Where do boobs go in the Winter?
Traditionally, I have opened this draft and stared at it blankly loads over an extended period of time (hullo, January!) and I still can't fathom what I want to write about. Well, I do know what I want to write about, as it happens, I want to finish my S. Francisco + Vancouver story but maybe I only have a small allotment of words and they're being gobbled up by Facebook in minute increments? Until just now all that stood here was: A while ago I put up a different profile pic on FB and realised it looked as though my boobs were gone. Then I have that one pic taken last Summer where I could be smuggling canteloupes. Could be the mammary equivalent of the sock in the machine phenomenon for the former but it's probably just the angle. Still with the WTF though. I don't even remember writing it but you can see how it might hamper the posting of actual words...
I have been slowly buying dental tools so I can start toothfairying the bloody hell out of unsuspecting exotic mammals. It's terrifying. It all is terrifying, still, a colleague told me that right after she started teaching surgery at the uni and working at the clinic she'd have to pull over and vomit every morning, every single morning, blessed be. She says the panic abates, I believe her. I'd like a date though because I feel like the people who trust me with little lives are absolutely mental. My internship was hands off the animals and thingies for the most part so it didn't really function as a transition of any sort. The first day I was alone in a clinic was one of the worst days of my life, no exaggeration, every time I heard the vet tech footsteps I prayed, literally Dear-God prayed, it wouldn't mean a new patient. I too felt like vomiting would be a very fitting statement. The colleague who hired me told me a while ago that they need to trust that we have at least learnt enough not to kill any pets, everything else can be fixed. Not really much in the way of comfort is it, despite it being so true. I think it is because it is so true. The weekend after I finally was able to stand without my legs buckling from the vilest, longest bout of flu I've had in 15 years I worked for 29h straight at a vet hospital. Well I did sleep for 4 of those but it didn't really feel like rest. I was replacing a colleague and around 3 am, as I stood completely alone looking at the cages, it occurred to me suddenly that in the clinic I can send off the really sick animals to the hospital but, as it turned out, right there and then I was the hospital. I'm surprised I still have adrenal glands.
A colleague started an internet Funny Vet Stories and it morphed into another group for clinical cases. Apart from it being a marvellous thing to have happen to me on a personal level, the joy of new friends is immense and my God, the funny people I've met, put a lot of discombobulated, underpaid, overworked, burnt out vets together and hysterics are guaranteed, I have been learning exponentially. Every day I read those posts and marvel at the things I actually do know. Every day I read those posts and am certain, from my bone marrow outwards, that I'll never know as much as they do, some of them are gods!, I'll never even know enough and I feel like the stupidest, most ignorant person that ever walked this earth in a lab coat or scrubs and have I mentioned the bit where I'm entrusted with actual lives? Like I said, a date would be nice.
Meanwhile, it's not only February (though I remain hopeful, as I do every year) but also 7 am. The birds are broadcasting their jest for life and I am knackered and awake from not having slept at all yet, and mentally composing a poem where I osculate insomnia right on its fucking mouth.
I have been slowly buying dental tools so I can start toothfairying the bloody hell out of unsuspecting exotic mammals. It's terrifying. It all is terrifying, still, a colleague told me that right after she started teaching surgery at the uni and working at the clinic she'd have to pull over and vomit every morning, every single morning, blessed be. She says the panic abates, I believe her. I'd like a date though because I feel like the people who trust me with little lives are absolutely mental. My internship was hands off the animals and thingies for the most part so it didn't really function as a transition of any sort. The first day I was alone in a clinic was one of the worst days of my life, no exaggeration, every time I heard the vet tech footsteps I prayed, literally Dear-God prayed, it wouldn't mean a new patient. I too felt like vomiting would be a very fitting statement. The colleague who hired me told me a while ago that they need to trust that we have at least learnt enough not to kill any pets, everything else can be fixed. Not really much in the way of comfort is it, despite it being so true. I think it is because it is so true. The weekend after I finally was able to stand without my legs buckling from the vilest, longest bout of flu I've had in 15 years I worked for 29h straight at a vet hospital. Well I did sleep for 4 of those but it didn't really feel like rest. I was replacing a colleague and around 3 am, as I stood completely alone looking at the cages, it occurred to me suddenly that in the clinic I can send off the really sick animals to the hospital but, as it turned out, right there and then I was the hospital. I'm surprised I still have adrenal glands.
A colleague started an internet Funny Vet Stories and it morphed into another group for clinical cases. Apart from it being a marvellous thing to have happen to me on a personal level, the joy of new friends is immense and my God, the funny people I've met, put a lot of discombobulated, underpaid, overworked, burnt out vets together and hysterics are guaranteed, I have been learning exponentially. Every day I read those posts and marvel at the things I actually do know. Every day I read those posts and am certain, from my bone marrow outwards, that I'll never know as much as they do, some of them are gods!, I'll never even know enough and I feel like the stupidest, most ignorant person that ever walked this earth in a lab coat or scrubs and have I mentioned the bit where I'm entrusted with actual lives? Like I said, a date would be nice.
Meanwhile, it's not only February (though I remain hopeful, as I do every year) but also 7 am. The birds are broadcasting their jest for life and I am knackered and awake from not having slept at all yet, and mentally composing a poem where I osculate insomnia right on its fucking mouth.
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