When I was very small I used to crawl under my fathers tee-shirt, snuggle down on his chest, and view the world through the rich colors of (usually) tie-dyed cotton clothing. It was very comforting to fit under there, his voice rolling over me, his heart keeping time.... I was not the focus of his attention, yet I was within the circle of his strength and it was enough.
Many years later (but really not quite enough) when my father died, I found some of those old relics from the seventies. They were hidden in the back of his closet - reminders, perhaps, of a much kinder time in everyone's life. I kept two, one blue and one red that had faded to apricot, my nineteen year old self not quite brave enough to face the world without a blankie.
And?
I have now successfully navigated two (and a half) rotations of senior year. Equine surgery began with a bang, but then quickly became unbearably quiet due to an outbreak of Equine Herpes Virus-1. My next foray into the world of vet-med was on the Equine Field service. Now this was right up my alley - mano-a-mano repairing injuries incurred when an old mare and a T-post came to odds (old mare took the worst of it), floating the teeth of some 120 dude horses, castrating llamas (my husband feels some concern that I know how to remove the testicles of several distinct species) AND getting to perform my first ever nerve block on a real live HORSE.
Next on to Dermatology... a service I knew nothing about - but quickly realized I actually knew less than that. Everyone is particularly kind and helpful, but man if it ain't pertaining to derm - they don't want to know about it. One third year resident is so clearly sick of bumbling senior students that she could barely hide her scorn when we stuttered over words such as "hypotricosis" or confusing "erythematosus" with "erythematous." During my case presentations she commenced with such heated eye-rolling and facial contortions I nearly asked her if she needed to excuse herself to use the restroom. This show of disdain was so overt, that a fellow class mate (to whom I am not particularly close) apologized for the contempt directed my way.
Awesome!
Actually it really was, because I have just discovered that I don't give a SH%$^&%$T any more. I'm totally used to getting things WRONG and man, I am just here to learn - putting my best foot forward.
Least I make it out to be more miserable than it really is - I am actually enjoying myself! Each day I am presented with yet another wonderfully quirky owner and their inevitably itchy dog (the doctor word for that is pruritic if you want to sound smart in some nerdy circles.) And once again, the things I end up learning don't really pertain to the biology of any particular disease (that's the easy part) but rather to the psychology of the individual that has just come through the door. I have learned that although we may have a medication to help this particular animal, that it is out of this owners reach financially, and that's OK.
I discovered that people feel guilty when you ask them questions such as "Are you still bathing Rufus once weekly?" because likely they are not - and that's OK too. I have leaned to preface these questions with a kindly "I'm just doing some information gathering, there are no right or wrong answers" or something to that effect.
I have run across folks that have researched madly on the medications that we prescribe (and that I still have trouble pronouncing) but don't understand that the side effects that they worry about aren't really seen in our veterinary patients. It has dawned on me that many people have suffered these side effects themselves, and they are afraid, and my job is to make them feel less alone. I have discovered that I like people and that has made any eye-rolling from a third year resident, eight years my junior, very unimportant.
Still...... some days I do give a sh(*@%&#t - and I just want someone to say "Wow! Good job - you're a rock-star" - and I flinch a bit when I stumble over "dermatophytosis." But it's usually just a moment, and if it gets too overpowering I can lay down on the floor with a faded old tee-shirt over my head, and if I angle my head just right I can hear a heart beat, that is my own, and it is enough.
