Monday, February 27, 2012

The Scorecard

I have worked for 15 straight days.
Of those days, 10 were regular appointment days. 
The other 5 were emergency only days.
I was on-call for 10 of those days.
I was a solo practitioner for 6 of the on-call days while my boss was on vacation.

Our practice radius is ~40 miles.
I have seen 41 appointments.
I have been on 13 emergency calls.
I have delivered 11 lambs, 3 (goat) kids, 12 pigs, and 3 calves.
I have answered 55 other phone calls from people asking/needing/wanting/thinking/whining.

Last night I had to to go to the farm owned by the gentleman featured in my last post.  He looks like Keanu Reeves and curses like a drunken sailor.

Sleep tonight is going to be amazing.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Doctor, May I?

2 a.m.

*ring ring*


"Doc, I've got a ewe in labor, one hind leg out since midnight and she's not making any progress.  <lots more talking, blah blah blah, I'm sooo not listening to the details, but then I hear something that makes me tune back in> I don't want you to come out, I just wanted to know if it was alright for me to go in and find the other leg."

What I want to say, "Dude... it's 2 o'clock in the morning and you've just told me that you decided to wake me up even though you don't want my help.  I honestly don't care if you want to pick her up and try to shake the lambs out."

What I actually say, "Yes, you should definitely go in and get that other hind leg.  Wash your hands, and use lots of lube. Get that leg extended behind and then pull the lamb.  I'm sure she would be glad for some help after struggling for 2 hours. Call back if you decide you need some help."

*Lights off. Back to sleep.*

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Death and Taxes

"In this world nothing can said to be certain, except death and taxes."  ~Benjamin Franklin

I don't have much to say about death other than it's just a part of life.

Taxes on the other hand... ugh.  I had my yearly date with one of Uncle Sam's minions this week and now I need to vent a little. 

Per my W-2 form, the government took over 27% of my salary this year.  Most of it went to the federal government, a big chunk went to Social Security (that economists say I'll never benefit from), another piece went to Medicare (I pay for my own health insurance), and the last bit went to the state of Maryland.  Regardless of the breakdown, that's a lot given that I'm also paying the government a significant amount of money for allowing me to spend 8 years in college/professional school. 

Speaking of student loan debt... anyone still in school, listen up.  I know that all along the way they tell you that it's okay to take out student loans because they are tax deductible.  Which is true.  Kinda.  Here is the fine print.  No matter how much money you pay back in a year, you can only deduct $2500.  Sucks, right?  It gets worse.  For every penny you make over $60K, the amount you can deduct goes down. So instead of a refund, this year I am required to pay additional taxes.  Because, you know, I have spare money just laying around and no idea what to do with it.  

The most ridiculous part of the whole experience was that my tax professional took it upon himself to advise me of how to gain additional deductions.  His first suggestion was that I adopt a child.  That's right.  Knowing that I'm a 28 year old, single female who rents, and works the equivalent of two full-time jobs, he decided that best way for me to get a tax refund (and thus have a more money) would be to add a child to my life.  Oh, and apparently I don't look fertile enough to make one of my own.  Ugh.

Death and taxes.  Ben Franklin was one smart cookie.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Random Musings From a Lazy Weekend

If I had a mini-fridge in my bedroom I would probably not leave my third floor sanctuary (aka my bedroom/bathroom) on my weekends off. And I have a spare walk-in closet that could house/hide one.

Kindle is the best invention ever. Period. 

It bums me out that authors never use the name "Julie" for the main character of a novel.  They might use it as the name of the hero's dead wife/fiance, but never for the main character.

If I could make a living reading chick lit (smut, bodice-rippers.... whatever you want to call them) I would kiss vet med goodbye.

If I were not a large animal vet, I would not need to rent an entire three-story townhouse in order to have access to a parking spot near outdoor electrical outlet (for the truck). I could rent a nice apartment for a much more reasonable price.  And I wouldn't wake up two flights of stairs away from the kitchen, so I wouldn't desire a mini-fridge for my bedroom.

Apparently I think in a circular fashion. Bummer.  I don't  like circles.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012


I'm human, and humans like being complimented (it's an ego thing).  Since I spend my days covered in various bodily fluids, compliments directed at me are never about my appearance and tend to go something like this:

"Wow, you handled Mr. Crazy-Ass Horse with No Manners really well!  He only rammed you into the wall twice and last year he threw the vet into the wall at least 5 times."

"I really appreciate how sweet you were to Ms. Hundred Year Old Decrepit Goat.  It's like you understand how frail she is and that I love her need her to live forever."

"Did you grow up on a farm?  It seems like you've actually got some common sense and creativity about working with cattle, which is nice since I do not have, nor do I intend to get, a proper restraint system."

And today, during the most difficult calving I have ever had to attend I got a really awesome compliment.  A dairy farmer said to me, "Damn girl, you are strong!"  And my adrenaline was pumping fast and furious, so I was like, "Hell yeah I am!" 

In a world where the media tells us that women are supposed to be pretty first and then smart/strong/capable, it feels really good to be appreciated for my brains, strength, and abilities. I'm not society's feminine ideal, but that's okay.  I am woman, hear me roar!