April 01, 2006
I know it's been forever since I updated, but I am still reading everyone's diaries. Promise. I'm a lot more active over at live journal, so once again, if you want to keep up with me, just ask for the address.
Here are a bunch of entries cut and pasted from over there:
Today is the first day I have actually gotten out of bed for more than ten minutes in a week. Me and the flu just don't mesh well together. My dogs have thoroughly enjoyed lounging around with me all day. I still don't feel great, but at least I the room has stopped spinning.
Speaking of my animals, the person who bought the property I board my horse at cracks me up. She generously let me stay there for the same price and everything. It was a very convenient area, and I liked that it was private property instead of a boarding stable. Anyway, she completely spoils my horse. Since I haven't even made it out of my bed in a week, I haven't been up to see my horse, but I've called to make sure everything was okay. Well, when I called today, Judy starts telling me that she went and bought another salt block, because the only one we had was at the front of the pasture, and she hated to make poor Elisa walk all the way from the back of the pasture just to get to the salt block. She also asked me if I minded if she gave my horse a bath. Her grandson also goes out every night and picks Elisa's feet. I swear, all I have to do is show up once in a while and pet my horse, they do everything else. I was planning to actually ride her this week, for the first time in two years, but instead I got the plague flu(I actually wrote /plague instead of /strike...heh). It's nice, however, to have her at a place where I don't worry about her at all. These people are awesome. Judy was even telling me about waking up yesterday morning, and not seeing Elisa out the window. Elisa is normally in the front pasture in the morning, and the back pasture at night. She ran out in her pajamas just to make sure Elisa was okay. It's comforting that she has paid that much attention to my horse's routine.
March 18- Nickelback, Chevelle, and Trapt
My ears are ringing and I have a slight headache, but man I love concerts. Of course, since I still have lingering effects of the plague I've had for the past two weeks, I am probably going to pay for this night of fun by getting horribly sick again tomorrow. It was worth it though. Although I actually almost got into a fight. *gasp* That's right, shy, quiet, sweet little me. Some girl just reminded me why I hate people, especially drunk people who walk in front of me, when there was no room to begin with, then begin to jump around and try of head bang. Then, when she runs into my elbow, she get's pissed at me, and purposely elbows me in the stomach. I took my hands, and shoved her away from me, and then grabs her big burly boyfriend and starts pointing at me. I'm 5'1 on a good day, and 103 pounds, are you telling me you need your 6 foot boyfriend to protect you from me. Gah. Luckily, Dr. C switched places with me, and since Dr. C is scarier than me, they ended up moving. I also had some random guy try and hit me up for my phone number. *shakes head* I swear, it seems the dumpier I look, the more people I have hit on me. Anyway, I am going to bed, and cross your fingers that I don't relapse and get sick all over again.
(And yes, I realize that this whole entry is horribly rambly and run on sentence-y)
The sci-fi channel has decided to start airing episodes of Dr. Who, and after listening to Riayn talk about how great it was, I had to give it a shot. It is a really cute little show, me likes it muchly. So, I have yet another show to add to my freakishly long list of shows that I must watch. Although, the sad thing is, it's one of those shows that when you try to explain the plot you get someone looking at you going, 'You seriously watch that?' Oh well, yay for British tv shows.
I was rewatching House-'Sex Kills' today for the hundredth time and I noticed a blooper. I am sure a million people have already noticed it, but I am still proud of myself for catching it. Anyway, when Wilson is sitting at the clinic desk and House is making all the comments about his shirt being ironed, Wilson's sleeves are rolled up. When Wilson stands up, however, his sleeves are down and properly buttoned. Just an interesting little tidbit.
I actually feel somewhat better today...finally. Dr. C decided that the vibrations from the concert loosened up all the gunk in my sinuses, thus making me feel better. She cracks me up. She got to my house late, as usual, and when we got in my truck, she very quietly asks if I would mind stopping to get her something to eat. She then goes, 'if that's a problem, I brought some pop tarts.' As if I would deny her a somewhat decent dinner (if you can call McDonald's decent). Everyone thinks she's this big bitch, but half the time she reminds me of a shy, insecure child. She is so much like House to me, it's freaky.
I finally got brave and checked Rowdy's glucose yesterday. I've been worried he was developing diabetes. He's started to get some cataracts, and he's been slightly more aggressive toward the other dogs. We had a dog come into the clinic a few weeks ago that displayed the same general symptoms, and she ended up having a severe case of diabetes. Luckily, Rowdy's blood sugar was completely normal. It looks like he is just getting older. *hugs teh puppy*
ETA- I was watching a movie on tv, and this guy brings his dog to the vet for is 'annual parvo shot'. The vet pulls out this 12cc syringe full of something to vaccinate the dog. Heh, I don't know what they are using, but it sure isn't the 1cc dose of parvo vaccine. This is why I cringe every time a vet is on a movie, people never do their research. I also love when tv vets can just look at an animal and know that it's dying of cancer. *rolls eyes*
We had a euthanasia yesterday that just kind of bothered me. A guy brought his dog in for yearly vaccines, and said he had noticed her squatting frequently to pee. He asked if we could check her for a UTI while she was there. Me and another tech walked the dog outside to catch a urine sample, and while the dog would squat, no urine was coming out. With this news, we took her in the back to grab an x-ray to make sure her bladder wasn't ruptured, or there wasn't a blockage. After looking at the x-rays, Dr. C handed them to me and told me to tell her what I saw. The fact that I could do easily point out every thing that was wrong was not really good news. The bladder was huge, and right in the center were a TON of stones, varying in size from half dollar to pea. In her urethra was a stone the size of a quarter, completely blocking her. We offered surgical treatment to the owner, but he didn't have the money for all the treatment necessary, so we euthanized. It was just so weird, he brought this happy, healthy dog in for a vaccines, and an 'oh by the way' UTI, and went home with a coffin. She must have overnight, or early that morning because she was not yet acting overly painful for uncomfortable. She kept wagging her tail the whole time we euthanized. It just really affected me. It's so much easier when they are actually acting sick. I just can't imagine what it must be like to bring a dog in for routine stuff, thinking nothing about it, and go home without a pet...
Okay, enough with the depressing stuff. They finally hired a new kennel help girl that's worth while at the clinic. The first person they hired, Jenny, is slower than molasses. It's almost torture to work with her because she is so incredibly slow with everything she does. I know she is just learning, and I am trying to not get frustrated, but as the clock gets closer and closer to seven thirty or eight, over an hour after we should have been done, I can't help it. Anyway, the newer girl, Kate, is awesome. I was a little weary when I heard she was still in high school, because we never seem to have any luck with high school kids, they don't take the job serious enough. She proved me wrong, however. On Tuesday, I was stuck in x-ray hell. It seemed like every patient we had needed a billion x-rays, so it was getting closer and closer to 6pm, and I was just finishing up with the last series of x-rays. I walk out of radiology, and Kate comes up and goes, 'everything is done except ICU (which she isn't allowed to do yet) and cleaning radiology.' It was such a change from the previous kennel help that I couldn't help but grab her in a big hug and proclaim my undying love for her. I think she thought I was crazy, but oh well. I'm sure my craziness was cemented in her eyes as Dr. C and I got into one of our fake little snark fests, which ended with Dr. C shooting me a bird and telling me 'up yours.' Heh. Kate seems to get along with everyone, and hopefully her great work ethic will last, and not peter out like so many others have.
Dr. F and I have had a bit of a love/hate relationship. Some days he is a complete jerk to me, and other days he is so nice I wonder if I just imagined all the backhanded crap he's pulled. Anyway, I try to avoid working with him, when I can, because he just frustrates the heck out of me. Anyway, today, I had to work with him, and it turned out to be a very amusing experience. Toward the end of the day we had a kitty come in that I am pretty familiar with. The cat has always been a bit of a jerk, but today, when I picked him up out of his cage, he cried out like he was in pain. When I reached under his abdomen to lift him into a standing position to get a temperature, it felt a bit like his bladder was extremely enlarged. Because he was so painful acting, I didn't really want to torture him by properly palpating to see if it was in fact the bladder. I asked the owner if he she had seen him pee recently, or if he had been straining, etc. She hadn't noticed, but she also has five other cats, so it was hard to no for sure. I mentioned this to Dr. F before he came into the room. He palpated the kitty's abdomen, and said he felt a mass, but that it didn't feel in the right spot to be the bladder, and that he was worried about kidneys or a foreign body. I took the kitty back to snap an x-ray or two. When I got the radiographs out of the processor, I took and look, and what do ya know, HUGE bladder. Mwahaha. It is so rare that I call it, when the doctor doesn't. Strike one, Dr. F. After getting consent to treat, we take the kitty in the back and sedate him. Dr. F then goes around looking for tomcat catheters. He got all frustrated, complaining that there weren't any in the clinic, and why couldn't we keep important stuff in stock, blah blah blah.. I could have sworn we had like seven or eight a week ago, and no blocked kitties have come in, so I couldn't figure out what had happened. I decided to look behind Dr. F on the off chance he had overlooked them. I opened the drawer clearly marked urinary catheters to see the aforementioned handful sitting patiently in the drawer. I walked up and calmly handed one to Dr. F, snickering like crazy on the inside. When he asked where in the world I had found them, I pointed to the clearly marked drawer (the same one we have used for four years). Heh, he just kind of mumbled some excuse and took it out of my hand. *snort* Strike two, Dr. F. Then, after he finally got the catheter passed, he was trying to get blood. The kitties BP was a bit low, so we were having trouble getting a vein to pop up. After the fourth stick, Dr. F gave me the syringe, and says 'You can try if you want, I am going to go and call back the emergency that paged me. When I get done, I'll just do a jugular stick, or you can, or whatever, but I doubt we'll get it from the back leg.' So, he walks out, I find the vein and get plenty of blood right away. Ahem. Strike three, Dr. F. He was a good sport about everything. Some days you have it, some days you don't, but it was a nice ego boost for me.
We were all getting a bit slap happy toward the end of the day, which was when the blocked kitty came in. Dr. C was in helping Dr. F with the catheter, and Libby was pushing saline through the urinary cath to help break up the crystals. Libby kept pushing the saline before Dr. F was actually in the urethra, so Dr. C made the comment that 'Libby has premature ejaculation issues.' *snort* Dr. F started laughing so hard he couldn't get the catheter into the penis, which of course made us laugh that much harder. And speaking of the penis, the whole time Dr. F was placing the catheter, he kept calling the kitty a she, because he does have a bit of a girly name. I made the comment that Dr. F was the only person I knew that could be fondling an animals genitals, and still call it the wrong sex. That comment, of course, just set us all back to giggling again. Slap happy vets and techs are amusing.
So, yeah, work today was fun. It's better than yesterday, which involved a yearling rearing at me and striking out with both front feet. I have to admit, I might have enjoyed his castration a little too much. The only downside is that Dr. F is so slow about castrating. With Dr. C, I very rarely have to dose her horses with extra ketamine, they normally stay under with one dose and a bump of sedative. I had to give ketamine to this castration five times, as well as three sedative bumps. The fact that it was windy and cold didn't really help either. Then, when I got back to the clinic, Dr. F informs me that we have one goat to dehorn, and one to castrate. I hate working with goats. They smell, and always seem to be either waking up or dying under anesthesia. They just don't seem to ever have a nice even plane. Both procedures went good, luckily, except I smelt goat dehorning all day. To dehorn, we basically burn the area where the horns are down to the bone, so you get that lovely burnt flesh and hair smell. It just clings to your clothes, as well as the clinic all day long. I couldn't wait to get into the shower last night.
So, the kitty I was talking about in the last post died tonight. He was looking pretty bad when I got there for evening treatments, and the doc told me to just watch him closely, and left to go out on a horse emergency. About fifteen minutes after the doctor left, Peaches went into a massive seizure. When he came out of it, he began agonal breathing. Kate, the new girl, was there training, and she didn't quite understand why I completely freaked out when he started breathing like that. I got the kitty intubated and began to breath for him. I tried to call Dr. F on his cell, but couldn't get an answer. I finally got in touch with Dr. C who told me which drugs to push and such. I pretty much knew Peaches was already gone, but as I am not a doctor, it's not really my place to call it. Dr. F called me back shortly after I had lost a heartbeat for the first time. I told him what was going on, what drugs I had given him, and informed him I had had to do CPR. Dr. F told me to keep going until he could get back and speak with the owner. I basically ended up working on Peaches for 45 minutes until Dr. F finally got in touch with the owner and told us to stop. Peaches died about four minutes later. We think his kidneys were just way too far gone when he got in, and that coupled with the stresses of anesthesia were just too much for his body to handle. Poor Kate was overwhelmed. That's not exactly what you are expecting when you are training. It's good experience for her, I guess. I felt bad, because when Peaches went agonal, I let out a long string of cuss words, and Kate thought she had done something wrong, and I was yelling at her. Once she realized what was happening, she just tried to stay out of my way. The worst part is I know this cat, and his owner personally. She has several other cats, and I got over and trim nails for her. Peaches was a notorious jerk, but he was lovable. I called her on my way home from the clinic and told her how sorry I was, and I basically broke down and cried with her. I told her I was with him the whole time, etc. Just...fuck. Dr. C told me to call her when I left the clinic, so I did. She knew I was going to beat myself up over it, and wonder if there were something I could have done. Logically, I know I did everything right, but still... Dr. C basically told me I was being ridiculous, and she reassured me that I did fine. Poor Dr. F wasn't sure what to do with me. This crap always seems to happen on his weekends on call. He pulled me to the side, and goes 'I am so sorry this fell on you. You don't deserve it.' I just hate for patients to crash when there is no doctor there. It's not that I don't know what to do, but it's nice to have the doctor to refer to. I don't know, you always wonder, 'was there something I didn't catch, could I have done something different?' So, anyway, tonight just really fucking sucked.
The past week has been crazy.
Monday began with the transformer in front of my house exploding, as in catching the ground on fire, call 911 quick exploding. Luckily, there was a fire truck on the way to another non emergency call that was in the area, so they were able to put the fire out before it spread to the oh so nice dry and dead kudzu that was inches away. That was little freaky. Then, I was sitting on my computer when I hear this weird sound. I am surprised to find a waterfall coming through my ceiling. Apparently, a bolt in my mom's toilet had broken, so the water was pouring down through the ceiling into my library. And, if that wasn't enough to make my Monday oh so wonderful, my truck decided to die on me, again.
Tuesday was good, no animals died while I was working. Meh, I'm not usually so bitter about animal deaths, but Peaches' death just really affected me. I think it was just that I knew him, and I felt so helpless when he was crashing. Then there was House, which brightened my mood muchly. I am too lazy to write any type of review, but just go on any House/Wilson journal and imagine I wrote those comments ;)
Wednesday, I got my truck back from the shop $974 later. I know I should just get a new truck, but I love my truck. I figure once I finish replacing each and every part in the engine, it will last me for another ten years. How's that for logic?
Thursday, my mom went in to have her gaulbladder removed. It was supposed to be a routine surgery. Roger called me to tell me she was fine and out of surgery, so I was going about my morning routine, getting ready for work, when he calls back. He told me something was wrong, that her blood sugar had soared to above 500, and that they were afraid to extubate her. Of course, since he has no medical knowledge what so ever, he didn't know what to ask beyond that. I was also having to guess what was going on, because he kept getting confused with the medical terms. So, he was able to tell me just enough to scare the crap out of me, but no enough to really tell me what was going on. I am imagining the worst possible scenario, trying not to break down into tears. I asked if I needed to come up there, and Roger said no, that he wanted to get some more information. An hour later, I am sitting by the phone on pins and needles waiting for him to call me. I finally called him and asked what was going on. 'I don't know, I'm just sitting in the ICU waiting room, and no one is talking to me. They were supposed to move her up from recovery, but they haven't done it yet.' So, I am then trying to figure out if that's good or bad. Either she was doing better and they were just going to finish recovering her in recovery, or she was so critical that she wasn't stable enough to move. I finally told him to find me a doctor to talk to, or to get me some information. The doctor finally talked to him, and said Mom was fine, her blood sugars were coming down, she was breathing better, and they were going to extubate her, her kidneys were functioning again, etc. She had had a rough time at the end of the surgery. Her blood pressure had completely bottomed out, her blood sugar had sky rocketed, she developed acidosis. Luckily, she bounced back from it quickly. It just scared the crap out of me. All I could think about was my grandmother going in for surgery and coming out with a massive stroke. I was so afraid that was what was going on with mom. She's coming home today, however, thank goodness.