11/09/2025
Supportive care is just as important as antibiotic therapy!
Everyone loves to talk about antibiotics. I mean, I love them too. They’re the Beyoncé of the vet world. They show up, center stage, spotlight on, music swelling, crowd cheering. Meanwhile, supportive care is the bass player. Quiet. Unbothered. Holds the whole band together. Doesn’t get credit until something goes very wrong.
Here’s the thing: pathogens are petty. They don’t just show up and say hello. They pick an organ, walk in like they own the place, kick over the furniture, eat all the snacks, and leave the calf’s body trying to file an insurance claim that does not exist.
Scours isn’t “just diarrhea.” Scours is the gut lining going, “I regret to inform you I have decided to dissolve. Good luck absorbing nutrients. Sincerely, chaos.” Pneumonia isn’t “just a cough.” It’s the lungs playing musical chairs with oxygen. Salmonella Dublin? That one shows up like: “What if I set the liver on fire, confuse the brain, lower circulation, and hide inside your immune cells so you cannot find me. Love, the villain of the story.”
So yes, antibiotics are fantastic. They fight the bug. We absolutely use them. However, supportive care is often the reason the calf survives long enough for the antibiotic to do anything at all.
Supportive care looks like electrolytes saying, “We are not dying today.” Probiotics saying, “Everybody please return to your assigned apartments in the gut lining.” Caffeine stepping in like a barn mom who has had enough: “Circulation, sweetheart, time to wake up.” Anti-inflammatories cooling the internal wildfire. Warm dry bedding making sure the calf doesn’t spend her last energy shivering. Pain control saying, “If you hurt, you won’t eat. If you won’t eat, you won’t recover. So here is your comfort.”
Supportive care also looks like me sitting in straw at 2 pm, 10 pm, and 5:30 am whispering, “Please drink this. Pretend it’s a frappuccino. I am begging you." It looks like motivational speeches directed at someone who is asleep with her tongue sticking out.
Then one day, she stands up. She shakes her head. She wanders over to the milk like she invented recovery. Which, honestly, she kind of did. Because we didn’t just fight the pathogen. We supported the calf.
Antibiotics fight the war. Supportive care keeps the soldier alive long enough to win it.
In this barn, supportive care is MVP. No trophy. No spotlight. Just quietly saving tiny lives on the regular.