So far things are working today...I woke up, ate breakfast and rushed to class. I hold that I got there exactly on time, but realistically I was probably ten seconds late. And it was anatomy, too, which starts promptly and doesn't slow down until every last nanosecond has been eked out of the 50 minutes.
Histology doesn't have this problem. Histology, the professors just blithely keep going until they've finished whatever they're talking about, and graciously allow us to be late for lab. Since it's the lab for histology, they can do that.
Two labs today, wherein we learned that
1. As long as you are doing something interesting, like slicing away the cobwebby connective tissue (fascia) between muscles, you CAN survive a three hour lab.*
2. Histology lab is nice. It's clean, it's peaceful, you get a comfy swivel chair to sit on.
3. Your locker will smell forevermore of formaldehyde once you leave your labcoat in there.
Yesterday I learned that I officially know nothing about anatomy. I was good up until I had to identify the greater tubercle of the humerus. "The what-of-the--oh, I'm supposed to know that?" It had never occurred to me that I would be foiled by the complexity of a single bone. The darn thing has, like, a dozen parts! And it's the easy one.
It looks like, for the most part, people are done with excessive sociability. The first few days, you have to introduce yourself to everyone and try to remember horribly difficult things, like what their names are. Now that the classes are starting, we have more important things to remember. Like, when is lunch? Socializing now entails only knowing enough about your lab partners to remember which one has the bone box.
And the last new thing today: the joy of a nat across the road. Finally, reaching the place of exercise takes less time than the exercise itself. I went swimming. It was good. It wiped out the formaldehyde smell.
*EDIT: Four years later I now know I was having some major health issues at this time that made it physically challenging to stand for an hour, but their onset had been so subtle I hadn't realized when I wrote this that three hours, while not easy, was not leaving my classmates pale, weak and wondering how they were going to survive the semester. That was all the other classes.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Day Two
And where is Day One, you ask?
Well, that was yesterday, y'see. That was all orientation games and eating tacos, waaay too many cookies, and signing up for every club the vet school offers. There are fifteen, no kidding. But no vet schoolish stuff, per se. The closest we came was the carefully timed attack of the cute, fluffy, up-for-adoption puppy. Those sneaky vets from the clinic brought her around during the tacos, while people's guard was down in anticipation of food.
Today was bones in the anatomy lab. Each group got a box with bones from one side of a dog skeleton. My group dumped the bones out on the table, picked out as many as we could (5) and spent the next hour trying to decide what the other 30 or so were. Vertebrae? Oh, definitely. The question is whether any given piece was cervical, thoracic, or lumbar. Or coaxal. Or not actually from the backbone at all. We had that little problem with the atlas, which I'm still not sure what it is.
Later, after the scheduled activities, a good chunk of the student body ventured out to the Union. I think most of them were after the beer, but a good minority recognized the true purpose of socializing on the Terrace, which is to provide an excuse for ice cream. Raspberry cheesecake shall haunt my dreams...I got my fave, choc chip cookie dough, but a taste of the raspberry severely shook my resolve.
Being vet students who are not yet privy to each others' deepest secrets (like what do you really think of your lab partners), the conversations were terrific. Lots of horror stories about pitbulls and reminiscing about undergrad physics exams.
Well, that was yesterday, y'see. That was all orientation games and eating tacos, waaay too many cookies, and signing up for every club the vet school offers. There are fifteen, no kidding. But no vet schoolish stuff, per se. The closest we came was the carefully timed attack of the cute, fluffy, up-for-adoption puppy. Those sneaky vets from the clinic brought her around during the tacos, while people's guard was down in anticipation of food.
Today was bones in the anatomy lab. Each group got a box with bones from one side of a dog skeleton. My group dumped the bones out on the table, picked out as many as we could (5) and spent the next hour trying to decide what the other 30 or so were. Vertebrae? Oh, definitely. The question is whether any given piece was cervical, thoracic, or lumbar. Or coaxal. Or not actually from the backbone at all. We had that little problem with the atlas, which I'm still not sure what it is.
Later, after the scheduled activities, a good chunk of the student body ventured out to the Union. I think most of them were after the beer, but a good minority recognized the true purpose of socializing on the Terrace, which is to provide an excuse for ice cream. Raspberry cheesecake shall haunt my dreams...I got my fave, choc chip cookie dough, but a taste of the raspberry severely shook my resolve.
Being vet students who are not yet privy to each others' deepest secrets (like what do you really think of your lab partners), the conversations were terrific. Lots of horror stories about pitbulls and reminiscing about undergrad physics exams.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Glass breaking as a summer pursuit
At the beginning of the summer I dropped a glass mixing bowl. It shattered and I spent the next hour picking glass out of shag carpet (yeah...if it had fallen in the kitchen, I could have swept it up. If it had fallen in the living room, it probably wouldn't have broken. But no, I had to drop it at the doorway.)
Then midway through summer, my sister was playing fetch with the dog and broke a window. Once again, glass all over the kitchen floor.
But now I have done one better. I have exploded a pie plate. Replete with pie.
*hitting head on wall*
Just a word to the wise--do not heat up the burner when there's a pie sitting on it. Glass goes boom.
Then midway through summer, my sister was playing fetch with the dog and broke a window. Once again, glass all over the kitchen floor.
But now I have done one better. I have exploded a pie plate. Replete with pie.
*hitting head on wall*
Just a word to the wise--do not heat up the burner when there's a pie sitting on it. Glass goes boom.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Letter to a Fourth Year
Dear Vet Student Self:
In a few years, you will start your final year of school, and with that will come rotations. You will be one of those blue-garbed, stethoscope-carrying people of authority. It will probably be very cool and utterly exhausting, and your brain will be so full of medical miscellany that the fact you can still walk in a straight line will amaze us all. Actually, walking in a straight line may be a bit of a stretch, but we can always hope.
In any case, you won't be in any condition to remember the poor, downtrodden kennel workers. This letter is to remind you of the things that us downtrodden kennel workers would like all fourth year students to do while they're garnering clinic experience.
1. Thou shalt mark it on the cage card when thou hast fed thy caseload.
2. Thou shalt arrive early enough to take your patient out before he hath an accident.
Double-plus bonus: we can clean while you walk him, and we don't have to clean as much. And the kennels won't smell like dog poo. We're talking 7 am here.
3. Thou shalt give thy patient enough blankets, but not too many (three is good).
If thou bringest in thy own dog for days in a row, leave a card saying "save" and maybe clean that kennel on your own time. It's not that we mind the pets, it's just...there's sometimes a lot of kennels to clean.
4. Thou shalt clean up after exceptionally messy patients (optional).
This one just makes the kennel crew like you.
5. Thou shalt explain thy patient's bizarre health conditions to the curious kennel workers.
Half of us are pre-vets. We LIKE gory detail. Oo, and you knowing who we are is also cool.
6. Thou shalt occasionally thank the kennel crew for their hard work.
It's not usually all that hard, but it is messy and smelly and necessary.
Other things come to mind, such as
the nice people in CCU who consolidate the overnight garbage from all the bins;
picking up the poo from your patient out on dogwalk;
noting that you the student will feed a dog that needs special handfeeding;
piling the bags of soiled laundry along the wall, rather than in the mop room doorway.
But those are little things. The main things are getting here early enough to take the dog on a walk before its bladder fails, and marking whether you have fed (or will feed) your patient.
On behalf of kennel workers, thank you! And (when you get there) enjoy your last year of vet school!
Sincerely,
Your kennel worker self.
In a few years, you will start your final year of school, and with that will come rotations. You will be one of those blue-garbed, stethoscope-carrying people of authority. It will probably be very cool and utterly exhausting, and your brain will be so full of medical miscellany that the fact you can still walk in a straight line will amaze us all. Actually, walking in a straight line may be a bit of a stretch, but we can always hope.
In any case, you won't be in any condition to remember the poor, downtrodden kennel workers. This letter is to remind you of the things that us downtrodden kennel workers would like all fourth year students to do while they're garnering clinic experience.
1. Thou shalt mark it on the cage card when thou hast fed thy caseload.
We don't mind feeding the dogs in the morning (it makes them like us, after all), but we'd rather not have you pop in two minutes later, gasp, and say "But I already fed him, and if he eats any more his colon will explode!"
2. Thou shalt arrive early enough to take your patient out before he hath an accident.
Double-plus bonus: we can clean while you walk him, and we don't have to clean as much. And the kennels won't smell like dog poo. We're talking 7 am here.
3. Thou shalt give thy patient enough blankets, but not too many (three is good).
If thou bringest in thy own dog for days in a row, leave a card saying "save" and maybe clean that kennel on your own time. It's not that we mind the pets, it's just...there's sometimes a lot of kennels to clean.
4. Thou shalt clean up after exceptionally messy patients (optional).
This one just makes the kennel crew like you.
5. Thou shalt explain thy patient's bizarre health conditions to the curious kennel workers.
Half of us are pre-vets. We LIKE gory detail. Oo, and you knowing who we are is also cool.
6. Thou shalt occasionally thank the kennel crew for their hard work.
It's not usually all that hard, but it is messy and smelly and necessary.
Other things come to mind, such as
the nice people in CCU who consolidate the overnight garbage from all the bins;
picking up the poo from your patient out on dogwalk;
noting that you the student will feed a dog that needs special handfeeding;
piling the bags of soiled laundry along the wall, rather than in the mop room doorway.
But those are little things. The main things are getting here early enough to take the dog on a walk before its bladder fails, and marking whether you have fed (or will feed) your patient.
On behalf of kennel workers, thank you! And (when you get there) enjoy your last year of vet school!
Sincerely,
Your kennel worker self.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
How it looks from here
Photographic proof! 170 reunited with her calf, the cows and calves enjoying the pasture, and, Yes, the hen has that many chicks (and there are more running around elsewhere).
Monday, August 11, 2008
On call already?
Diagnosis: sick calf
Treatment: repeated poking with needles and tubes
I got back to my apartment after work on Saturday, wanting nothing but to sleep for an hour or two. My mom calls, and there's a sick sick calf at home. Since I'm the vet service for anything that doesn't need a real vet, I had to go home. It was just like being on call, and I haven't even started vet school yet! I forced myself awake, and talked my boyfriend into accompanying me home, and we went to see what the problem was.
The calf had a temperature and was listless. So listless that I probably could have given her the shot of antibiotics without sitting on her, but not quite so listless that she was going to swallow the sulfa drugs on the first try. The sulfa drugs come in the form of blue boluses, which you break in half before stuffing down the calf's throat...I had to give her 4 halves. I thought I had all of them down, but then I peered into her mouth and, surprise! 4 blue chunks that she was ready to spit out. On the second try I got her to swallow them all. And then we tubed her with electrolytes, which look like nothing so much as Tang.
I voted to stay at home and sleep, which meant the next morning I had to get up at 5 am to drive in to work. There were rather a lot of kennels to clean, for a Sunday. Thank goodness--otherwise I would have felt that going in was a waste. The calf, meanwhile, was still listless, though she was oddly eager to drink water from a bucket. Not normal behavior for a 3-week old. At least her mom hung around most of the day. Sometimes the cows don't do such a good job of keeping an eye on their calves. It was just as well that she went off to graze later, though. We tubed the calf with powerade, the electrolyte-substitute, and gave her a shot of Banamine. Banamine just to make her feel better.
This morning I found her in the wrong pasture. She had tried to follow her mom, I think, and wandered under the wrong wire. I escorted her at a slow walking pace all the way across the pasture. Her mom, whose pacience had been exhausted by yesterday's fast, stayed where she was and only occasionally gave an encouraging moo, through a mouthful of grass.
The final installation of shots was a single Nuflor injection this evening. This time I had to catch the calf, and I'm afraid she won't forgive me this time. Nuflor is a nasty sort of thing--super thick, and she needed a lot of it. At least I didn't have to force feed her any more energy drinks.
Treatment: repeated poking with needles and tubes
I got back to my apartment after work on Saturday, wanting nothing but to sleep for an hour or two. My mom calls, and there's a sick sick calf at home. Since I'm the vet service for anything that doesn't need a real vet, I had to go home. It was just like being on call, and I haven't even started vet school yet! I forced myself awake, and talked my boyfriend into accompanying me home, and we went to see what the problem was.
The calf had a temperature and was listless. So listless that I probably could have given her the shot of antibiotics without sitting on her, but not quite so listless that she was going to swallow the sulfa drugs on the first try. The sulfa drugs come in the form of blue boluses, which you break in half before stuffing down the calf's throat...I had to give her 4 halves. I thought I had all of them down, but then I peered into her mouth and, surprise! 4 blue chunks that she was ready to spit out. On the second try I got her to swallow them all. And then we tubed her with electrolytes, which look like nothing so much as Tang.
I voted to stay at home and sleep, which meant the next morning I had to get up at 5 am to drive in to work. There were rather a lot of kennels to clean, for a Sunday. Thank goodness--otherwise I would have felt that going in was a waste. The calf, meanwhile, was still listless, though she was oddly eager to drink water from a bucket. Not normal behavior for a 3-week old. At least her mom hung around most of the day. Sometimes the cows don't do such a good job of keeping an eye on their calves. It was just as well that she went off to graze later, though. We tubed the calf with powerade, the electrolyte-substitute, and gave her a shot of Banamine. Banamine just to make her feel better.
This morning I found her in the wrong pasture. She had tried to follow her mom, I think, and wandered under the wrong wire. I escorted her at a slow walking pace all the way across the pasture. Her mom, whose pacience had been exhausted by yesterday's fast, stayed where she was and only occasionally gave an encouraging moo, through a mouthful of grass.
The final installation of shots was a single Nuflor injection this evening. This time I had to catch the calf, and I'm afraid she won't forgive me this time. Nuflor is a nasty sort of thing--super thick, and she needed a lot of it. At least I didn't have to force feed her any more energy drinks.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Leisure days
Switching back and forth between work and home has been...unenviable. After about a day at home, I hate to leave. The farm is quiet, expansive, everything is growing--the garden needs some more weeding--and I like knowing what the weather is just by taking two steps out the door. In town, houses and roads break the great outdoors into tiny bits. Even once I go outside, it's still like peering through a keyhole.
And then I spend a day in town, and coming home to collapsed sheds and weeds and cows just scraping by on our scant pasture is depressing as all get out. So. I start school in two and a half weeks, which will spell the end of all my current lifestyle quandaries. I'll have new ones instead! Like, are my boyfriend and I actually compatible in the same apartment? And will I be around enough for it to matter?
I worked out an allocation of my hours for a typical week. Start with 168 hours in a week. Take out 56 for sleeping (8 hours a night) and 50 for the time I'm in classes or labs. That leaves me with 62 hours. Going with the 2-5 hours study time per 1 hour class time (class, no labs, equals about 25 hours a week), means that I need to spend a minimum of 50 hours a week studying. There's not enough time in the week for a higher average than 2.5 hours per class. Scary. As it is, I maybe get an hour a day to eat, travel, exercise, and maintain cordial relations with Mr. Roommate. And maybe an extra hour off on Saturday for good behavior. I know--I'll go grocery shopping!
Needless to say, my real schedule will be far more chaotic and haphazard. But I am looking forward to it, even while I'm fully appreciating my current leisure.
I'm gonna miss my dog, I know. I wish I could take him to school with me, but this is out of the question because: 1. He is a psychotic border collie with no house training. And 2. My apartment doesn't let me keep dogs anyway. Too bad in some ways--according to past vet students, pets are great for studying anatomy on a live animal. Ah, well. Perhaps I can schedule in regular visits to home if I count them as study time for anatomy.
But currently on the schedule: leisure time, so long as "leisure" includes things like weeding the squash, yelling at the dogs when they transgress the garden boundaries, moving fences, moving cows, cleaning kennels, and, this afternoon, shopping for school supplies with my mom! And eating equal quantities of watermelon and zucchini brownies. And cherry tomatoes. Nothing in the world is quite as awesome as fresh garden tomatoes. They're like steak with seeds. Juicy, savory, a little sweet.
I can hear the chickens squawking. Probably time to go yell at the dogs again. The sheer number of chicks seems to have bewildered them out of catching any, but they still try.
Hmm, can't hear the hawk today, though. There's a young hawk living in one of the oaks, who likes to fly the air currents and yells the whole time. From dawn to dark, you can hear him: "Eee! Eee! Mom, lookitme, I'm flying!"
And then I spend a day in town, and coming home to collapsed sheds and weeds and cows just scraping by on our scant pasture is depressing as all get out. So. I start school in two and a half weeks, which will spell the end of all my current lifestyle quandaries. I'll have new ones instead! Like, are my boyfriend and I actually compatible in the same apartment? And will I be around enough for it to matter?
I worked out an allocation of my hours for a typical week. Start with 168 hours in a week. Take out 56 for sleeping (8 hours a night) and 50 for the time I'm in classes or labs. That leaves me with 62 hours. Going with the 2-5 hours study time per 1 hour class time (class, no labs, equals about 25 hours a week), means that I need to spend a minimum of 50 hours a week studying. There's not enough time in the week for a higher average than 2.5 hours per class. Scary. As it is, I maybe get an hour a day to eat, travel, exercise, and maintain cordial relations with Mr. Roommate. And maybe an extra hour off on Saturday for good behavior. I know--I'll go grocery shopping!
Needless to say, my real schedule will be far more chaotic and haphazard. But I am looking forward to it, even while I'm fully appreciating my current leisure.
I'm gonna miss my dog, I know. I wish I could take him to school with me, but this is out of the question because: 1. He is a psychotic border collie with no house training. And 2. My apartment doesn't let me keep dogs anyway. Too bad in some ways--according to past vet students, pets are great for studying anatomy on a live animal. Ah, well. Perhaps I can schedule in regular visits to home if I count them as study time for anatomy.
But currently on the schedule: leisure time, so long as "leisure" includes things like weeding the squash, yelling at the dogs when they transgress the garden boundaries, moving fences, moving cows, cleaning kennels, and, this afternoon, shopping for school supplies with my mom! And eating equal quantities of watermelon and zucchini brownies. And cherry tomatoes. Nothing in the world is quite as awesome as fresh garden tomatoes. They're like steak with seeds. Juicy, savory, a little sweet.
I can hear the chickens squawking. Probably time to go yell at the dogs again. The sheer number of chicks seems to have bewildered them out of catching any, but they still try.
Hmm, can't hear the hawk today, though. There's a young hawk living in one of the oaks, who likes to fly the air currents and yells the whole time. From dawn to dark, you can hear him: "Eee! Eee! Mom, lookitme, I'm flying!"
Monday, August 4, 2008
When lambs calve, and other oddities
Vet school starts in two and a half weeks, and I've entered the giddy contemplation stage. Attendant to this is a compulsion to read blogs by vet students, and once I did that there was nothing for it but I must have one for my own. Yes! I too shall blog. Consistently, even, maybe. Though let's not be hasty. Let us remember what happened to the food blog (three entries total).
But anyway. The cows are out in the pasture where they're supposed to be, the calves are more or less on the right side of the fence with the cows. The dogs are hassling the chickens again. I have had to rethink my stance on broody hens. I hate tossing a mound of eggs out when I have no clue how close to hatching they are...but as a result we have a serious infestation of chicks. Thirty? Forty? Even Danny's getting tired of chasing them, and he's an obsessive compulsive Border Collie! Every now and then I hear a squawk from outside and have to run out, scream "DANNY!!" and wait until he bounces into view and sees me: "What?!"
But anyway. The cows are out in the pasture where they're supposed to be, the calves are more or less on the right side of the fence with the cows. The dogs are hassling the chickens again. I have had to rethink my stance on broody hens. I hate tossing a mound of eggs out when I have no clue how close to hatching they are...but as a result we have a serious infestation of chicks. Thirty? Forty? Even Danny's getting tired of chasing them, and he's an obsessive compulsive Border Collie! Every now and then I hear a squawk from outside and have to run out, scream "DANNY!!" and wait until he bounces into view and sees me: "What?!"
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