Regrets, fears, and sleepy cats

Should be studying Derm. Can't make myself study any more tonight. Can't help but wonder what kind of student I would be if I had the ability to really focus, to get up early and study all day, to go to every class and really pay attention. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing my future patients a disservice, but at this point it's a little late for that. Maybe once I get in the clinics I'll be motivated, energized, turn into the kind of student I always think, somewhere deep inside, that I could be, that I desperately want to be. I'm terrified to walk into my Large Animal Emergency/Critical Care rotation on January 3, knowing how unprepared I probably am. I'd like to think that all that knowledge is stored somewhere in my brain, and that it'll all come out when I need it, but I'm just not sure. Even scarier, in a way, will be all those small animal rotations, where I really want to shine, really want to learn, but am so afraid that I'm going to stumble, that I'll go blank even when it's something I really know, just because I get nervous when people fire questions at me. I guess I'm going to have to get used to it.

Crazy Cat is asleep on my printer, her head hanging off the side, twitching in REM sleep and dreaming kitty dreams. Sometimes I wish I were a cat.

TV makes me cry

I'd like to believe that's all it is, but right now it's not. I'd also like to think it's just PMS, but it's not.

I push people away, so that when I need them they're not there anymore.

Sometimes I think I'm really boring

Reading over my last post, I find myself whiny, annoying, and generally uninteresting. While I'm still in a pretty awful mood, I'm going to try not to whine too much today. I've got a cat purring in my lap, so things just can't be that bad. Our spay dog from last week was adopted this weekend - I'm so glad that she's not living in a cage anymore. I'm going to try once again to post a picture of her:

Oh good, it appears to be working. Isn't she cute? Check out those muscles!

And while we're at it, here's our first spay dog, on which I was the primary surgeon. I don't know what happened to her, but I'm sure she's been adopted by now. They do a pretty good job of getting these girls into new homes. The picture totally doesn't do her justice, but here she is:


Trying to be positive. Looking at these dogs whose lives I've been able to touch makes me feel a little better about myself. Plus, I did surgery and the dog survived. So that's cool.

Trichotillomania

Tearing out my hair this week. Too much to do, too little time, too many crazy girly hormones making me act/feel like a bitch. Our spay dog, while a total cutie (I tried to upload a picture, but that crashed the browser, so you'll just have to trust me), was also something of a nutcase. 22 kg of pure muscle who refused to allow much manipulation. We couldn't take a temperature or draw blood until she was totally out, which took 45 minutes despite a whopping dose of pre-op drugs. So we were the last group to start surgery, and the last to leave recovery. She needed extra drugs so she wouldn't destroy us while we waited for her to warm up post-spay, not that we could get an accurate temperature since we couldn't get near her rear end. And of course by morning she was a sweet puppy again. Despite all the trouble she gave us, I'm still sad to send her back to PACCA. She's a cute dog, though, so she should find a home. Hopefully with people who know a good trainer...

So that was Wednesday. Thursday after class I had my ES history/PE experience, which was blessedly short due to the near-total lack of animals in ES at the time. No one really wanted four clueless third-years prodding at the single patient, a recently unblocked cat, so we examined a perfectly healthy dog belonging to a clinician. Thursday night we played an intramural football game. We remain undefeated (woohoo!) and I actually caught the ball. We scored on the next play. It was totally awesome. R threw a touchdown pass later in the game, and I was proud to be her roommate. Just a few more games to go for team Tie & Lock. I'll miss football next year - it's been a nice change from the daily grind.

So then there was the Med/Surg exam this morning. Yes, I played football the night before an exam. And no, I hadn't gotten through all the lectures yet at that point. It wasn't too bad, though... and it seems like no matter how much or how little I study for Med/Surg, I always end up with a B. Hopefully that continues to hold true.

Reading this over, the week actually doesn't sound that bad. Most of the stress came from trying to study Med/Surg in the middle of a surgery week with an uncooperative dog. Our next one's gonna be worse, though - test monday, surgery wednesday (and I'll be the anesthetist, which is so much less fun than surgeon or assistant), and then another test friday. And it's the week after Thanksgiving. Great. Hopefully I'll be less irritable that week. Going home for a few days and just not being with the same people every single freaking day will be nice.

Oh, and I got Early Entry (everyone who applied got it), so I'm happy about that. My first rotation (in January) will be Large Animal Emergency/Critical Care. Oy vey.

Off to sew up teddy bears for little kids in the morning at the Commerce Bank Carnivale of the Dogs in Rittenhouse Square. Should be entertaining.

Fingers crossed

Early Entry application is in... now I wait. Not that doing large animal block would be the end of the world - I'd just rather not. But am I really ready to start clinics in January? I have to remember that it's still supposed to be learning time. I'm not supposed to know everything just because I'm wearing a white coat, right?

I stole the new title of the blog from a great book about vet school (scroll down). But I do sit in the back row, so it fits. Yeah. Maybe I'll change it again, but for now it's the best I've got. Not that anyone's reading this anyway. At the moment this is just my journal, but I'm writing with the idea that someone could be reading, or that someday in the future this blog will become immensely popular and people will go back and read my early posts.

Beagle boy found a home!

For the past two weeks, there has been a beagle in my living room. He was cute and rambunctious and I called him Charlie. We did everything we could to find his owner, but it seemed like she just didn't want to be found. So this weekend my roommate (I haven't decided whether to use names on this blog yet) took him to visit her parents (and their three beagles, one big chocolate lab, and three cats), and they've decided to keep him. I'll miss him - he's totally adorable and lots of fun - but the cats will be happy that he's gone. And frankly, I'm just not ready for a dog.

It seems a little pathetic, really. I'm 26 years old, a freakin' vet student, and I can't take care of a dog. But I'm just not there yet. Walks 4 times a day, the constant need to play... I guess I'm too selfish right now. I don't understand how people my age have kids already - I'm still way too immature for that. A cat I can handle, but that's about it. Will I ever grow up? Do I want to?

Everyone else is doing it

I've been thinking about starting one of these blog things for a while, but every time I got close to signing up, something stopped me. Do I really want people reading this? What if no one reads it? How much can I reveal? Should I use it as a journal (since I'm terrible at keeping an actual written journal), and just not tell anyone about it? What if no one cares?

This kind of thought process keeps me from getting anything done, ever. Stupid brain.

Anyway, with 29 med/surg lectures to study for Monday morning's exam, this seemed like the perfect time to get started. I've spent countless hours reading the blogs of strangers, and I'm ready to become yet another voice in the internet wilderness.

So who am I? A native New Yorker living in West Philly. A third year veterinary student, a little freaked out by the prospect of actually being a doctor in less than two years. Okay, a lot freaked out. Owner of Crazy Cat, the cutest little weirdo ever. Irredeemable procrastinator.