I love my job.

Interesting thing I learned today: anal glands can make a sound as they're expelling their contents onto my clothing.

It begins

Monday I start (FINALLY) the second half of my studies that will gain my entrance into whatever place they're giving the state boards next year. What this means, in a nutshell, is that I'm going to have to relearn everything I already learned and then forgot.

Oh, there are things I'll remember. I'll remember which bone is the ulna (provided I see it alone, without the animal that usually surrounds it.) I'll remember the sequence when developing dental x-rays is: water, developer--30 seconds, water, fixer--45 seconds, water. I'll remember about the invisible pocket of air that surrounds a sterile field. I'll remember that one doctor at the practice doesn't like her surgery packs in a tray. I'll remember to clamp off IV lines BEFORE I uncap them. You know, stuff like that.

Will I remember what an erythrocyte looks like? Not bloody likely.

There's a 50% chance I could find coccidia on a fecal slide if it's actually present. Given enough time and an unlimited supply of needles, I could get blood from a dog. I excel at catching urine with a plastic ladle, and I have felt the inside of a butthole, but NOT, unfortunately, a full anal gland.

So, knowing what I do and don't know, I often ask myself, "Self, is it even remotely possible you could someday work in emergency and critical care?" (Because that's what I want to do.)

Seems like with my temperament, I'd end up with a permanent neckache. Hell, I have that already.

And this is why

Last week I decided that enough was enough, and I would start riding my bicycle every morning for at least a few miles. Monday--2 miles. Tuesday--same 2 miles. Today? Nowhere, because my ass hurt.

Why yes, I believe I will, thank you.

Having finally succumbed to the sneaking suspicion that my inability to sleep through a whole night wasn't going to just somehow END, I allowed my doctor's assistant to prescribe Ambien, which then gave me two of the most lovely nights of sleep in many, many years.

And me being me, I looked up Ambien on the interweb, because that's what I do (much to the chagrin of just about everybody who knows me.) Anyone in the know (which includes the company that MAKES Ambien) says it is a short-term drug, that should be used for a few weeks, tops. And here I was planning to take it every night for the rest of my natural life. I had actual energy those two days after those two nights. I wasn't yawning every 10 minutes. I have a clean-ass kitchen, because I was able to sustain my momentum long enough to clean it.

So I conducted an experiment. Last night, I went to bed without Ambien, and woke up roughly every hour like I usually do, although this time, I had trouble even GETTING to sleep, which is unusual for me. They say that this "rebound insomnia" happens when you take Ambien and then don't. But wouldn't that imply that after a day or two, you'd get back to your regular sleep patterns? And what if your sleep patterns sucked balls to begin with? What if your sleep patterns were such that YOU NEEDED TO TAKE AMBIEN? I took a nap in the middle of the day.

Big, hairy, rat turds.

Yes, there's a potential for addiction. If you take them long enough, they're supposed to lose their effectiveness. So the question for me tonight, is: should I take one, or no? Let me weigh the options. If they can be taken for a few weeks "as directed" then I at least have 12 more nights of actual sleep coming to me. If I take them as long as I want, I may end up on a particularly pathetic episode of "Intervention."

Sleep is so important. Also, I like it. And so tonight I will take a pill, and I will sleep and I will be happy tomorrow, when the Girl and I are supposed to go swimming in the pool that did NOT get pooped in today, (that would be the Blue Valley pool, by the way,) and I will worry about my impending drug addiction later.

Because denial is a powerful and effective weapon!!

A breaking point.

My house is reaching critical mass. The Girl watches way too much television. I don't get enough excercise.

Surely, there's got to be a way to do this without actually--dare I say it?--ORGANIZING!

And don't call me Shirley.

Pop Quiz

Today, a dog much like this one was at our hospital. As a coworker placed him on the table, she said, "Quick! Name that breed!"

I did.

Can you?

Physicality

Imagine, if you will, a dog not unlike this one. (This one happens to be an Anatolian Shepherd, and NOT the actual dog in question.) Now, imagine what would happen should that dog's toenails become too long. A no-brainer--toenail trim! And toenail trims are what we at the clinic are partially there for. I have trimmed many a toenail, and most of them didn't bleed. As a matter of fact, while waiting recently in line at Subway, I found a toenail in the pocket of my yellow scrub top. At any rate, yesterday, said dog came into the clinic for the trim. His owners advised that he doesn't much go for having his paws played with, which is unfortunately where the nails were at the time. As a precaution against freaking him totally out, acepromazine was administered. Ace (as we fondly call it) has the effect that perhaps a nice Valium would have on you or me. Sort of a laissez-faire attitude is induced, and many times, procedures that would otherwise produce doggie angst are carried off without a hitch. He was left to let the medicine take effect, and then brought out into the treatment area, at which point a large rent in the fabric that separates all the horrors of hell from appearing in Cedar Park, Texas, was torn way, way open. In the beginning, one tech manned the nail area, and another restrained the dog. By the time it was over, FOUR techs were sprawled across the floor and draped over the dog while he tried to bite off faces through his muzzle. As luck would have it, I was the one draped over his back half, which meant that while I didn't sustain bloody scratches to my neck like one of the others did, I WAS on the end that kept shooting out poops from the combination of fear and physical strain. When it was all done, we struggled to our feet, carefully avoiding the bodily exudates, and the dog jumped up, let us take off his muzzle, shook out his fur, and looked at us with a smile as if to say, "Now who wants to go outside and throw a ball for me!" It is now noted in that particular dog's file that toenail trims will now incur a "handling fee" since 4 staff members are required. AFTER acepromazine.

Boy, I do love me some doggies!