Christmas Eve

Christmas. I don't care how much you hate the endless round of Madonna singing Santa Baby, or Bruce Springsteen missing half the words to Santa Claus is Coming to Town, there's something about Christmas that makes us all smile at each other a little more.

Positive Thinking

Sometimes, it amazes me what our four-legged friends can survive. I've seen animals with internal organs literally outside of their body wall (a liver lobe in one case, a kidney in another) who through sheer force of personality refuse to give up. It's a little humbling to think about.

On Call

So I'm rambling a little, because I'm stressed out again. Work, of course. There is a phone call I hate, above all others, that I just got. This call NEVER occurs during regular business hours. It goes like this:
- Hello, this is Dr. Blah. How can I help you?
- My name is Ms/Mr X. I have a puppy. It has never been to a vet because I cannot afford/never got to getting its shots. It is now throwing up and won't eat and having diarrhea. It looks sick. You need to see it now.
- Ok, I agree that this is a bad situation that requires attention. I am obligated to let you know that it will cost a minimum of $X for me to see your puppy on emergency tonight, and may be higher depending on what is actually causing his illness.
- Can I make a payment plan?

Here's the thing: I'm a veterinarian, not a banker. I don't make loans; I don't have the financial backing to support paying for my salary and supplies until you can pay me back (if ever). I don't have the support of the federal government to subsidize your pet's care (unlike human hospitals). And yet, if I don't take your pet in tonight, I will feel horrible, because I know that depending on what the actual diagnosis is, I am condemning your pet. There is literally NO answer to this situation that does not make me the worst person in the world. And this happens far too often for me to say, "You know what? Maybe this person is just down on his/her luck. Maybe this is just temporary." This happens at least twice on a weekend on-call. I don't know if people realize, but all it is is guilt transfer. You feel guilty, because you own a pet you cannot take care of, so you call me, and then it's my fault. Even though it's not my pet; even though I've offered to help you get Care Credit; even though if I see you, and all the pets like you, I will soon not be able to afford to take care of anyone.

Sigh. On a more positive note, I went to a conference in San Diego last week. It's required by law that vets have to doing "continuing education" every year by going to these things. It was actually really great to remember all the things I love about medicine. And, since I was on my own, it was nice to walk through the city and not have to worry about my son running out into the street or slowing down for the husband. Although it was lonely; I'm not used to finding restaurants to eat at on my own and ended up eating a lot of take out in the hotel room. Boo. Will have to do better next time.

And if you happen to be in San Diego, go to Extraordinary Desserts. Not just for dessert; they have great sandwiches, wine, and REAL tea. And the desserts will blow your freakin' mind. Mmmmmm.

First Post (and Explanation)

I'm not a big blog fan, but lately I need to vent, and I guess I need to feel like someone is listening. I'm 30 years old, married, one kid (boy, age 7). I'm a veterinarian, just out of school. I have 2 cats, a dog, and a bearded dragon. And I feel like I'm drowning.

Today my husband and I had a fight. It was stupid; I'd asked him to get up (at 9 am) to take care of the pets and the child so that I could sleep a little. I'd been up until 3 working on the boy's Halloween costume (he wants to be Nightcrawler; you can't find one of those online); the Husband had been up until 3 playing Minecraft. When I got up at 11, one cat (the loud one) had been fed. The dog had neither been fed nor walked, the outside cat had not been fed, and the child had gotten his own poptarts. Husband was asleep on the couch. I was annoyed, but not surprised. I walked and fed the dog, got the child to feed the outside cat, and started lunch for the boys. The husband came into the kitchen, pulled a pack of brats out of the fridge and said I should use them. I sighed and said, sure I guess I can do that. The husband stormed out of the room, claiming I was always mad at him for no reason. I told him he knew perfectly well why I was a bit upset (I had not raised my voice at any point) and that if he wanted to pretend that I was being irrational, that was fine but I wasn't going to start a flame war over something this dumb. I told him that I understood that I did most of the chores on the weekend, because he has to take care of the child for the most part during the week due to my job. He said that if I wanted more things to get done I needed to be home more.

I work 42-60 hours a week, depending on how much emergency calls I have. I hate emergency; I hate that I am away from home as much as I am. No one likes living most of their life at work, certainly not me. I hate that I miss so much of my son's life. But it's the only (and I do mean ONLY) veterinary job within an hour's drive of my house, and when I graduated, my husband insisted he didn't want to relocate. I'm horribly underpaid and overworked at work. I'm still trying to figure out the "being a doctor" thing, and I'm often frustrated by how little I feel like school helped with that. I don't leave any later than anyone else I work with.

After our fight, I came downstairs, put my hands on the sink, and thought about divorce. For the most part, we get along really well. We like a lot of the same music, we share similar views on politics and religion, and can discuss our differences intelligently. We both love our son. But if he could live in a one-bedroom apartment with a bed and a desk and a TV, he would, and he doesn't want anything to do with my four-footed life. I don't know how to reconcile this. I literally cannot "be home more" without getting another job, and there isn't one here. I could spend ALL my time at home being a Mom and a Wife, but then what happens to me? I already have no topics of conversation that do not involve Mom/Wife/Vet, and all of my hobbies that I used to love are dying. I used to read a book a week at least; now I read one a month maybe. I used to sew and cross-stitch, now I feel like I can't pick up a project in the hour or two each day I have because I'll either barely get into it before I have to go to bed or be called in, or it will keep me up so late I'll be exhausted the next day and mess up at work. About the only thing I do any more is play half an hour of Civilization at night; I never finish a game.

It's been two hours since we fought. I'm going to take my son and the dog to the park for a while now. I wish this post wasn't so depressing; my life isn't always like this and I'll write something more positive soon. I just needed to vent, and pretend someone gives a damn.


PS- Told husband not to pull that card. Husband agreed it was a cheap shot. Still ended up doing chores all day while he did work-work, and played more Minecraft. Yup yup.