I went to bed at 8:00 last night because I could no longer deal with life. And yet yesterday was overall a good day.
Today sucked. I went to my first meeting and am currently at my highest recorded weight ever. Very scary. And then there was work.
I had two very sweet dogs come in today. The first was a 12 year old diabetic lab who was peeing blood. Yes, she had your typical diabetic urinary tract infection. But she also had a bladder wall the thickness of your average paperback. It took three needles to get through the wall to get a urine sample. So then I had to talk to her dad about the fact that she may have a bladder tumor. And when I made the mistake of mentioning an eye doctor in Spokane, I then had to explain that yes, the other vet who told him that she was not going to get her sight back was likely correct. Just because there are vets who specialize in eyes does not mean that doctor can perform miracles. Unfortunately.
The second was also an older dog who comes in because he is not feeling well, breathes like Darth Vader, and is getting some extra tumors. Well, he had laryngeal paralysis. In and of itself a big deal, but fairly treatable surgically. But not an explanation for why he doesn't feel good. So we did bloodwork. It was beautiful. Next was the radiograph. And there we go. His lungs were a disaster. It looked like someone had pelleted a million cloudy bb's into the lungs. This could be pneumonia, but given the lack of a fever or elevated white count, likely not. Probably metastases. And this owner is in the medical field so she understands what I'm talking about, and she understands the prognosis sucks. The lungs aren't good enough and the larynx doesn't work. No wonder he feels like shit.
And yet despite all of this, the evening has been good. Muddy lovey dogs just make my day. :)
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Intuitive eating...
I haven't posted for a few weeks. Amazing how time flies when you're packing, moving 800 miles, unpacking, organizing, unpacking again, starting new jobs, etc.
And I don't have any fun stories to share yet, but I do have some thoughts.
My first week here, I bought "Intuitive eating."
I'd heard about it several times on the boards. Decided it was worth a try. I am now almost done with it, and I am intrigued.
I have been on WW more or less for 9 years. Considering the fact I am currently at my highest weight, I have obviously not actually been following the plan that entire time. But it is always on my mind. ALWAYS. Every time I pick up a cookie and end up eating ten, my mind is calculating points. Every time I make popcorn, I think how much healthier it would be with EVOO instead of butter. And every time I work out, I don't feel like it was worth it unless I burn at least 300 calories.
So this is a whole new concept. Throw out dieting? Eat whatever I want, whenever I want? Sounds amazing. Also sounds unrealistic.
Except here's the thing: it's almost working. Before I started the book, I bought a pack of mint oreos. They were gone the next day. Since I've started reading it and convinced myself I'll try it and really won't go back to WW yet (therefore won't start restricting myself anytime soon), I've managed to leave reeses PB cups, those amazing pink and white frosted animal cookies, PB and cookie dough ice cream, etc. I haven't binged a single time since I started reading the book. The real test? The chocolate-no-bakes. I ate a couple yesterday, the rest are still in the fridge. I DID NOT eat the entire batch for the FIRST time in 9 years.
And who knows who long this will last. Although now there's another catch. DH and I want to start TTC again, which means I need to get some weight off. So now that I've experimented, I'm going to try to integrate. I'm going to go back to meetings. But I'm also going to try to pay more attention to what I want to eat and honor those cravings so I don't binge as frequently. And once I get pregnant, I'll start focusing on the intuitive eating again.
Not quite how they want you to do things, but I'm going to make it work. Because so far both plans have their good points. We'll see what happens.
And I don't have any fun stories to share yet, but I do have some thoughts.
My first week here, I bought "Intuitive eating."
I'd heard about it several times on the boards. Decided it was worth a try. I am now almost done with it, and I am intrigued.
I have been on WW more or less for 9 years. Considering the fact I am currently at my highest weight, I have obviously not actually been following the plan that entire time. But it is always on my mind. ALWAYS. Every time I pick up a cookie and end up eating ten, my mind is calculating points. Every time I make popcorn, I think how much healthier it would be with EVOO instead of butter. And every time I work out, I don't feel like it was worth it unless I burn at least 300 calories.
So this is a whole new concept. Throw out dieting? Eat whatever I want, whenever I want? Sounds amazing. Also sounds unrealistic.
Except here's the thing: it's almost working. Before I started the book, I bought a pack of mint oreos. They were gone the next day. Since I've started reading it and convinced myself I'll try it and really won't go back to WW yet (therefore won't start restricting myself anytime soon), I've managed to leave reeses PB cups, those amazing pink and white frosted animal cookies, PB and cookie dough ice cream, etc. I haven't binged a single time since I started reading the book. The real test? The chocolate-no-bakes. I ate a couple yesterday, the rest are still in the fridge. I DID NOT eat the entire batch for the FIRST time in 9 years.
And who knows who long this will last. Although now there's another catch. DH and I want to start TTC again, which means I need to get some weight off. So now that I've experimented, I'm going to try to integrate. I'm going to go back to meetings. But I'm also going to try to pay more attention to what I want to eat and honor those cravings so I don't binge as frequently. And once I get pregnant, I'll start focusing on the intuitive eating again.
Not quite how they want you to do things, but I'm going to make it work. Because so far both plans have their good points. We'll see what happens.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
All in a day's work
I went on a farm call today and got to see one of my old patients. And she remembered me. According to her owner, she NEVER barks at anyone. Well, she barked at me all right. She barked at me to say "I remember you, get the hell off my property."
But it was great seeing her. She was my very first hit-by-car emergency case. She came in early afternoon on a day when I was already slammed, Doc was backed up on appointments that were waiting in the lobby and no one knew where he was, and I was trying to coordinate everything. Then a guy walked through the door who was younger than me, with tears streaming down his face as he carried in his dog that had just been run over by a truck.
Her gums were white. Her heart rate sounded like a train. Her pelvis ground whenever it was moved. A needle into the abdomen came back with bloody fluid. I wanted to refer her, he had no money. I told him we had to do an exploratory because I thought she had ruptured her spleen. He quickly agreed. I had never done a splenectomy, I had never even done a real exploratory surgery by myself. But I got in there and her spleen looked beautiful. Her stomach and kidneys looked beautiful. The intestines were intact. Then I got to the bladder. It had a huge tear.
We flushed her out with about a million gallons of saline, I sewed up the bladder and then the abdominal wall, we sent her home on multiple antibiotics and pain meds with instructions to stay calm and make sure she was peeing. It took several days before we were sure she could urinate, and I spent a lot of that time on the phone with the owner. But she was okay. A few days later she was walking on 3 legs. A few months later, she was moving the 4th leg. And now, 9 months later, she's just a little gimpy.
Makes ya feel pretty damn good about what you do for a living.
Then there's the other side of the job.
I went out there today so we could vaccinate some heifers. Vaccinating for brucellosis involves tattooing and tagging the ear as well. Which cows don't like. Especially unhandled black cows. I usually have very quick reflexes, but my brain has been all over the place today. Within the first two cows, my right hand had been banged. The third cow tried to bite me. I swear to God I felt teeth going down my arm. Never mind that cows only have bottom teeth in the front of their mouth. It was the fourth cow that nailed me. She was already trying to lunge at me through the head catch. I was very carefully trying to spread ink in her ear, ready to jerk my hands back at any second, when she swung her head around as hard as she could. I didn't get my hand out of the way fast enough and she smashed the outside of my left hand between her head and a bolt in the chute.
Now, if it had just hit the rail, it would have been painful enough. But the bolt was smaller, sharper, with worse edges. It scratched the skin off my hand and I was bleeding under the glove. It took three more cows before I could even begin to move that hand again. By the time I got back to the clinic, it felt like I had stuck my hand in a fire and I couldn't move my pinky. The outside of my hand was definitely starting to look a lot bigger than the other hand. And now, nearly 12 hours later, it's turning black. And it still hurts. Especially when the cats try to rub their heads against it. I still can't move my pinky.
I tried to take a picture, but unfortunately the camera just does not do it justice.
However, injuries like this are pretty common in my job. It'll be better in a day or two. Just to be replaced by some other injury in a week or so. Such is life in the field of cow medicine. And as twisted as it may make me, I'm going to miss it. Although my body may disagree.
But it was great seeing her. She was my very first hit-by-car emergency case. She came in early afternoon on a day when I was already slammed, Doc was backed up on appointments that were waiting in the lobby and no one knew where he was, and I was trying to coordinate everything. Then a guy walked through the door who was younger than me, with tears streaming down his face as he carried in his dog that had just been run over by a truck.
Her gums were white. Her heart rate sounded like a train. Her pelvis ground whenever it was moved. A needle into the abdomen came back with bloody fluid. I wanted to refer her, he had no money. I told him we had to do an exploratory because I thought she had ruptured her spleen. He quickly agreed. I had never done a splenectomy, I had never even done a real exploratory surgery by myself. But I got in there and her spleen looked beautiful. Her stomach and kidneys looked beautiful. The intestines were intact. Then I got to the bladder. It had a huge tear.
We flushed her out with about a million gallons of saline, I sewed up the bladder and then the abdominal wall, we sent her home on multiple antibiotics and pain meds with instructions to stay calm and make sure she was peeing. It took several days before we were sure she could urinate, and I spent a lot of that time on the phone with the owner. But she was okay. A few days later she was walking on 3 legs. A few months later, she was moving the 4th leg. And now, 9 months later, she's just a little gimpy.
Makes ya feel pretty damn good about what you do for a living.
Then there's the other side of the job.
I went out there today so we could vaccinate some heifers. Vaccinating for brucellosis involves tattooing and tagging the ear as well. Which cows don't like. Especially unhandled black cows. I usually have very quick reflexes, but my brain has been all over the place today. Within the first two cows, my right hand had been banged. The third cow tried to bite me. I swear to God I felt teeth going down my arm. Never mind that cows only have bottom teeth in the front of their mouth. It was the fourth cow that nailed me. She was already trying to lunge at me through the head catch. I was very carefully trying to spread ink in her ear, ready to jerk my hands back at any second, when she swung her head around as hard as she could. I didn't get my hand out of the way fast enough and she smashed the outside of my left hand between her head and a bolt in the chute.
Now, if it had just hit the rail, it would have been painful enough. But the bolt was smaller, sharper, with worse edges. It scratched the skin off my hand and I was bleeding under the glove. It took three more cows before I could even begin to move that hand again. By the time I got back to the clinic, it felt like I had stuck my hand in a fire and I couldn't move my pinky. The outside of my hand was definitely starting to look a lot bigger than the other hand. And now, nearly 12 hours later, it's turning black. And it still hurts. Especially when the cats try to rub their heads against it. I still can't move my pinky.
I tried to take a picture, but unfortunately the camera just does not do it justice.
However, injuries like this are pretty common in my job. It'll be better in a day or two. Just to be replaced by some other injury in a week or so. Such is life in the field of cow medicine. And as twisted as it may make me, I'm going to miss it. Although my body may disagree.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The importance of respect
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. As I'm sitting here, exactly one week from my last day at work, I'm actually kind of sad about leaving. With the end in sight, all I can think about is why I liked my job. The parts I hated, the reasons I'm leaving, are slipping out of sight.
Then I get a phone call. It's from one of the new potential hires. My boss gave her my number so that she can talk to me about the job. She asks me a lot of general questions about how the clinic is run. Then she asks me some tough questions. "I've heard he has a temper?" Um, yeah. Temper is an understatement. I've seen him kick cows in the head over and over again because they were too sick to stand and this was inconvenient for him. I've heard stories of him punching a dog in the head that wouldn't hold still, and stabbing the neck of a horse with a forcep because it tried to bite him when he poked it with a needle. Stabbing to the point where they had to sew the neck up afterward. I have his dog in my living room right now, a dog who cowers whenever he walks by because he's been kicked and smacked so many times. So yeah, he has a temper.
"How are the finances?" How do I answer that? If I'm being completely honest, I say that they're awful. Like taxes haven't been paid in 8 years. He handles money worse than any person I've ever met. I've been worried that I won't be able to deposit my paychecks, and we often don't have necessary supplies because he says we don't have the money to buy them.
"How does everyone treat the clients?" Well, if someone has the gall to go somewhere else because he's out of town or too busy, he basically says "Fuck you, keep going to them then." He's always at least an hour late for farm calls, usually closer to 2, because he's "the only vet in town, so where else are they going to go?" He talks about clients he doesn't like to all the other clients, with no interest in confidentiality. It makes him feel important to make fun of one client to another.
I know I've had some issues with the secretary. But the biggest reason I'm leaving my job? I have no respect for my boss. NONE. And when I'm sitting here not sure whether I'm happy to be leaving, he's kind enough to provide me with a reminder.
We had a horse come in that started colicking after working for most of the day. It was trying to lay down, very obviously uncomfortable, sweating like crazy. The owners couldn't afford to take it to Bismarck for surgery so we agreed to watch it. And the first thing Doc did was shove some mineral oil down the stomach to relieve the obstruction that he couldn't even feel. Not how you're supposed to start. He didn't listen to a heart rate. That's your most obvious indication of pain. He didn't pass a tube. Suppose there was a twist just distal to the stomach. Passing a tube would relieve some of the pressure. Putting mineral oil in just increases the pressure and therefore the pain.
We watch the horse overnight and into the next day. He's getting worse. In a few hours, his heart rate went from 72 to 90 (it should have been less than 40). He was rolling more and more. The owner calls Doc, who's on a farm call. They still can't afford referral, so Doc offers to try the surgery. This is bad on several levels. He makes it seem like he's done tons of these. Yeah, a couple, over 15 years ago, with twice the number of people. He makes it sound like there's a good chance. My estimate was 5-10% chance of survival, if that. He refuses to let any of the owners friends, including another vet, come help even though we may have needed as many hands as we could get. (Have you ever seen horse intestines? They're HUGE.) Then the worst part? This conversation took place at 11 am. He spent the next 5 hours finishing his farm call, which was NOT an emergency, then taking the time to get lunch, talk with clients, etc.
So imagine my surprise when we go in and the intestine has ruptured. Now, I realize that as a completely last ditch resort, us going into that horse was okay. But it should have been done with the realization that chances of survival were next to none, it should have been done 5 hours earlier, and it should have been done at least semi-sterily just in case the horse survived. Having intestines strewn across a dirty floor does not count. And considering we were dealing with a pair of very poor newlyweds, I would have highly recommended euthanasia instead of a surgery they couldn't afford. Now they have a bill to pay and no horse to show for it.
My new boss is going to drive me crazy. He's not going to let me do a lot of stuff simply because I'm not the best available, and with everything else he is going to be looking over my shoulder. But I can RESPECT him. After talking to the other employees, he is a person who is easy to admire. He knows his stuff, he makes sure he is current and up-to-date, and the clients and patients are his first concern rather than acquiring as much money as possible.
So yes, I am sad to leave my job. I'm going to miss my house. I'll miss the clients and the cows. I'll miss the tech. But I will not miss a man who makes decisions and acts in such a way that I just cannot respect him. It's just too important.
Then I get a phone call. It's from one of the new potential hires. My boss gave her my number so that she can talk to me about the job. She asks me a lot of general questions about how the clinic is run. Then she asks me some tough questions. "I've heard he has a temper?" Um, yeah. Temper is an understatement. I've seen him kick cows in the head over and over again because they were too sick to stand and this was inconvenient for him. I've heard stories of him punching a dog in the head that wouldn't hold still, and stabbing the neck of a horse with a forcep because it tried to bite him when he poked it with a needle. Stabbing to the point where they had to sew the neck up afterward. I have his dog in my living room right now, a dog who cowers whenever he walks by because he's been kicked and smacked so many times. So yeah, he has a temper.
"How are the finances?" How do I answer that? If I'm being completely honest, I say that they're awful. Like taxes haven't been paid in 8 years. He handles money worse than any person I've ever met. I've been worried that I won't be able to deposit my paychecks, and we often don't have necessary supplies because he says we don't have the money to buy them.
"How does everyone treat the clients?" Well, if someone has the gall to go somewhere else because he's out of town or too busy, he basically says "Fuck you, keep going to them then." He's always at least an hour late for farm calls, usually closer to 2, because he's "the only vet in town, so where else are they going to go?" He talks about clients he doesn't like to all the other clients, with no interest in confidentiality. It makes him feel important to make fun of one client to another.
I know I've had some issues with the secretary. But the biggest reason I'm leaving my job? I have no respect for my boss. NONE. And when I'm sitting here not sure whether I'm happy to be leaving, he's kind enough to provide me with a reminder.
We had a horse come in that started colicking after working for most of the day. It was trying to lay down, very obviously uncomfortable, sweating like crazy. The owners couldn't afford to take it to Bismarck for surgery so we agreed to watch it. And the first thing Doc did was shove some mineral oil down the stomach to relieve the obstruction that he couldn't even feel. Not how you're supposed to start. He didn't listen to a heart rate. That's your most obvious indication of pain. He didn't pass a tube. Suppose there was a twist just distal to the stomach. Passing a tube would relieve some of the pressure. Putting mineral oil in just increases the pressure and therefore the pain.
We watch the horse overnight and into the next day. He's getting worse. In a few hours, his heart rate went from 72 to 90 (it should have been less than 40). He was rolling more and more. The owner calls Doc, who's on a farm call. They still can't afford referral, so Doc offers to try the surgery. This is bad on several levels. He makes it seem like he's done tons of these. Yeah, a couple, over 15 years ago, with twice the number of people. He makes it sound like there's a good chance. My estimate was 5-10% chance of survival, if that. He refuses to let any of the owners friends, including another vet, come help even though we may have needed as many hands as we could get. (Have you ever seen horse intestines? They're HUGE.) Then the worst part? This conversation took place at 11 am. He spent the next 5 hours finishing his farm call, which was NOT an emergency, then taking the time to get lunch, talk with clients, etc.
So imagine my surprise when we go in and the intestine has ruptured. Now, I realize that as a completely last ditch resort, us going into that horse was okay. But it should have been done with the realization that chances of survival were next to none, it should have been done 5 hours earlier, and it should have been done at least semi-sterily just in case the horse survived. Having intestines strewn across a dirty floor does not count. And considering we were dealing with a pair of very poor newlyweds, I would have highly recommended euthanasia instead of a surgery they couldn't afford. Now they have a bill to pay and no horse to show for it.
My new boss is going to drive me crazy. He's not going to let me do a lot of stuff simply because I'm not the best available, and with everything else he is going to be looking over my shoulder. But I can RESPECT him. After talking to the other employees, he is a person who is easy to admire. He knows his stuff, he makes sure he is current and up-to-date, and the clients and patients are his first concern rather than acquiring as much money as possible.
So yes, I am sad to leave my job. I'm going to miss my house. I'll miss the clients and the cows. I'll miss the tech. But I will not miss a man who makes decisions and acts in such a way that I just cannot respect him. It's just too important.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Ferret escapees!
When I walked into my house today, exhausted after a long day of work, this was the first thing I saw:
Now, for those of you who might not recognize it, this is the classic appearance of a little present left by a small furry animal known as a ferret. Oh crap. A ferret got out.
Then I walked into the house a little further and saw this:
This same scene was found in both bathrooms. More piles of poop were found around the house, such as this one hidden behind the toilet:
I didn't come home at lunch today and it was a long day. So technically, these piles and messes, along with the rest of the piles, could have been done by one ferret. Ferrets poop on average every 2 hours, and one ferret can get into a LOT of stuff in a very short amount of time. To support this theory, I found a ferret as I was walking back to the ferret room. And this particular ferret, Max, is known for getting into things. I even found some markers and dog toys where he had stashed them under the dog bed. Unfortunately, I didn't think to take a picture.
However, then I got to the ferret room:
Please ignore how messy the floor is. I've been busy. However, you can see that they have a lot of room to run, although usually they have even more. But when I walked into the ferret room this time? You see on the right of the picture where there's two bins of litter holding the fence against the wall? The litter bins that weigh about 30 pounds each? Yes, somehow my one pound ferrets had managed to shove that entire pile away from the wall and escaped.
Oh. Shit.
I counted ferrets. I have ten. I counted three plus the one I was holding.
There are SIX ferrets escaped into my house! Now this would normally be a problem. But right now? It's a HUGE pain in my ass because this is the state of my house:
And a close up to see just how many hiding spots are available:
Now as I've been writing, the dogs have found one more. But there are still a whole bunch of ferrets around the house, and I have no idea where.
So just in case you ever considered getting a ferret, keep in mind their super-ferret strength that allows them to move things 30 times their own weight, and the disasters they love to cause. :)
Now, for those of you who might not recognize it, this is the classic appearance of a little present left by a small furry animal known as a ferret. Oh crap. A ferret got out.
Then I walked into the house a little further and saw this:
This same scene was found in both bathrooms. More piles of poop were found around the house, such as this one hidden behind the toilet:
I didn't come home at lunch today and it was a long day. So technically, these piles and messes, along with the rest of the piles, could have been done by one ferret. Ferrets poop on average every 2 hours, and one ferret can get into a LOT of stuff in a very short amount of time. To support this theory, I found a ferret as I was walking back to the ferret room. And this particular ferret, Max, is known for getting into things. I even found some markers and dog toys where he had stashed them under the dog bed. Unfortunately, I didn't think to take a picture.
However, then I got to the ferret room:
Please ignore how messy the floor is. I've been busy. However, you can see that they have a lot of room to run, although usually they have even more. But when I walked into the ferret room this time? You see on the right of the picture where there's two bins of litter holding the fence against the wall? The litter bins that weigh about 30 pounds each? Yes, somehow my one pound ferrets had managed to shove that entire pile away from the wall and escaped.
Oh. Shit.
I counted ferrets. I have ten. I counted three plus the one I was holding.
There are SIX ferrets escaped into my house! Now this would normally be a problem. But right now? It's a HUGE pain in my ass because this is the state of my house:
And a close up to see just how many hiding spots are available:
Now as I've been writing, the dogs have found one more. But there are still a whole bunch of ferrets around the house, and I have no idea where.
So just in case you ever considered getting a ferret, keep in mind their super-ferret strength that allows them to move things 30 times their own weight, and the disasters they love to cause. :)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Life is getting good
I am not going to post the story of the day because I would gross everyone out and no one would ever want to read my blog again. Suffice it to say that I had to remove a dead premature calf from a heifer with an extremely small pelvis, and it took me over 2 hours.
But afterward I checked my email, and found the email I've been waiting for. The acceptance of my application for a rental house in Missoula. I have a place to move in to now! And I don't have to hide any of the animals because she knows about all of them!
Have you ever noticed how things seem to happen in groups? Like it seems like everything is going either wrong or right, all at once? This is how my life has felt lately.
It all started last December. I got a job, passed boards, passed my competency test, and found a place to live, all at once. Things were going pretty good for awhile.
Then in October it all changed. Well, okay, there were some pretty big swings in between, but these are the big hills/valleys. In October, we had a "staff meeting" at work that was all about how much Jenny sucks at her job. I started looking for a new job shortly after that. And to make that even better, I had just put down my favorite cat, and DH was deciding that he didn't like his job either. All at once.
Now things are back on the upswing. I got a new job. As of today, I have a place to live. All that's left is for DH to find a new job and to sell the house. But things are looking up.
And yes, that was a very brief rundown, obviously leaving out a lot of details. But the concept remains. Things happen all at once. Either everything goes wrong, or everything is going right and I sit waiting for things to change. Like there has to be a catch if things are good. Because things really can't just be this good, just like that.
I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.
At least that's what I keep telling myself. :)
But afterward I checked my email, and found the email I've been waiting for. The acceptance of my application for a rental house in Missoula. I have a place to move in to now! And I don't have to hide any of the animals because she knows about all of them!
Have you ever noticed how things seem to happen in groups? Like it seems like everything is going either wrong or right, all at once? This is how my life has felt lately.
It all started last December. I got a job, passed boards, passed my competency test, and found a place to live, all at once. Things were going pretty good for awhile.
Then in October it all changed. Well, okay, there were some pretty big swings in between, but these are the big hills/valleys. In October, we had a "staff meeting" at work that was all about how much Jenny sucks at her job. I started looking for a new job shortly after that. And to make that even better, I had just put down my favorite cat, and DH was deciding that he didn't like his job either. All at once.
Now things are back on the upswing. I got a new job. As of today, I have a place to live. All that's left is for DH to find a new job and to sell the house. But things are looking up.
And yes, that was a very brief rundown, obviously leaving out a lot of details. But the concept remains. Things happen all at once. Either everything goes wrong, or everything is going right and I sit waiting for things to change. Like there has to be a catch if things are good. Because things really can't just be this good, just like that.
I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.
At least that's what I keep telling myself. :)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
C-sections and rollercoasters
I don't have very many fun stories right now. We're just getting into calving season, so life is getting busy. I've done two c-sections in the last week. The first didn't go very well. The calf was fabulous and huge (112 lbs!!!) but mom didn't make it. The next one went great. Yesterday, we pulled some baby lambs out of a ewe who had already prolapsed twice and was all scarred up, so getting a live lamb was pretty exciting. And it was so freakin' cute!
But besides starting to get busy, life at the clinic is also being exciting for a whole other reason. Everyone is finding out that I'm leaving. And no one is happy about it, except maybe a couple of the people I work with. I have had several people comment that they are so sad I'm leaving, and they really really really don't want me to go. One client and the tech I work with both almost started crying. And this all makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
Well, that, and the fact that I CANNOT find a place to move into in Missoula. Who knew that Missoula would be so ridiculously expensive! I knew it was one of the more pricey places in Montana, but it almost out-prices Washington. Ridiculous. And given the fact that we are going to get barely anything back from this house in comparison to what houses out there cost, we're in a tough situation. We can't afford to buy. No one will rent to us with our dogs. Even when I claim that Wazzu is a heeler cross and don't mention the word "rottweiler."
This is putting me through an emotional rollercoaster. I'm sad to leave our house. I'm sad to leave the people here (well, most of them). We didn't really think we would leave, especially not this early. I'm excited to go to Missoula. I'm frustrated I can't find a house. I'm frustrated that we don't know when DH will be able to follow me. I'm not sure I'm going to love my job. I'm doing all of this- quitting and leaving everyone and struggling to find a place- all for a job I'm not 100% sure about.
But I'm doing it anyway. And today, while I was shoulder-deep in the vagina of a cow who had aborted but not cleaned out and was therefore filled with rotting placenta, with a subsequent temperature of 105.8 (for all you human people, over 102 is considered hot), I realize there are aspects of my job that I will NOT miss!
But besides starting to get busy, life at the clinic is also being exciting for a whole other reason. Everyone is finding out that I'm leaving. And no one is happy about it, except maybe a couple of the people I work with. I have had several people comment that they are so sad I'm leaving, and they really really really don't want me to go. One client and the tech I work with both almost started crying. And this all makes me wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
Well, that, and the fact that I CANNOT find a place to move into in Missoula. Who knew that Missoula would be so ridiculously expensive! I knew it was one of the more pricey places in Montana, but it almost out-prices Washington. Ridiculous. And given the fact that we are going to get barely anything back from this house in comparison to what houses out there cost, we're in a tough situation. We can't afford to buy. No one will rent to us with our dogs. Even when I claim that Wazzu is a heeler cross and don't mention the word "rottweiler."
This is putting me through an emotional rollercoaster. I'm sad to leave our house. I'm sad to leave the people here (well, most of them). We didn't really think we would leave, especially not this early. I'm excited to go to Missoula. I'm frustrated I can't find a house. I'm frustrated that we don't know when DH will be able to follow me. I'm not sure I'm going to love my job. I'm doing all of this- quitting and leaving everyone and struggling to find a place- all for a job I'm not 100% sure about.
But I'm doing it anyway. And today, while I was shoulder-deep in the vagina of a cow who had aborted but not cleaned out and was therefore filled with rotting placenta, with a subsequent temperature of 105.8 (for all you human people, over 102 is considered hot), I realize there are aspects of my job that I will NOT miss!
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