The Week in Review

     SAT.&SUN.:  I likely spent a total of 12-14 hours studying at the Pitt School Rd. Starbucks.  What I like about studying somewhere like Starbucks is that it allows you to fool yourself into thinking you aren't the saddest person on the face of the earth.  Why is this?  1. You aren't holed up in your house and are therefore usually forced to wear socially appropriate attire (i.e. you have to get out of your pajamas).  2. The people around you are at least going through the motions of normal life.  This allows you to somehow feel that you too are a part of normal life.  The harsh reality is felt most acutely when they actually leave the shop, and you remain.  3. You offer yourself something to look forward to in the form of both helpfully caffeinated and delicious beverages.  So there I sat, spending the majority of the weekend in denial, while studying both for surgery and the surgery and anesthesia final.

     

     MON:  Surgery day.  It is possible that in light of performing surgery the universe bestows on one a measure of confidence that they should not normally have.  That is how it came to be that it wasn't until I was scrubbing in for my surgery, my cat anesthetized by Dr. Surgeon-Anesthetist Jones, my assistant Dr. Surgeon-Anesthetist Smalls scrubbing in beside me, that the question finally came to me, "What the hell am I doing?"  I turned to Smalls, "Am I about to do surgery?" "Yes you are," she said with way too much confidence in me.  Apparently the universe gives other people confidence for you too.  

     I entered the OR and all that I could think was, "Act like you've seen other surgeons act."  So I asked Jones how the patient was.  The patient was stable.  I asked Smalls for my scalpel and I opened my patient's abdomen.  Luckily, that's what I was supposed to do.  I had a brief moment of panic when I struggled to exteriorize the bladder.  After that, Smalls and I followed the steps and before I knew it, I was putting in my last skin suture.  What a rush.

     

     TUES:  Surgery and Anesthesia final.  Not as bad as I was expecting considering it covered 6 labs and 20 lectures.  That night, exhausted as I was I went out to Sushi with some friends.  Several people in the class were celebrating birthdays and it was a great opportunity to have some fun, some good food and catch up with my friend Marianne.  Sushi was followed by a trip to the best frozen yogurt I've ever had, Yolo Berry.

    WED.&THUR.:  Two days of 8am to 5pm class.  Both of which ended with Neurology lab.  Neuro isn't my favorite subject to begin with and Thursday's neuro lab was an evil disguise for what was actually 3 hours of lecture.  

     FRI.:  Friday was a light class day.  So I took Poppy for a run in the late morning around our orchard and then came back to school for my afternoon Ophthalmology lab.  The lab was held in the OR suite and we were welcomed by the site of each table proudly displaying a dog's head.  Only the head.  We performed a total of 6 procedures.   The most involved was a lateral enucleation.  In this procedure, you remove the entire eyeball.  Yah, it was a little creepy but also sort of fun.

     SAT.:  I spent the day with other students and some awesome doctors in Glen Ellen performing equine dentistry on horses at a Thoroughbred rescue farm.  I am still incredibly sore from wielding the mighty power floats that we use to take down the points on the horse's teeth.  It is a lot harder than it looks to do dentistry, but I feel like I started to get the hang of it towards the end.  

     SUN.:  Saw a painful return to my pilates workout video.  My goal this time however is quite different than in times past.  Previously, I was seeking to look good.  Well, mission accomplished.  Ha ha, just kidding.  Seriously though, I need to have a strong core for the kind of veterinary work I'm going to do in my life.  So I'm getting ready.  I also went to see the new Harry Potter movie with my roomy.  It was awesome.  The best one yet.

So in Summary: Starbucks, first surgery, surgery&anesthesia final, sushi, friends, frozen yogurt, lecture, neurology, running, removing eyeballs, equine dentistry, movie, pilates and soreness (i.e. an average week as a UCD vet student).

The Results of My First Cat Spay

SURGEONS

     Surgeons.  So much mystery.  So much wonder.  What makes them who they are?  What is the secret to this unshakable confidence?  Their bad-ass reputation and star-like quality makes them a focal point of the medical world.

     A slight breeze rustles the fallen leaves on the ground.  With a woosh, they swirl upward in preparation for the oncoming greatness.  U2's opening to Zoostation begins as, in slow motion, the green-scrub-clad legs step toward you.  Their pace is steady.  You are caught up like the leaves in this moment and all the world seems to shift into slow motion.  You trace upward as the music, the motion, the leaves rage onward and there, feet away from you . . . . is the surgeon.

     Today friends, today, I get a taste of the inside world of this Being of mythological proportions.  Today, I am THE SURGEON.  Are you curious?  Well, Its true.  I woke up feeling different.  In preparation for anesthesia, I was flustered, as you may recall.  I felt there was so much that could go wrong.  It didn't.  Anesthesia was great.  I got to micro-manage everything.  Subtle changes in gas administration, monitoring things at five minute intervals, my obsessive compulsive disorder was in full swing and on fire.  Today, I feel like I'm going to do my thing.  Could things go wrong?  Sure.  But I don't think it will.  The mysterious confidence has taken me over. . . . and I LIKE IT.

Why Women Hate The Gas Station

     I'm not a car savvy woman.  I figure I have gone above and beyond the expectations of most men in the realms of sports, schooling and general coolness and feel no great need to push the envelope by changing my own oil.  Please.
     When I was a little girl, I loved going to the gas station.  My mom would pull the blue wagon up to the pump, roll down the window and turn off the engine.  Magically, within moments there would be a friendly looking man in a blue shirt with his name on it.  They were always names like, "Ron" or "Joe." I would invariably develop a crush, for I cannot remember a time when I did not feel attracted to men.
     My mom would ask them to "fill it up" and they would start the gas pumping and then hop to and check the oil, coolant and washer fluid.  They would top things up, always being sure to show my mom the oil dip-stick to prove that she really did need that next quart of oil.  Then they would wash the window and bring out a credit slip.  I loved watching them fill it out and then swipe that giant block across it.  They always told us to have a nice day, and we did!
     Compare that to today.  I pull up to the pump.  There is no kind gentleman there to greet me.  I feel awkward but at least I know how to pump my gas.  So I have a microscopic amount of confidence.  As I slide my card into the slot at the pump I hear a voice. "How you doin today mam?" Dear God, no.
First of all, "mam?"  Are they serious.  They are like a year younger than me.  I'm instantly annoyed.  Why are they talking to me?
     "Hey." I say trying to be both cool and at the same time make it clear that if they continue this conversation they are taking their own life into their hands.
     "Have you heard about our product? Its a whiz-bang water-less window cleaner."
     My palms start to sweat.  Why?  I'm here to pump gas.  All I know is, pump the gas.  Fill the tank and get the hell out as fast as possible.  Why is this guy talking to me?  I hate this place.  This is a guy place and I am keenly aware that I am allowed limited temporary use of it.  What if he asks me a car question?  They all know I have no idea what I'm talking about.  They're going to make fun of me.
     "I'm not interested," I say with the cold look of death.
     "Ohhhh, UCDavis!"  How charming.  He's seen my bumper sticker.  "You alumni?"
      THAT'S IT! What do I look old?  I've used up all my car confidence on pumping the gas.  Now my pride is wounded.
     "No.  I'm not A-L-U-M-N-I."
     "Okay, take it easy now."
     I'm actually going to kill this kid.  I suddenly realize I haven't even started pumping the gas!  My card is not working at the pump.  I have to GO INSIDE.  The terror.  Now I have to walk past a table of these water-less window cleaner guys.  Guys.  There are suddenly men everywhere.  Literally, I'm the only woman in a packed gas station full of construction workers and painters and businessmen.
     What did I do?
     I marched into the store brandishing attitude in place of actual courage.  I'm pretty sure I scared every man within a 100 foot radius.  I paid for my gas, hid in my car while it pumped and left in a metaphorical cloud of dust.
     That is why women hate the gas station.