On Riding in the Rain

When I was young, I knew how to let things go.

And it was liberating.

Whatever happened to that girl?

I remember fondly weekends when the skies opened up and torrents of rain made raging rivers out of the gutters in front of our house.  Across the street, sunken valleys in the sidewalk filled and became lakes.  On very special days like this, with all other modes of entertainment exhausted, my little sister and I were permitted to ignore the usual rule of staying dry.

And so we shed our inhibitions and became water nymphs.

Barefoot and free, we ran into the pouring rain fully clothed, prepared to get as soaking wet as possible.

And so we did.

We would jump in the sidewalk lakes, splash through every puddle like our lives depended on it, and sit ourselves down in the gutter rivers.  We would dance and twirl as the drops cascaded down on our young heads; believeing that were the richest girls in the world to have a life such as this.  Who cared that we were getting drenched?  Awaiting us inside were towels and warm dry clothes.

I miss those days.

What brought this memory on?

I found myself this past Saturday taking my bike down the familiar paths of the Bear Creek Trail.  I'd eaten far too many cinnamon bread sticks from Gumby's the night before and was determined to get this ride in even though dark rain clouds loomed ahead.

Let me tell you a little about the world of the forest on this day.

It was as if it everything was heaving deep sighs of relief and contentment.  From months of drought to nearly a whole day of rain-every facet of nature found itself coming upon a brimming oasis after months of trudging through the desert.  Green abounded and the whole world was dripping.

I high-fived the trees as I rode.  They deserved it for hanging in there.

I stopped along the bridges to watch the long dry creek beds babble along with newly supplied water.  I  imagined the dance of life going on under the surface.

I made it a point to speed through every puddle created in the potholes of the trail, drenching my feet and kicking up mud everywhere.

And every time I did, I smiled and the child in me emerged.  My legs were soon speckled with muck and my shoes were soaked through.  And I felt liberated.    

About halfway along my ride, a drizzle began.

That drizzle became heavier until it was a steady downfall.

What did I do? I rode on.  Felt the drops against my face, wetting my shirt and pants and immediately cooling as the wind rushed past.

Instead of feeling uncomfortably wet or frustrated by the change in weather, I felt refreshed.

Free.

And it was one of the best experiences of my summer.

Who cared that I was getting dirty and wet?  At home, dry clothes and a shower awaited.

Sometimes we have to learn to let go.

Because in truth, a lot of the rules in our lives that cause anxiety, strife, and discomfort are ones created by the world and not ourselves anyway.

We all need days to kick off our tight and constricting shoes.  We need to walk barefoot in the mud, jump fully clothed into lakes, ride in the rain, and let nothing stop us from doing what it is we want to do.

On *sigh* (not the contented kind)

This is not a gleeful post.  So let me preface it by saying this:

I'm fine.

***

You think you've got it all worked out.

You think you've made your decision.  

You're sure that from now on, things will settle down.  Life will click.  

And you won't have to worry anymore.

All it takes is one tiny grain of conflict, careening at an unimaginable velocity, to bring your wall of certainty crashing to the ground.

But lets be honest.  You can pretend all you want that your wall was made of titanium.  In reality, it was made of paper.

Wet paper, at that.

I guess that means the wall doesn't come crashing down, but melting down.  

In slow, agonizing globules of uncertainty and doubt.

That tiny grain-you should have seen it coming.  You DID in fact. You just chose to ignore it-hoping that it would bounce right off you.  Or better yet, miss entirely.

Deep down you knew you wouldn't be so lucky.

Suddenly its happening all over again. You looked at your future (molded by the decision you were going to make) and saw contentment.  Hingent on one tiny detail.  The instant that detail is taken away, the vision becomes tainted.

Blackened, even.  

And all your planning, all your hopes and anticipations come to a screeching halt.

All because of a few choice phrases. A tiny grain.

Honestly, I'm making a bigger deal out of all this than I need to be.

THIRD. WORLD. PROBLEMS.

And all that.

Happiness is not dependent on fuzziness.

It's not dependent on the acquiring of "things".  

There is still potential for contentment.

I've found it before.

In the most unexpected of places.

***

There's a time to fight for what you want (or what you THINK you want), and a time to let go.

Because what you think you want is probably not all that you think it is.

The "want" is often deceiving because underneath it are layers of unfair expectations.  Visions of what the end result of that want is supposed to be.

And for the most part, it's all false.

"Illusions are dangerous people.  They have no flaws"

That's from Sabrina (1995).

It's only been in the past 3 years that I've become aware of the true danger of illusions.  

But like most things that are falsely appealing to us, we ignore the danger.

We wander from the path to pick the pretty flowers.  Unaware that a wolf lurks in the shadows.  

The wolf, he is idolization.  He is false perception.  

And we build up these illusions, until the resemble something flawless.  Something that could never truly exist in reality.  

And that, my friends, is how you sabotage yourself.

It's easy to spend so much time focusing on that false image of "perfection" that you ignore all the other realities surrounding you.

I've decided something.

I don't need a wing-man.

I don't need a friend encouraging false idolization.

I need a reality check.

Someone who will pull off the rose colored glasses and help me see truth.

***

These are the vague ramblings of an exhausted, 20-something female.  

They are what my brain decides it needs to spit up and spatter across the blinding lights of computer screens and mobile devices.

They are not to be taken too seriously.  

Because we all make the tiniest problems out to be the end of the world.

When really, they are nothing more than a blip on the radar of our lives.

P.S.  I'm Fine.

Just tired and disappointed.  Not a good combination.

On Hats.

At some point in the process of self discovery, you have to look outside yourself.

At the person you REALLY are.  Not the person you imagine yourself to be.

Compare that to the person you WANT to be.

Then begin to take the necessary steps to making the two images one.

It's not easy.

It's not quick.

It is possible.

Identity has been the focus of my thoughts of late.

Whatever you may know about me, it's only a small fraction of who I really am.  That's true of a good number of people, I think.

(prepare yourselves for an extended metaphor)

We all have different versions of ourselves.  Different hats we wear for the various social interactions we have.

I own quite a collection.

Some of my hats sit collecting dust.  Many of those I hope to never wear again.

Some I've re-discovered and found that I remember just how much I liked how they suited me before.

I have, as we all do, a few awkward hats.  Ones that don't become me.  Fortunately only a few people have ever had to see me in those hats.

And then there are the new hats.  Recent additions.  A few take some getting used to-and I go back in forth between loving them and thinking they make a fool out of me.

There is one in particular that is rather weighty.  I'm not sure how it suites me, because I never seem to be around a mirror when I have it on.  It feels kind of bulky, and sometimes awkward.  I'm just hoping I'll grow into it.  This hat was offered to me.  It was not something I expected.  It's one that many have worn before and many will wear after.  With it comes a great number of expectations and responsibilities, as well as a title.

And people look at you a particular way while you are in this hat.  

But I don't wear it all the time.  I mean, it IS rather conspicuous.  And the weight is exhausting.  Plus I often wear it at the same time I am wearing other hats...which just makes things all the more challenging.

All that being said, I would never give this hat away, take it for granted, abuse it, or ask to have it bequeathed to someone else.  Because right now, this is one of my most important hats and I should wear it respectfully and proudly while I have it.


I think sometimes people don't take me seriously when I wear this hat.  Or worse, they don't take the HAT seriously.  Sometimes people toss the hat casually onto my head because they like the way it looks just a little off kilter.


Maybe I'm making unfair assumptions.


I probably am.


In any case, this is a hat I am trying to take seriously.  One that I am trying to be worthy of.


There are still many hats that I wish I could acquire.  I see other people wearing them and feel pangs of envy. 


The truth is that at this point if I were to be GIVEN one of these desirable hats, I probably wouldn't know what to do with it or how it should be worn and presented; how it should be maintained and taken care of.  


I THINK I would look amazing in this hat, but perhaps it would be an acquisition I would regret because I am not prepared for what comes with the hat.


Finally, there are some hats that I had to leave behind.  Ones that were only available in the life I had before. Ones particularly suited for ocean breezes, long hikes up mountains, kayaking lakes and rivers, long walks through the woods of tall pines and prevalent birches, and solitary exploration.  I miss those hats and find myself trying to use other, unsatisfactory hats to achieve what I had.  This only leads to frustration and disappointment.  Because I can't have what I had before.  I'm in a new place, a new situation, and I have to learn to utilize that hats I DO have and not take them for granted.   




As I sift through my collection, I have been holding up several of the well worn hats that maybe need to be retired.  Or perhaps simply taken better care of.  Some I cast aside, others I put in a pile of "I'll get to you later" hats.  I find that pile to be ever growing.


Identity.


Who am I to others?  Am I the person I want them to perceive me as?  Am I to them what I wish them to be to me?  Or am I trying to force hats on them which don't fit?

Most importantly, who am I to Him?  Am I striving to be all that I can in His eyes? Or am I striving to be what I think others want me to be?

Am I more focused on the hats that I think others like to see me in, or on the hats that are of a more humble nature?


There are hats for all occasions.

For all social settings.

There are the ones we wear for all to see.

Unfortunately we often wear those hats over the ones that are more important.  The ones that show to others our truest and best qualities.  The hats that most become us are obscured by the wild hats society tells us are fashionable.

Lastly I have come to realize that some of the most important growth comes from remembering to cast aside all those self-centered tendencies we naturally incline to.


Being selfish doesn't get you as far in life as you might think.

Humans are not a solitary species.

We are meant to uplift, encourage, support, and love one another.

Look past the small central circle which encompasses only you and start looking into those larger circles which encompass all those around you.

Those you care about.

Remember that they are people too.  With just as many struggles.

Sometimes its okay to wear no hat at all but instead offer to help others with the number of hats THEY are juggling.

On Revision

Re-evaluating.

Re-focusing.

Understanding.

Recognizing.

Admitting.

Then deciding and committing.  

To taking deep breaths and let that knot in your stomach drift out of you.  Because what does it mean, really?  What is that knot but an additional burden?  It's not what you think it is.  

Nor is it evil.

It's simply...false.

A misunderstanding.

There is no bitterness.

Maybe a touch of shame.

There is no blame.

Only admission.

And a desire to come out the other side better.

A desire for clarity and peace.

The game.  The chase.  The tension.  

Is that what it's all about?  Is that what we want?  Is that how we've been conditioned?

"Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him: fret not..."

To all of you who have offered your invaluable thoughts and advice, thank you.

You're support is deeply appreciated.

Don't worry.

I'm just going through a transition.

All will be well as soon as I learn to grow up just a little bit.

On The Voice in my Head I Can't Turn Off

She's not me.

Not the real me anyway.

Or maybe she is the rawest version of me.  The one that I never reveal because she has to potential to embarrass me.

I don't know any of that for sure.  All I know is that I can't get her to SHUT UP.

She's the one in constant battle with the rational adult side of me.

It's like a tennis match in my brain.  Except the obnoxious me apparently had well endowed parents who paid top dollar for tennis lessons.  So the game is usually one sided and therefore kind of tiresome.  It's not fun to watch the adult me lose over and over again.

You wanna know the worst part?

Obnoxious me is horribly reminiscent of a teenage girl.  Those teenage girls whose first person narrative grates on every one of my nerves (like Katniss Everdeen or (dare I say it) Bella Swan).

*SHUDDER*

MAKE IT STOP!!

Obnoxious me is not nearly as self-sacrificing as she could be.  Nor is she overly emotionally skewed.  But she does tend to cycle through the same things over and over and over again.  She over thinks things.

She feels she's entitled to more in her life which makes her come off as selfish. 

She wants to make my life more complicated.

To her, it's all about "me".  What I want.  What I feel I deserve.  How unfair it is that I have to work for it.  How unfair it is that others have what I want.

She's whiny.

She's horrible.

And I can't get her to shut up.

Some tell me she's normal.

Yeah.  Sure.  Okay.

That doesn't make it any better.

This obnoxious version of me...she is full of wishful thinking and desperation.

Her mantra is: "If I set myself up to expect the worst of the situation, I will receive a delightful surprise when something better comes along rather than disappointment when nothing at all happens."

It's a bleak point of view.  One that I'm not particularly fond of.

But it's a defense mechanism. Like humor in the face of tragedy and terror.

And like those similar defense mechanisms, it usually manifests itself in childish and cringe worthy manners.

The only good thing?

I've managed to tamper nearly all the outward expression of this obnoxious self.

(Those of you who have heard her, I apologize.  PROFUSELY).

She is manifest mostly in the lines of pages and pages of notebooks.  I scrawl endlessly, hoping to expel every ounce of her onto the unsuspecting paper (what did it ever do to deserve such torture?).

But she always manages to bubble up again.

I shall never be rid of her.

Sometimes a naive voice in my head tries to convince me that once she has been satiated by obtaining all she desires, she will be quieted.

This, I highly doubt.  Because she's been around for years and every time she gets something she wants, she replaces that gap with something new.  Something MORE.

She always wants more.

So what's the trick, you ask?

Well, I'm convinced it has to do with getting adult me some crazy good tennis lessons.  Or at least more practice time.

Luckily, experience comes with age and adult me has managed to score a few wins.

Usually they come when obnoxious me least expects it.  The element of surprise is very valuable.

She will be unguarded.  Winning the game mightily.  It's match point.  She's setting up for a winning serve.  When all of a sudden, out of the blue, a rational and mature thought emerges that can't be ignored.

And just like that adult me is back in the game.

I KNOW that the people around me are just that.  People.  Human beings.  I can't be unfairly expecting things of them.  I can't wait around for other people to take steps that I could be making myself.  When immature Sarah says "why haven't THEY stepped up yet?", mature Sarah arc's the ball across the court, scoring a point with the countering thought "what have YOU been doing to make the situation better?"

Bam.

Often, other mature thoughts follow this one, like the following:

"Hey, guess what?  You're over thinking things and that's only going to make you stressed and unhappy.  Just relax."

"You've come far.  You're not perfect.  No one is.  But you have progressed.  That's something to be proud of."

"Friendship is an important part of social development and you're lucky to have the friends that you do.  Do you really need more than that at this point?"

"There are many things in your life you can focus on.  Get those things in order and when you are ready (thinking you are and actually BEING ready are very different things), you'll obtain that which you seek as long as it is sought righteously."

But Adult Sarah is not out of the woods yet.

Because obnoxious Sarah usually has a fresh round of frantic when's, why', why not's, and how's.  They are hit with desperate force, fly wildly, and yet still manage to score points in the game.

Sometimes I think I've matured.  Maybe I have a little.  But not as much as I might think.

Because lurking underneath each life discovery and personal revelation lies little miss selfish.  Little miss NOW. Little miss over-thinker.

To everything there is a season, right?  Everything in the proper order.

Right now might not be the season I think it is or believe it is supposed to be.

I've been blessed in so many ways.  In friends, in spiritual growth, in my calling, in family, in my new job.  And yet I still feel the need to ask for more?

Maybe I should stop being so greedy, huh?

I can appear rational.  Mature.  Collected.  Progressive.

But just know that underneath is this voice.

One that wont shut up.

And I'm convinced that if you knew her, you'd run away terrified.

Be glad for the therapeutic nature of writing.

On My Thoughts on a Monday Morning

I've spent the whole week listening to Coldplay.  That can only mean one thing:

I've got too many thoughts and feelings galavanting through my brain without my permission.  

And you know what THAT means?

Brain vomit.  That's what.  The mind can take only so much churning before it has to expel some of what's in there before it becomes one big, hot, complicated mess.

So forgive me.

Commence vomiting:

It's suddenly hit me.  Just what is being asked.  I'm catching a glimpse of what is required of me, and I'm not gonna lie.  It's a little scary.  And overwhelming.  Yet I know I would not be asked to do these things if there was no faith from above that I could do them.

I just finished filling out the equivalent of a personality profile on the online dating site I signed up for.  I'm not really sure why I even jumped on this particular bandwagon.  It was kind of a whim.  Done in a moment of frustration.  I have this account and I've no idea what to do with it because I'm too afraid to actually do ANTHING!  

I've been pondering the use of my Sundays.  I'm sure my activities fall under the description of "good".  But how about "better" and "best"?

I promise.  I'm not a "playah".  I just like playing Mario with company.  Especially company that makes me laugh.

I hear whats being said, and I see the merit.  I just don't know if an added piece to the board (me) is going to help much.  But I'll do what I can.

What's WRONG with me?  Seriously? Anyone?  No?  Okay then.  I guess it's time to move on to greener pastures, right?

We walk so high.  Aloof on our mountains of righteousness.  Believing we are invincible.  Ever tempting the edge.

And in a split second, that one decision, that single moment, the soft, chalky ledge gives way and we are plummeting.  Hurtling toward that dark abyss.

Because we were CONVINCED we were fine.  Convinced we had it all worked out.  Thrilled to have been sure enough in our footing to balance on that fine line.

Like an unruly child, showing off to his/her little friends.  Look what I can do!

And in seconds he/she is on the ground, knees scraped, crying at the unfair nature of it all, at the pain.  But most of all, crying from the shame of it all.

And if we were still children, how easy it would be to pick ourselves back up and wipe away the tears.  To meet everyone with a smile as if nothing had happened.  As if we had MEANT to fall.

All part of the plan, folks.

Except everything is different.

But you know what?   NO.

No more self pity.

No more lower lip stuck out and sniffling for someone to hug my problems away.

No more wishing that this or that person would be a shoulder to cry on.  Would miraculously show up and ask me how they can help make me feel better.

I brought this on myself, and I'll be darned if I'm going to force it on someone else.

It's up to me to fix things.

And fix them I will.

This life is filled with a million decisions to be made.  And you can either go running to someone else to make them for you, or you can take a deep breath and make them yourself.

You control your life and no amount of whining is going to change that.

You know what can help?  Trust.

And activity.

Trust that as we do all we can, and strive our hardest, we will be rewarded.

Not always in the ways we thing we should be.

But always rewarded.

And you know what?

I think the time for pining is over.

It's time to stop wishing you had something and complaining because you don't have it.  Either go out and take it, or think of all the things you DO have and get over it.

It's okay for things to be the way they are.  And a real adult will look at their blessed lives and say "I'm okay with this."  Instead of  "this is how I want to be blessed more".

Sorry.

I said brain vomit and I meant it.

Most of it is stuff my brain is yelling at me.

Stuff that I need to keep reminding myself of.

And things I need to just face head on instead of cowering in fear or uncertainty.  Even if they ARE comfortable waiting rooms with cushy couches, good magazines, and delicious snacks.

It's time to get OFF that cushy couch, roll up that magazine, and toss away those snacks and just....

Just....

GET IN THERE AND DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO.

There.

I think I've done enough damage for now.

On Poo Soup, Pedicures, and Familiarity

Please note: this is another long one.  It covers the intimate details of my work.  Not for the squeamish of stomach.  

The first month it over with.

I'm through that terribly awkward and stressful time in a new job where you are new and know nothing.  When you feel like you spend more time being a hindrance than a help.

I'm starting to becoming a working piece of the machine that is a veterinary clinic/groom service/pet boarding service.

That's right, we're the whole package, baby.

*ahem* anyway.  

The first month is always the longest.  Time seems to drag on because you spend so much of it worrying and feeling anxious, and TRAINING.

But NOW is the time for routine and familiarity to set in.  To start feeling comfortable enough with the job that you know what to expect and what to anticipate.

I can finally start to get a feel how each of my days is going to be.

For example.  Thursday's are my LONGEST days.  Wednesday's one of my easiest.

But for a general view in a typical day in my job, keep reading.

And be prepared to be jealous (if you've got a strong stomach).

My typical full 7am to 6pm day goes as follows.

I arrive at 6:45 and am greeted by the symphonic sounds of shrill yaps, booming barks, and pathetic yowls.

Ah, what music!  

Usually the ward attendants are already there, giving the boarding dogs their walkies and cleaning cages, divvying  rations, etc.  

I flip on some lights, turn on some machines, clock in, and if I am lucky I have a fresh batch of stool samples waiting for me in the fridge!  Nothing like the fresh smell of poo in the morning to wake you up!

Want to know how to set up a fecal sample?  It's FUN!

Step 1: get some poo.  You can obtain this from the fresh, steaming pile the animal leaves behind on it's morning walk (lucky for me, this is obtained by the owners or the ward attendants).  OR if the owner fails to pick up their pets poop, we get to stick what we call a "fecal loop" (a long plastic stick with what looks like a big eye of a needle on the end) into the animals bum.  I mean really stick it in there.  Then give it a twist.  Pull it out.  And if luck is on your side, there will be a remnant of the pets last poo on the stick.  Yummy!

Step 2: Put the poo in flotation solution.  

Step 3: Stir and break up the big chunks so that you have a nice poo soup!

Step 4: Pour into a test tube (trying not to spill any on you!)

Step 5: Spin in the centrifuge so that all the poo pieces go to the bottom of the tube and any intestinal parasite eggs float to the top. 

Step 6: Dab the flat end of a small test tube into the top of the spun poo sample.  Apply a droplet of poo sample to a glass slide set with a cover slip.

Step 7: Look under a microscope and see what you can see! (This part makes me feel so cool and sciency!)

WEE!!

Back to my day.  

Groom animals and drop-off appointments begin arriving around 7am.  While I get things prepared for the morning (check supplies, catch up on laundry, etc.) I listen for a page from the front calling me to bring back an animal.

This is the easy part.  You go to the front and if the animal is a dog, have them hop on the scale.  HOPING that they stay still for long enough that you can get a body weight.  If it's a cat you get to pry it out of it's carrier in one of the exam rooms and force it to lay still on one of the smaller scales, all the while avoiding and claws or teeth that might hinder the process.  

Appointments start at 8am.  

For a routine check up I bring both patient (the animal) and client (the owner) into an exam room, check the chart, and then cart off the dog to the treatment room where we get a blood sample (sometimes I get to draw the blood myself!!!  *excited squeal*!!) and if we must, a stool sample.  If the owner REALLY want's to make my day, we do a doggie pedicure.  

Not as nice as it sounds.  

There are a great many different "holds" we are required to learn.  There are different holds for getting blood (from the neck, from the leg, etc).  There's a hold for extracting urine from the bladder of a cat with a needle.   There's a general restraining hold.  Then there's the hold for the nail trims (if the dog is an uncooperative baby).  You have to basically force them on their side, hold their legs, and put pressure on their head with your arm so they can't get around and bite you or the person trimming the nails.

Sometimes the dog whines, sometimes it yelps.  Sometimes is SCREAMS.  Like they are dying.  Pathetic.  And more often than not, the dog squirms like its fighting for its life.  

Grand times.

Okay...so once that is all done and dandy, the dog goes back into the room with it's owner and the doctor follows.  Then you get to check the stool sample for any intestinal worms!  And find other important things to  do, all the while still taking back groom dogs and drop-off appointments making sure to write them up on the giant dry erase board so the doctors know what they still have to do.

If there is any down time between morning appointments, the doctors have you bring up a drop-off appointment and you do all that you can with them until the next appointment shows up.

If drop-offs get finished and there happen to be no appointments, the the DA's have the wonderful task of giving selected boarding dogs a complementary bath!  I've got dog bathing down to a 5-10 minute science!  

The idea is NO DOWN TIME.  No time wasted.

After morning appointments, around 10:00 or 11:00, the doctor who isn't in surgery does all the drop-off appointments with the help of me or one of the other DA's.  That can involve anything from helping shave a dogs hot spot to getting a urine sample for a complete urinary analysis (it's fun, you catch the pee in a ladle!).  

Sometimes I get to help hold a dog for an X-Ray!  I get to wear a lead apron and gloves and all.  And then I get to process the films in a dark room with the red light and smelly chemicals.  Yeah, I'm awesome.

Some days we have dentals.  Yep.  That's right.  I'm now a dental hygienist.  BE JEALOUS.  Because there is no better smell than the reek of rotting dog teeth.  It's a VERY distinct smell and one they should not make into a scented candle anytime soon.

Basically dentals go as follows.  We put the dog or cat under anesthesia (so we don't get our fingers all bit off and everything).  First we scrape off all the tarter.  Sometimes there is very little and this is easy.  Sometimes it's like hacking off a thick protective shell that the dog has developed around it's teeth.  Gross.  But very satisfying as you chisel it off.  Then you "scale" the stains and remaining tartar off.  This is a tool that uses high frequency sound waves to blast the stuff into oblivion.  It's VERY hot and very damaging if you get it too close to the animals gums.  I was terrified to use it at first!  THEN, you get to use the oh so nice looking pokey tool (that's the technical term for it) to get under the gums to check for residual tartar build up, mobile teeth, or pockets in the gum line.  There is a lot of bleeding and it makes it a little unnerving...but you have to convince yourself it's normal.  Then it's the doctors turn. They check the gums themselves and *shudder* extract any really bad teeth (like a fractured canine...we see that in cats a lot).  Seriously, I don't get squeamish around much.  But teeth extractions?  I can BARELY WATCH.  Drilling?  Fah-ged-ah-boud-id!

After all that's done it's a good old fashioned polish with close to the same stuff they use on people.  I imagine it tastes disgusting...it always does.

You know where these animals get off easy?  The fluoride treatment!  No sitting there for 5 hours with those trays of the nastiest tasting goop in creation sitting on your teeth while you gag as the stuff runs down your throat.  Nope.  They get this foam that you rub over the teeth and it sits there for as long as it takes for the animal to wake up.  JEALOUS.

Now that I feel comfortable doing them, dentals are kind of fun.  But I've only done maybe 8 now and I have already seen some REALLY nasty mouths.  How the owners let it GET that bad, I don't know.

Same thing with ears. I've seen some ears that will keep you up at night.  And guess who gets to clean them out with cotton balls?  That's right.

Me.

If you are helping in surgery you get to prep patients-wash and shave surgery sites, mask them for anesthesia , hold their mouth open by the lips so the doctors can insert the tube to inflate their stomachs, move and monitor the patient, help keep things running smoothly and making sure things are clean and sterile.  

Today I got to use the thermal-cautery unit!  It look like a pen and has a hot little tip that you apply to nicked vein or artery.  Ah, the smell of singed innards...

It was kind of scary.  I had no idea what I was doing.  But I did it.

After you spend the surgery watching them cut into the animal and remove what they need to remove (be it testicles, ovaries, tumors, etc) you clean up.  That parts isn't that exciting.  

PHEW!  Now it's just the end of the morning.

I get a 45 minute lunch-I bought this new awesome Star Wars lunch box.  All metal and vintage looking.  BEST $7 I've ever spent.  

I go outside across the parking lot under a tree in the grass.  I sit, eat, and read.  It's only 45 minutes but it's nice.  

Back from lunch.  Deep breath.  

Now comes the quiet time.  The doctors are calling clients back about their pets and then going to lunch so there are no appointments.  The DA' s get to check in the mail (meds, supplies, vaccines, etc).  All the stuff that comes in.  We label it and put it away.  Oh the joys of inventory!

We do Heartworm tests if it's Monday, Wednesday, or Friday (this REALLY makes me feel like a scientist!  There are pipettes, timers, droppers, solutions, blood spinning, etc.  I actually really like doing it).  The only part I don't like is then calling all the owners back to let them know the results (which have always been negative since I've been there, thank goodness!).

If need be, I pull up vaccines.  Just another example of an activity that makes me feel super doctor-y.  You use a syringe with the needle and flick out the air bubbles and all that.  Man.  It just doesn't get any better.  Unless you accidentally stick yourself, which I have totally NEVER done.

I check over things.  Walk dogs if I have time.  Make sure the exam rooms are ready for afternoon appointments.

Then the afternoon is basically the opposite of the morning.  Instead of dogs coming IN, dogs are going home looking all pretty and stuff.  This is my favorite part of the day.  They are all SO EXCITED to leave and see their owners!  It's adorable.  Appointments are usually the same (sometimes something EXCITING happens and you get diarrhea'd on by some insane dog that thinks you're there to murder it, other times things go smoothly).

All the while sweeping, mopping, fecal samples, blood work, general cleaning, and laundry are going on.  And we begin to prepare to shut down for the night.

On a good night we are out of there between 6:00 and 6:15 pm.

If an emergency comes in like a dog with a gaping wound from a dog fight or a cat with a fish hook up it's nose, we're there longer.

It happens.

We take out the trash, clean all the fecal loops and fecal sample test tubes, used syringes to be saved for later use in less sterile things, counters, etc.  Turn things off, and then head out.  If it's Thursday we get to carry out any euthanized pets to be "disposed of".  I'll let you figure out what that means.

I think that's about it.  That's what a long day in the life of me is like.

Working where I work is great.  I'm learning all these new things and I've barely scratched the surface!  Don't ask me questions, I'm no the doctor.  Though I do know a FEW things now.

Everyone there is pretty relaxed and fun to work with.  We help each other out and things run smoothly most of the time.

Sometimes, when things go wrong, we get a lecture from Dr. Mo.  He's known for his lectures.  And tangents.  But he's a funny guy who likes his country music and sometimes wears a camo bandanna to surgery.

Working with Dr. Mc is like working with the most encouraging and validating best friend ever.  100% positive reinforcement.  And she laughs at your jokes like they are actually funny!

The only thing I don't do often is work at the front desk.  That's because that actually requires that you have knowledge to answer peoples questions.  Which I don't have yet (and everyone else knows more than me).  I'll get there.

But I'll take stool samples and urine analysis over answering the phones any day.

ANY.  DAY.

Okay.  Time to end this post.

This was the right call.  I knew that I waited for a reason.  And while I still get paid hourly, this is a full time job.  One that I enjoy.  One that is giving me valuable experiences.

One that I hope I get to keep after my 3 month evaluation in June.

Who would have thought I'd end up here, right?