This is not the time for a blog post.

I very much have A MILLION THINGS to do for tomorrow, and then that pretty much doesn't stop until the beginning of December, but there you go. I'm writing one anyway. I think that the importance of documenting things that make me happy and remind me of why I'm here and doing this and slogging through mountains of skin path (ugh) and pharmacokinetics (double ugh) can never be underestimated. Also, run on sentences are perfectly acceptable in my blog, so there, perfectionism brain! No, you shut up! ;-)

Today, I woke up at 6 in order to get ready, walk the dog in the pouring rain, and then make the one-hour drive to Eugene for my first time volunteering with Pro-Bone-O (best name ever!), a free community veterinary clinic. The OSU College of Veterinary Medicine Shelter Medicine club has a relationship with this group, so vet students are encouraged to go and help out at every opportunity. Every time I do things like this, I get totally renewed and energized and feel so invigorated. This is my favorite thing, my raison d'etre. It's pretty amazing to be in the very fortunate, privileged position of helping to provide veterinary services to people who are otherwise unable to access it. There's kind of a glaring issue apparent when I think about how I wish I could make my living doing work like this, but no matter- I'll work at a normal grown-up job in order to take time away to go do things like this as much as possible.

I arrived at the clinic bright and early, and was thankful to have made it on time. This is because, despite having written myself two notes (one placed tenderly on my pillow last night, the other on the bathroom sink) AND scribbling on my hand, I still forgot the big bag of FeLV antigen tests that was sitting in my fridge, ready and waiting to be used at Pro-Bone-O. But I digress. After a minor reroute (and I saw deer again! Totally worth it!), I made it there and met the rest of the volunteer team. One vet was an OSU grad, and the other was a grad from Tufts in Boston. They were both lovely, as were the other people. When I arrived, there was a massive lineup of people waiting outside the building in the pouring rain with their dogs and cats. I got myself organized (ish), and was immediately put in charge of triaging patients. The clinic has a lottery system whereby the first 50 people and their pets get seen, but pets who are critical obviously get first dibs and the most rapid attention. There weren't any super critical patients this morning, but some were definitely in need of medical attention. Along with them, there were tons of appointments for vaccines, parasite control, nail trims, anal gland expressions, nutritional and behavioural advice, etc.

I worked for the morning with one of the vets, and she and I saw at least 25 patients. Some highlights for me were draining an aural hematoma (fun!), seeing my first case of rickets in an older dog, and successfully navigating a difficult situation with a client. The latter was not fun, but a highlight for me because you have to practice at this stuff, and my ability to remain calm, respectful, and professional led to an outcome that was satisfactory for both parties. For the most part, our cases were reasonably complex (dermatological cases in particular- skin pathology it seems will haunt me even on my days off). Skin problems are clinically very challenging to work with, even if you have every fancy-schmancy diagnostic and referral centre at your disposal, as well as a client who is capable of pursuing it. In this case, we are seeing clients who, for a wide variety of reasons, are limited in their ability to manage an itchy dog or cat. From our end too, we have very little in the way of resources even for diagnosis, let alone treatment. I stained a lot of slides today of skin scrapings and ear goo, so being able to get a good look at things under a microscope is a start. Bacteria, yeast, mites...these animals were full of them. We did what we could, and tried our best to make recommendations that were reasonable and within reach of our clientele.

Talking to clients made me realize that yes, I may know some things. Not very many yet, but some. I had so many people thank me for taking the time to talk to them and make suggestions (under the vet's supervision, of course). I actually even had two different people thank me for LISTENING to them. This was a really interesting one for me- I gave the whole thing a lot of thought on my way home, whilst passing green fields and red/orange/yellow trees and misty forest and singing along to Mumford and Sons and Bon Iver. Many people who are down on their luck, who have had entire lifetimes of shitty circumstances fall into their laps, people who have too little support and too much pain...they get used to not being heard. Not having a house or money or anything of traditional value in our culture reduces people, human beings, to labels or generalizations or topics that people who are better-off talk about uncomfortably at dinner parties. For so very many people I have met in these types of circumstances, their pets are everything to them. I know that feeling from knowing Chester, and I have so many people in my life who love me as well as SO. MANY. MATERIAL. THINGS. I cannot imagine how much more Chester might have meant to me if I had no one else in my life, or I was treated with disdain by others with abhorrent frequency. It's important to listen to clients- a lot of us may have started out in the helping professions because we want to help (people, animals), and maybe we want to fix the problems of others, even cure them. That's a noble thought, but (forget the fact that mostly we can't cure anything for anyone!) often times, the best thing we can do is just listen. Listen to someone cry, talk about their dog when he was a puppy, or describe what they mean when they think their pet just "ain't doin' right"- a concept that is in and of itself so useful for diagnostic purposes that it has its own shorthand. Now you know what it means when you see ADR in any veterinary patient's chart. :)

Today was amazing. It wasn't anything "special" in the sense that I got to practice a lot of new technical skills...I gave a ton of vaccines, treated a lot of dogs for parasites, looked at a lot of slides, filled a lot of prescriptions. Still though, I really do believe that people in most careers- whether teachers, nurses, vets, physicians, carpenters, whatever- should have a professional and moral obligation to support related non-profits in their communities and give of their time and skills. What does it cost me to go and do something like this for a few hours every couple of weeks (well, besides possibly my pharmacology quiz grade tomorrow, haha)? How much of a reduction would there be in unwanted companion animals if every single vet in the world performed one free spay/neuter a month? I don't know. It just makes sense to me.

I'm feeling pretty good today. I am going to go back now to studying, with the promise of a dance class later to break up the evening. Andy is lying next to me, and every time I glance at him, his tail thumps on the floor. He's a nice companion for a rainy Sunday, even if I'd rather be spending it with a glass of wine and a scary movie than memorizing drugs. I faux-complain (fauxplain?), but really, I think that there's no better place in the world for me to be right now. Lots of love! xoxo

Loss

I really am terrible at this blogging thing. I guess I have a pretty good excuse, particularly over the past while...there's been so much going on, and I've pretty much been existing in survivor-mode. I've been here in Corvallis for a month now (!!), and what a month it's been. It seems strange to think that this has been both the hardest month of my life and the beginning of something that I suspect will be amazing, once I start to feel more like me again.

I only want to write a line or so about Chester. He died, unexpectedly, on September 18th...my second night in Corvallis. I am not really ready to talk about that yet, but suffice it to say he was my best friend and my heart dog, and I will never be the same without him. That was huge and heartbreaking and shattered my world. Moving on. Add to that a couple of other significant personal challenges, and I had the recipe for one hell of a tough first term in my new town, at my brand new vet school. Despite all that, I have been managing to cope. I have actually genuinely surprised myself, and it's kind of a nice surprise to discover that that's still possible (do I sound like a bitter, jaded old harpy? Haha). I still cry every night, and I still have those dreams where I can feel his rough, wavy coat under my fingertips as I sleep. I still wake up a lot and reach for him, and he's not there, and then the nightmare comes rushing back. 

Now, I have Andy. Andy is not my dog- he's a 9 year-old very mixy black Lab-something, and he's hanging out with me for a while. He has just experienced huge loss as well, so we have that in common. He's a lovely, quirky, grey-faced old man, and he likes to sleep and take walks in the woods behind our apartment and play tug-of-war. He is learning about toys and the clicker- and has taken to both with fervent abandon. I can appreciate Andy for being his own special self, and for the most part I don't project any of my sadness or grief onto him. He is Andy, not Chester...I guess that makes it easier, in a way- there is really no dog that could remind me of him, because he existed on his own plane of importance and significance and love and joy in my life. 

The other day, I was driving up the street towards my apartment. I live on sort of a forested little mountain-y hill, just slightly outside of the centre of the town. I love the area; I enjoy the quiet and the woods and the smell of pine trees in the rain. At any rate, I was driving, and there were the inevitable tears, and I don't remember what exactly I was thinking about in that second, but I happened to see a  beautiful black-tailed stag step into the street. As I slowed to a stop to let him cross, I saw another move out into the street behind him. As I marveled at my luck, I continued to watch in awe as not 2, not 3, but 9 deer (including a couple of fawns) crossed the street in front of me. They weren't in any hurry, and the little group paused to graze on a lawn across the street. A jogger ran past and did a double take- the deer weren't even fazed. I just felt so very lucky to have seen that, and I think in that moment I really needed to have some wildlife make an appearance and remind me to appreciate the moment and to be grateful for the many wonderful things I have, and have had, and will always have, in my life. 

The vet school here is beautiful, and the people are really lovely. It feels like a very supportive environment, and I am joining the shelter medicine club (!!!!), the association of equine practitioners, the international veterinary students association (which plans and executes a large/small animal health clinic each summer in Nicaragua!), and the zoo/wildlife/exotics club. There's so much more to do and take part in, but everything is so overwhelming right now that I'm trying to take one thing at a time (right now, it's get through the 4-midterms-in-6-days nonsense that we've been subjected to- 3 down, 1 to go!). I've actually done very, very well in school so far. I don't know how it's happening, but I'm grateful for it. 

So, there it is. I'm at my new vet school, I'm doing it in spite of my fears that I wouldn't be able to, and hopefully things will just get more manageable with time. Sending lots of love, and I hope you're all doing amazingly well in your little corners of the world. xo