Winter Cattle Journal 2025 | Neosporin and Bandages
A few months back, my husband hurt himself. The throttle stuck on a four-wheeler he was on and it corkscrewed around a fence post that was holding up a four-strand barb wire fence. Eventually, the four-wheeler fell off a river embankment and landed on him, thus ending the serious incident.
I was in town when it happened, and he called me on his way to the house to tell me what happened (Red Alert One). He did not argue with any of my suggestions regarding what he should do (Red Alert Two). He was lying on the couch when I arrived home later that evening (Red Alert Three).
In true male fashion, he also made sure to say that no, I did not need to pull our daughter out of gymnastics early and rush home. He definitely did not need a doctor, or to head to the hospital. In fact, if I could just pick up a few bandages and some Neosporin, that should take care of it. The morning after the incident, he almost met my eyes as he soundly said he was fine except for needing to go the chiropractor. As if I wouldn’t notice he strongly resembled a mummy with all his wounds dressed, some with blood showing through.
Such situations are one example of when it comes in handy to be a farm/ranch girl. The only thing that can prepare a woman for literally piecing her husband back together is a father of the same mold, and my father prepared me well.
Farmers and ranchers are not your typical male patients. They would literally rather die in most instances than see a doctor. After all, what is a doctor going to do beyond charge an arm and a leg to tell him what he already knows about his arm and/or leg. Plus, there is stuff to do, and God bless the people involved if he were to actually go to a healthcare location and overhear about an impending rain or snow storm.
But an exasperated wife who is genuinely overwhelmed with concern for her husband on top of being sick and tired of his hurt antics will have no problem threatening death. Slow, painful death in a location where he can watch the snow blow into the last corn field he needs to combine, if he doesn’t sit down, be quiet, and execute A, B, and C in order and without complaint.
It is a combination physical and mental showdown over whether he will or won’t be cared for. Unimaginable until you experience it yourself. God puts an extra bit of starch in farm and ranch wife backbones somewhere along the line for just such instances.
Initial care is usually stressful and frantic. Stop the bleeding. Put the pieces back to together. Find a way to hold it all together. Following that in my husband’s case, I insisted he get a tetanus shot and take antibiotics (sans emergency room visit, of course). He also made the all-important trip to the chiropractor, which he assured me did a vast amount good.
Following the initial hurdle, much like medical field professionals, farm and ranch wives like to consult one another about ongoing care options. After all, our “medical practices” are typically limited to our own kitchen table and the calving shed. I asked a friend who previously worked in the medical profession what her suggestions were in my instance. It was a public setting, and I noticed the town women growing pale and concerned as she asked if he needed stitches. Yes. Was he going to get them? No. Was his bleeding under control? Yes. Any broken or visible bones? No. Was he taking it easy? Yes, mostly. She then listed off a few things I hadn’t thought of, half of which were most readily available through a veterinarian.
A couple women later asked if he honestly wasn’t going to the doctor for his wounds. He wasn’t. One rattled off a handful of very real and serious complications that could occur if his wounds weren’t properly cared for. And, while I genuinely appreciated her concern, what was I to do? Just grab my 6’3″ husband and gently lead him to the car and the hospital? Maybe carefully stuff him in the trunk?
I can almost hear some of you chuckling. Part of the reason only one-percent of the population is in agriculture is because the rest of the population isn’t as stubborn as we are.
Plus, my years of experience told me he was fine, all things considered. There are only a couple free healthcare passes in agriculture marriages, and they must be used wisely. If they’re used too fast, it will become all the harder to get him to the hospital when he really needs to go. He’ll grouse and carry on about the last time, and how they poked and prodded and did nothing but send a big bill and waste a full day of his time. And that’s assuming they didn’t get him into a hospital gown. If that happens, wife credibility is completely gone unless it was absolutely necessary.
Now that we are over the worst of it, I can thankfully say my husband rates pretty good on the Richter scale of farmers and ranchers requiring medical care.
Then there is my father, who asked why my husband wasn’t getting stitches a day after his accident. Of all people to pose such a question, I never saw it coming from him. I told my dad to turn his right arm over and look at the three-inch long scar just above the wrist. He just chuckled and said something like he is immune to needing stitches, and it had healed up just fine with a little Neosporin and some bandages…
