No one has ever accused me of being one of those delicate flower types of girls; more than once I've been called tough as nails. Both of those are good things because vets need to be tough and not just mentally tough. I'm talking about the physical stuff. We are constantly bending, lifting, restraining, and dodging. The small animal vets are dodging teeth and claws, and the large animal vets are dodging everything else. Bottom line: I am more than capable of taking a hit and getting back up, but damn. This week has been ridiculous.
Monday - Kicked in the ribs by a 200 pound calf.
Tuesday - Slammed into a barn by a horse.
Wednesday - Kicked in the mouth by a 50 pound lamb.
Thursday - Worked through the pain from the first 3 days of the week. By "worked through" I mean drove nearly 400 miles and saw 11 appointments, all in 12 hours.
Friday - Got my ass handed to me by an alpaca. It was down, sedated... and then... well to be honest I'm not exactly sure what it did. But one second I was standing and the next I was flying backwards, landing back first on my metal bucket 4 feet away, and had an alpaca tap dancing on my torso.
Today has been okay so far, but at the rate things are escalating..... *shudder* I just ask that, for the rest of this weekend, the on-call gods be kind to me as I continue to move gingerly, that Advil continues to relieve pain without putting a hole in my stomach, and that any other sick/angry animals target uninjured body parts.
This job is hard. Wimps need not apply.
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