This morning, when I begrudingly thought about getting out of bed at 9:15, it was foggy. I certainly didn't know this from just looking out the window. It's the advantage of having a bedroom in the basement. I knew it was foggy, though, thanks to the TV. At the bottom of the TV screen, the ticker clicked through the names of schools that were on a delay, or closed, due to the fog. Without contacts in my eyes, I squinted to see if I was going to get to sleep a little longer. As I waited for the M's to come up on the screen, I drifted back in thought to the time when I was a kid. I had to wait for the T's to scroll by, and then it was the Tr's even. It always seemed like a torturous event waiting to see if I was going to be lucky enough to have a snow (or fog?) day. I think sometimes the city schools here would rather get our butts in the classroom than let us sleep in just to be spiteful. But then again, that was the mentality of a child.
Today, the school where I was substituting was delayed, for two hours. I called the county office, and was disappointed to find out that as I was only subbing for a half day, it would not affect my schedule. Show up at 11 a.m. and teach until 2:20 p.m. Okay, okay, okay...so now, get out of bed. Ugh. I really need to stop staying up so late.
After the little alien dog attempted to eat my cat, Elly, I wandered upstairs for breakfast. I gazed out the kitchen window while drinking a protein shake. The sky was gloomy. The fog had definitely settled in, creating a moist look to the leaves that covered the backyard. It looked like the grass was stained yellow and brown. It was kind of depressing. I really wanted to crawl back in bed, and start the day over when it was prettier outside.
An hour later, I stepped out of the house, still in sandals (sandals 'til it snows is my policy), khakis that are a size too big, and a chocolate brown cardigan sweater set. I think I did fulfill the "teacher look," today. When I arrived, everything seemed a bit chaotic. With a two hour delay, the student had arrived only an hour before I did. I met with the teacher that I was substituting for just before she left for her in-school meeting. The last thing she said was: "If they even look at you crossed-eyed, tell them I'll deal with them tomorrow." Now that leaves me thinking one of two things. Either this teacher is really hard on her students or the students are really hard on her.
Fifteen minutes later, when my first set of students came in (for study hall), nearly half of the students were all excited about having a substitute. The best comment was, "Are you nicer than Mrs. B.?" Oh heck yeah, I am...well, maybe I am, I really don't know. But, I knew that I could try to get on the students' good side by telling them first what Mrs. B had said, and then following that up with my general, "I'm a nice person," statement.
It all went well. After the study hall, I had three periods of 7th grade pre-algebra to teach. The students were learning measurement of lines, in centimeters and inches. Wow. That took me back. Did I learn that in junior high or elementary school? Being a science student (forever) the metric system is like part of who I am. I hate the English system. The students caught on quickly, and everyone got their assignments done.
In my last period, I had a deaf student and his interpreter. That was a different experience for me. I learned how to sign "thank you," so that I could tell the student "thank you" for turning in his ruler. While it's the only sign language that I know, it was kind of meaningful to me. The interpreter was very cool, and she helped me to understand a little bit more about how a deaf student functions intermixed with a class of hearing students.
So, I'm really liking the teach gig...even though it's very up and down as far as when I do have the opportunity to be in the classroom. I don't think I'll ever teach as a veterinarian. The students are too old, and something is lost when you get past a certain age, I think, that makes teaching fun. At least that's how I'm seeing it right now. I do think, though, that I will definitely want to be involved in the community as a veterinarian. Teaching 4-Hers or maybe speaking in elementary schools on topics like dog bite prevention and things like that.
After the teaching, I came home and switched figurative hats. Out of the business casual clothes and into teal green scrubs. As I walked out the door, my younger brother reminded me that tonight is trick-or-treat night in our city. The veterinary clinic was slow, very slow, but we didn't have little goblins, witches, or even cute puppies dressed up and begging for candy. Heck, they don't have to beg. There's two huge plastic pumpkins full of candy sitting on the reception desk. Candy for all, and all for candy! It wasn't until after 7 that I realized that I was only supposed to be in the clinic for the kennels tonight. That was just fine with me, though...I showed up early (two hours) and got some things done.
Most of the patients were the same, just shifted a cage or two to the left or right. Smokey, the cat with the broken pelvis still didn't want to move. He cried, hissed, and was in generally a bad mood when I medicated him. He hasn't gotten up even to eat, drink, or use the litter box in days. Poor thing. Chester the itsy bitsy parvo puppy is still in isolation, and he's not drinking or eating either. What is this, a theme? Sasha the Siamese with the worst attitude ever is still there. A couple nights ago, I cramped my hand up while holding on to her. But, I'd rather have a cramped hand any day of the week than one that's all torn up from claws and teeth. Keller, an employee's cat, was waking up from surgery to correct an ophthalmologic issue. He'd been with us for a few days.
The two new cases were a results of a "whoops." In this situation, I'm not sure how I would have reacted, and if it would have been any different than what the doctor did. Last night, I worked, which is unusual for the month of October. Wednesdays have been my day off all month, and I haven't regretted it. I filled in yesterday, though, for another tech who had to attend her grandmother's funeral. I didn't mind filling in, though. The later half of the shift was at the vaccination clinic, which is about the easiest work imaginable. Sit at a desk, smile, check-in/out patients, and if you're me last night, get some paperwork done for stupid college loans. Ugh.
The doctor will see the patient, and then bring out the vaccination vials for me to play "arts and crafts" with before saying good-bye to patient & client. The goal is to get the sticker off the vial in one piece, and plastered down on the medical record. The doctor had done this for several patients before, and with these two cats, nothing was different. She walked back into the exam room with the next patient, while I went to work peeling labels.
Oh but this was different!! Just as I was peeling the labels, I thought to myself, "Why did cats get canine coronavirus vaccine?" At that same moment, or maybe a millisecond after, the doctor walked back out, realizing her mistake. She and I knew this was probably not a good thing. The tough part was explaining it to the owners. How do you say, "opps, I just vaccinated your CATS with DOG products?"
After a call to the clinic, the doctor decided to send the cats back to the main hospital to be admitted and watched overnight. They were given injections to counteract any possible anaphylaxis, and just watched. The next morning, the company was called, and at that point, the doctor found out that it was not a problem. However, that probably doesn't make the owners feel any better. The fact is that it happened, and it's quite a shock, I would think.
These two cats were dismissed early during my shift, but by the end of it, one of the pair returned with bloody diarrhea. I don't really know what's next for this one. I have no idea if it is parasite-related or if it could possibly be related to the vaccine "whoops." I suppose time will tell. And time will also tell how the doctor deals with this situation - if there's any backlash from the incident. I hope there's not. I think it would be devastating for a young doctor to be in that situation, struggling to figure out what to do to "make it better."
By now, the trick or treaters are gone. It's nearly 11, and way past their bedtimes. It should be past my bedtime too, but I still have a couple more things to do, including picking up a movie. I'm going to try a chick flick tonight, if it's at the video store (when will we start calling them DVD stores?)..."Raising Helen."
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