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October 10, 2002 So, here I am, at nine o'clock at night, looking at not getting to go home until almost midnight. Why, you may ask. Because, as everyone already knows, Heather can't say no. Dr. Fuller tells me he has a call to go out on, now, even though I would like to go home very badly, I offer to help him. He says that he doesn't really need the help, now, while my little brain cells are doing cartwheels, Dr. Fuller continues to talk. What does he need help with instead? He needs me to monitor a horse that has started to have an allergic reaction to the drugs we have given him. So, instead of being piled up at home on my couch, I am here, watching a horse breath. Dr. C started crying again today, but this time, she didn't try and hide it. Her cat is in ICU at the University of Georgia, in very critical condition. They took him to surgery to try and repair what has been making him so sick, and he almost died on the table. It's not looking good. I wish I could make all her pain go away. Yesterday, I got to practice my flying skills. We were laying a horse down in teh surgery room, and I was in control of her head. Well, she starts to lay down on her right side, so I move that way, ready to hold her head, when, mid fall, she switches sides, flinging me along with her. Even though I hit the floor, skidded across it, ripped my pants, and skinned my knee, that darn horse's head did not touch the ground. Through all of my flying, I held her head up. Now, that's dedication. I was reading through all of the survivor immunity challenge entries, and this writer had me pegged with this: Anyway, I better start concentrating on this horse again, even though his breathing is deffinately much better. <-//->
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