Wednesday, April 13, 2005
we were out in the bar the other evening and my friend said to me, "sometimes i think i can't take it anymore, and then i discover that i can."
the context of the comment is irrelevant, because the sentiment is universal. i had no idea of the encompassing truth of his statement at the time because i was still cruising on the high of my new job. what can i say? when i am up, i am up, and silly little me forgot all about one of those other irritating universal truths, what goes up must come down.
not two weeks in and i can already see why i may not be as cut out for this vet gig as i had previously thought. some of the problems are tiny, borderline petty even, like the break room always has tons of snacks, none of them healthy of course. in less than 14 days there has already been a birthday, a going away, and a baby, this is all in addition to the thoughtful plate of pastries someone brings everyday just for the hell of it. to sweep the floor of the medical room properly i have to do it in concentric circles which make the view of the plate impossible to avoid. i am a woman of little will power, and though my inner arguments of impending fat ass may delay the inevitable i always shove something guiltily in my mouth before i am out the door.
it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for problem number two, which is the number of hours this job eats up of my life. i haven't had a job that i had to leave my house for or be on time for in almost 10 years. everything has been pretty flexible, with the exception of the occasional short term intense commitment kind of thing like my charity events, but that's sprinting, not distance running. now i get up early because i have to, not because i want to and suddenly the pleasure of being an early riser is gone. by the time afternoon arrives and i am about to start my home job i am exhausted, forget the gym, forget email, writing, or art, all i want to do is sleep. i look around and wonder how a whole world of people does this everyday for years and years.
it also didn't take too long before i started to catch my co workers talking behind each others backs. one of the main reasons i left traditional employment is because i cannot stand the sort of petty back biting that goes on in these settings. i get that it's the rule of microcosms, but it still makes me feel self conscious, paranoid, and icky. despite persistent rumors i don't have a thick skin at all, so i like to project polite and professional detachment. inside i am measuring every word, glance, expression, and movement of my body hoping i hit the right balance. you know, the one that keeps people from talking about you when you leave the room. it's an exercise in futility to be sure.
but these were all just things tugging at the back of my mind, minor annoyances more than anything, the combined weight of which could not out weigh the satisfaction i was feeling helping sick animals. in my interview my employer asked me how i would deal with the stress of the ones who don't make it. i considered the question briefly, reflecting on the many who have passed in the past, somehow forgetting the pain, and told her (with polite and professional detachment) that i was sure i could handle it. so yesterday when i saw a nurse administer a drip to a cat i didn't think anything of it and walked by continuing what i was doing. minutes later i saw her lay it across the drain on the table, limp. i asked her if she had sedated it for surgery and she told me no, she had just euthanized it. i looked at it, passed my had over its fur and wondered to myself how i could miss something like death happen before my eyes. how could i miss a life leaving the room a few feet away from me and not notice? but there it was, still warm, but altogether gone.
a sudden wave of sadness hit me, and i realized with all of the cats we have lost at the shelter over the years i was never *there* for it, i would come in and they would just be gone. here i was with a cat i didn't even know and it was ten times worse...i had to go into the break room and cry while everyone else went about their business as if nothing had happened, and i guess to them it hadn't. i had to stop and wonder how often i would have to see this, and if i really could. i was unable shake the accompanying mood for the rest of the day.
my co workers tell me i will get used to it in time, i am not so sure. my friends tell me to focus on the animals we help, the ones that greatly outnumber the ones we cant, but again i am not so sure. already my ear has become attuned to disaster and when i hear words like "renal failure" and "cancer" my heart skips to the end of the story prematurely. they way i see it, my only option at this time is to try to remember to embrace death itself, to keep my eye on the higher universal prize of connection and impermanence. perhaps i can bend my mind around to seeing this as a gift, because the presence of death can sharpen the appreciation of life. maybe i can see this as a way to bring me back to the path of meditation and awareness that i was on before my own grandfather died.
for now, i don't know, but the words of my friend are ringing in my ear and when i get up in the morning and think about not going to work because i am not sure i can take anymore, i go and discover that i can.
posted by Ms_Bunnie 7:19 PM
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