This dog bite thing has become very frustrating. I went to Canadian Blood Services today to donate plasma. Now, when you donate plasma, part of the deal is that you need to get a basic physical from their in-house doctor every year. It was my time to have a physical before donating today.
So he asks me some questions, listens to my heart and breathing, looks in my eyes and ears, taps me on the knees, and I’m good. But I figured I should at least inform him about the dog bite thing – it’s the kind of thing they need to know about. It turns out that he doesn’t really know if it’s a problem, so he phones some other doctor. After talking about their holiday travel plans for a few minutes, the doctor turns to me and says I can’t donate until they get a letter from my family doc saying I am rabies free.
Makes sense, for sure. You can’t be too careful with Blood Services. I asked him if there was some kind of test for rabies, but he had no idea. He assumed there was some kind of blood test. As it turned out later, he was wrong.
I figured I should deal with this issue today, so I went to the drop-in clinic in Dartmouth (I don’t have a family doc). After waiting for about an hour, I got in there and told my story. The doctor sighed and told me that this was going to be way more complicated than I was going to like. His instinct was simply to send me home and tell me not to worry about it because rabies is so rare in Nova Scotia, especially among domesticated dogs. But the problem is that because I didn’t get the owner’s information, nobody can be 100% sure that I wasn’t exposed to the rabies virus. If I had the owner’s information, all we’d have to do is wait 10 days and see if the dog was still alive. Apparently, once rabies sets in, it works very quickly.
In the end, the doctor decided that even though I would have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting rabies, he was still going to call Public Health to let them make the final call. The problem is that rabies is fatal if you don’t get it before it blossoms in your brain – so there is a bit too much at stake to be cavalier.
By the time I got home from the walk-in, I already had a message from Public Health, and just as I was about to call them, they called me again. Yikes. The lady from Public Health was very nice and assured me that her eagerness was only because it was Friday afternoon and they like to tidy things up at the end of the week. Phew.
Anyway… the woman was very nice and asked me for my story – I’m not sure so many people have ever heard a story of mine! She took down the info and asked some questions about things like the dog’s behaviour and so on and so forth. Then she told me to keep the line clear while she talked to the head doctor to assess my risk. It all seemed a bit dramatic to me, but rabies is no joke.
In only a few minutes she called back and told me what the doctor had said. Apparently, there hasn’t been a single case of rabies in Nova Scotia in years and years. And my case is especially low risk because it was a domestic dog that didn’t seem to be showing signs of ill-health.
But…
Because I don’t have any information on the dog besides the owner’s word, they can’t say that I’m 100% risk free. Sigh.
So what the doctor decided was that I didn’t have to have the series of vaccine shots, but I could get them if I wanted them. After all these expert opinions, it comes down to my choice.
Now I have to oh-so-enviable task of weighing pros and cons in this little game of rabies roulette. The very fact that Public Health didn’t descend on my condo with helicopters and men in toxic spill suits means that I’m probably okay. The chances are that I was not exposed to the virus, but the niggling little chance is still there.
The other factor for me to consider is my career as a blood donor. Without the vaccine, I assume I would be too much of a risk – the doctor at the walk-in clinic looked up the incubation period for the virus and (incredibly) it was anywhere from 20 days to 19 years! 90% of cases bloom after a month or two… but again, there is that rare chance that has to be accounted for. I haven’t talked to Blood Services about this end of things yet, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t take me again without the vaccine. However, the deferral for rabies vaccination post-exposure is one year after the last shot.
Speaking of shots… rabies vaccination is notorious for being painful and dangerous… or so I thought. A bit of Web searching turned up a few testimonials that described the modern process as not much more painful than any other vaccination with the same small risks of side effects. The days of 50 deep injections into the abdomen are over (except in remote Indian villages).
But there’s yet another twist. The vaccine needs to be administered on precise days. After the first couple of shots (day 0), I need to go back on days 3, 7, 14, and 28. Not only does this sound not fun, it also coincides with our trip home to Ontario for Christmas! The woman at Public Health assured me that they could organize a shot with Public Health in Brampton or Kingston, but if I had decided to start the shots today, I would have needed one on Christmas! I can only imagine what kind of administrative nightmare it would be for them to organize all of this.
So I’ve decided to take the weekend to mull this over and gather information. I have no real concept of the risks of vaccination. My sources of information so far have been less than scholarly – and none of the government public health sites commented on the risk of pain and side effects from the post-exposure regimen of shots. Are the shots worth it?
All I had to do was to get the dog owner’s freaking phone number – but I didn’t know. Nobody ever said, “If you get bitten by a dog, get the owner’s information or else you’ll get stuck full of needles.” If this had been a car accident, I would have known to get the information – that’s drilled into everyone practically from birth. But this was new, and I mucked it up, and now I have to make this silly decision.
There is a moral to this story for every runner: if you get bitten, if your skin is broken at all, after you're done cursing at the owner, get his or her information – you’ll save yourself a lot of frustration.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Once Bitten… A Dog Caper
On my Sunday long run on the Shubie trail, I got attacked by a dog named Caper. Normally, I love irony – and there’s a nice bit of irony in being pursued by and jumped on by a dog named Caper. But I don’t love irony or biting wit when it literally bites me on the ass… or in this case, all over my calves.
I’ve had my fair share of doggie run-ins: I’ve been leapt on and tripped up by playful dogs – in on-leash areas, no less – while their mocha latte carrying owners look on with amusement, as if the whole thing were cute. I’ve been chased by dogs and incurred the wrath of an owner when my heel accidentally came in contact with her dog’s jaw (also in an on-leash area). I’ve been wrapped up in a dog leash as a dog darted to the side of an owner as I tried to pass. I’ve even stepped in a dog turd or two. But I’ve never before been attacked by a snarling, angry dog with sharp fangs.
Enter Caper.
I was about 8.5km into my usual long run route, running up a bit of a hill at a decent clip when I spotted a dog a little ways into the woods at the top of the hill. Technically, the trail is an on-leash area, but it’s not unusual to see dogs off leash, so I didn’t really think anything of it. The dog was staring at me with one of its forelegs raised and paw bent, but that didn’t mean anything to me. The majority of dogs on the trail are curious about runners but don’t get in the way.
As I came up the hill, the dog suddenly bounded after me. ‘Oh great,’ I thought, rolling my eyes. I assumed this was another playful dog looking for amusement, so I assumed my usual sideways protect-my-balls position and waited for the dog to leap up and for the owner, who was lagging behind, to call the dog off.
But this dog was anything but playful. It immediately latched onto my right calf and went postal, biting and scratching and snarling. It took me a few seconds to understand that the dog was indeed biting me and that what I felt really was pain, but by that time, the dog was all over me -- I could only curse and try to extract myself. All the while, the owner was calling the dog’s name, “Caper! Caper!” – but it took what seemed like an eternity before he grabbed the beast by the collar and dragged him away.
I’m not sure how long the dog was chewing on my leg – time is hard to estimate when all of your attention is focused on one thing – but it was enough time for the dog to leave a number of bloody tooth marks in my leg. I’m not sure what kind of dog it was: it was no Doberman, but it wasn’t a yappy little Chihuahua either – it looked like some kind of retriever, but with shaggy hair. The situation could have been worse, but it still sucked.
After the attack, I had no idea what to do, so I just kept running. What else could I do after getting bit by a dog? I wasn’t much in the mood for hanging around and sharing my feelings with the owner – although maybe I should have. It’s more than a little irresponsible to unleash your dog if said dog is a mangy beast bent on the destruction of all living things that move, especially in an area where people bring their kids. The on-leash by-laws are not there just to be a pain in the ass to dog owners – they are there to protect people and wildlife from the odd Cujo that’s being exercised.
As you can see, I’m a little bitter – the bites still hurt. And now I’m seriously paranoid about getting rabies, although when I asked the owner if the dog had its shots, he assured me that it had… but who knows, right? Just in case, I’ve shown Julie-Ann where all our heavy and sharp objects are stored so she can off me if I start frothing at the mouth.
Luckily, the wounds weren’t all that deep – they looked more like bad scratches than full-on punctures. But if I survive this wound, I’m not sure how I’m going to react the next time a dog comes bounding at me on the trail. It seems as though giving the dog the benefit of the doubt wasn’t the best call, but can I bring myself to lash out at a dog before it latches on to me?
I don’t want to hate dogs, especially because the vast majority of dogs and dog owners are well-behaved, but once bitten…
I’ve had my fair share of doggie run-ins: I’ve been leapt on and tripped up by playful dogs – in on-leash areas, no less – while their mocha latte carrying owners look on with amusement, as if the whole thing were cute. I’ve been chased by dogs and incurred the wrath of an owner when my heel accidentally came in contact with her dog’s jaw (also in an on-leash area). I’ve been wrapped up in a dog leash as a dog darted to the side of an owner as I tried to pass. I’ve even stepped in a dog turd or two. But I’ve never before been attacked by a snarling, angry dog with sharp fangs.
Enter Caper.
I was about 8.5km into my usual long run route, running up a bit of a hill at a decent clip when I spotted a dog a little ways into the woods at the top of the hill. Technically, the trail is an on-leash area, but it’s not unusual to see dogs off leash, so I didn’t really think anything of it. The dog was staring at me with one of its forelegs raised and paw bent, but that didn’t mean anything to me. The majority of dogs on the trail are curious about runners but don’t get in the way.
As I came up the hill, the dog suddenly bounded after me. ‘Oh great,’ I thought, rolling my eyes. I assumed this was another playful dog looking for amusement, so I assumed my usual sideways protect-my-balls position and waited for the dog to leap up and for the owner, who was lagging behind, to call the dog off.
But this dog was anything but playful. It immediately latched onto my right calf and went postal, biting and scratching and snarling. It took me a few seconds to understand that the dog was indeed biting me and that what I felt really was pain, but by that time, the dog was all over me -- I could only curse and try to extract myself. All the while, the owner was calling the dog’s name, “Caper! Caper!” – but it took what seemed like an eternity before he grabbed the beast by the collar and dragged him away.
I’m not sure how long the dog was chewing on my leg – time is hard to estimate when all of your attention is focused on one thing – but it was enough time for the dog to leave a number of bloody tooth marks in my leg. I’m not sure what kind of dog it was: it was no Doberman, but it wasn’t a yappy little Chihuahua either – it looked like some kind of retriever, but with shaggy hair. The situation could have been worse, but it still sucked.
After the attack, I had no idea what to do, so I just kept running. What else could I do after getting bit by a dog? I wasn’t much in the mood for hanging around and sharing my feelings with the owner – although maybe I should have. It’s more than a little irresponsible to unleash your dog if said dog is a mangy beast bent on the destruction of all living things that move, especially in an area where people bring their kids. The on-leash by-laws are not there just to be a pain in the ass to dog owners – they are there to protect people and wildlife from the odd Cujo that’s being exercised.
As you can see, I’m a little bitter – the bites still hurt. And now I’m seriously paranoid about getting rabies, although when I asked the owner if the dog had its shots, he assured me that it had… but who knows, right? Just in case, I’ve shown Julie-Ann where all our heavy and sharp objects are stored so she can off me if I start frothing at the mouth.
Luckily, the wounds weren’t all that deep – they looked more like bad scratches than full-on punctures. But if I survive this wound, I’m not sure how I’m going to react the next time a dog comes bounding at me on the trail. It seems as though giving the dog the benefit of the doubt wasn’t the best call, but can I bring myself to lash out at a dog before it latches on to me?
I don’t want to hate dogs, especially because the vast majority of dogs and dog owners are well-behaved, but once bitten…
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