When I am sufficiently motivated, I make myself a green smoothie in the morning and bring it to school in a glass jar. Yes, it's a glass canning jar, and yes, I carry it around with me throughout the day.
(what is a green smoothie, you ask? um, try one - it's a blended-together mix of greens/fruit/berries/seeds/nut butter/whatever you want. although they range from simple [double handful of spinach+water+2 bananas+apple] to unusual [mango+kale+soy milk+raspberries+hot pepper+apple], they are very tasty.)
As you might expect, seeing a person drinking a bright green sludgy substance on a regular basis is a cause for curiosity or concern. Most of the time, I explain what exactly is in the jar and offer the inquisitive person a taste.
However...when the associate dean of the vet school (a wizened old ambulatory practitioner) raised an eyebrow and inquired about my drink, I instead said:
"Oh, I dipped this out of the surgery rumenotomy bucket this morning. It's delicious!"
first emergency shift:
Oh hey! It's the first day of my emergency and critical care rotation. I've been looking forward to this day, although there is this nagging feeling that I'm going to get my ass handed to me in short order.
hour 0 (7 am):
I cheerfully stroll into the vet school, water bottle and bananas in hand. Sustenance is important, friends - the café closes at 4:30, and after that you have to scavenge for free food. However, your competition for any leftover pizza is a gang of rapacious, hyena-like classmates. It's kind of like dropping a chicken wing into a tank of piranhas.
hour 3:
Three hours of orientation later, I realize my shift doesn't actually begin until noon. I walk down campus to grab some lunch, then spend the next half an hour eating a delicious burrito and catching up on Autostraddle articles.
hour 6:
Sitting in the emergency room. No cases! La di da!
hour 7:
Still sitting in the emergency room. Spinning around in the wheeled chairs is no longer entertaining. We begin quizzing each other with boards review questions.
hour 8:
I'm holding a large, wolfish dog on an exam table, trying to hook up the ECG leads, and answering (mostly incorrectly) rapid-fire questions from the resident. The pixie-like technician snaps, "Alacrity! Pay attention! Hold the dog still!"
The dog and I are roughly comparable in weight. He gets muzzled when he growls at the clippers.
hour 10:
I answer a phone call, which can be summarized as:
"I think my dog is [clearly very ill] because he's [having concerning and messy symptoms] much worse and more frequently than he has been the past couple of days. Do you think I should bring him in?
hour 12:
My severely ill patient is sleeping in the middle of the floor. She is in the eye of the ER storm.
hour 14:
Positioning the dog and taking a radiograph by myself is totally possible - as long as I can grab the sandbags from the shelf with my foot. Couldn't be simpler!
hour 15:
I begin rocking out to a Rihanna song in the ICU.
hour 17:
The overnight intern and I are sitting in an exam room with a client. The client is vacillating between two treatment options that will cost about the same and will have about the same outcome. She begins telling stories about her dog when she was a puppy. Time crawls by like a lethargic insect.
hour 18.5 (1:30 am):
I get pulled over while driving home. The officer tells me I have a headlight out, and inquires if I've been drinking. I tell him I've just finished an emergency shift at the vet hospital. He waves away my license and registration, and says, "I figured when I saw the scrubs. Go home.".
hour 0 (7 am):
I cheerfully stroll into the vet school, water bottle and bananas in hand. Sustenance is important, friends - the café closes at 4:30, and after that you have to scavenge for free food. However, your competition for any leftover pizza is a gang of rapacious, hyena-like classmates. It's kind of like dropping a chicken wing into a tank of piranhas.
hour 3:
Three hours of orientation later, I realize my shift doesn't actually begin until noon. I walk down campus to grab some lunch, then spend the next half an hour eating a delicious burrito and catching up on Autostraddle articles.
hour 6:
Sitting in the emergency room. No cases! La di da!
hour 7:
Still sitting in the emergency room. Spinning around in the wheeled chairs is no longer entertaining. We begin quizzing each other with boards review questions.
hour 8:
I'm holding a large, wolfish dog on an exam table, trying to hook up the ECG leads, and answering (mostly incorrectly) rapid-fire questions from the resident. The pixie-like technician snaps, "Alacrity! Pay attention! Hold the dog still!"
The dog and I are roughly comparable in weight. He gets muzzled when he growls at the clippers.
hour 10:
I answer a phone call, which can be summarized as:
"I think my dog is [clearly very ill] because he's [having concerning and messy symptoms] much worse and more frequently than he has been the past couple of days. Do you think I should bring him in?
hour 12:
My severely ill patient is sleeping in the middle of the floor. She is in the eye of the ER storm.
hour 14:
Positioning the dog and taking a radiograph by myself is totally possible - as long as I can grab the sandbags from the shelf with my foot. Couldn't be simpler!
hour 15:
I begin rocking out to a Rihanna song in the ICU.
hour 17:
The overnight intern and I are sitting in an exam room with a client. The client is vacillating between two treatment options that will cost about the same and will have about the same outcome. She begins telling stories about her dog when she was a puppy. Time crawls by like a lethargic insect.
hour 18.5 (1:30 am):
I get pulled over while driving home. The officer tells me I have a headlight out, and inquires if I've been drinking. I tell him I've just finished an emergency shift at the vet hospital. He waves away my license and registration, and says, "I figured when I saw the scrubs. Go home.".
large animal surgeon advising a resident:
"If you lacerate anything down in there, you are screwed. Totally and completely screwed."
conversation between surgeons:
Two surgeons are preparing for a skate surgery, which is a surgery where the animal is euthanized at the end after the surgical residents practice techniques.
The animal in question is a horse donated for the teaching lameness course who has a penchant for kicking students.
Surgeon 1: "I'll just anesthetize the horse myself. What's the worst that could happen?"
Surgeon 2: "...the horse could wake up during surgery, destroy all the surgery lights, leap off the table, and run around the surgical suite?"
Surgeon 1: "Okay, I'll get one of the anesthesia students to do it."
The animal in question is a horse donated for the teaching lameness course who has a penchant for kicking students.
Surgeon 1: "I'll just anesthetize the horse myself. What's the worst that could happen?"
Surgeon 2: "...the horse could wake up during surgery, destroy all the surgery lights, leap off the table, and run around the surgical suite?"
Surgeon 1: "Okay, I'll get one of the anesthesia students to do it."
while dicussing student duties on the theriogenology rotation:
technician: "It's my understanding that rectums are off limits, but vaginas are okay."
me: "Let's just ride right past all the possible directions we could go with that statement."
me: "Let's just ride right past all the possible directions we could go with that statement."
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