinary College and a 1988 M.S. graduate of Cornell University.
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