Wake me up when September ends...

Update from me - I'm still alive! It's been a trying week but things are improving.

When I took my job, there were a lot of promises - namely a permanent partner to work with, long hours of 9-7 but a dedicated lunch hour, training from the outgoing vet in generalities of the practice as well as certain things that were new to me (the increased emphasis on exotics and small mammals especially), etc.

That all sounds great! Until 1.25 days into the training, when the outgoing vet walked out of the practice while I was performing a surgery and didn't come back for her evening of appointments and rechecks, leaving me to flounder about. And then my partner got sick with a chest infection and was ordered off work. And everybody and their mother needed a refill, appointment, or surgery for the same day and I learned to hate the sound of the clinic phones.

I had the same sandwich in my lunch bag three days in a row. I did 5 surgeries (only one of which was a cat neuter) plus 2 other sedations yesterday (in my 11-3 surgery and "lunch" slot), and have never had less than 2 surgeries per day. Without considering my commute (supposed to be 20 minutes each way, closer to 40 minutes in the morning and 25 minutes in the evening) I am pulling 10.5 to 11 hour days, without any breaks. They wanted me to do 10 minute appointments - I've dialed back to 20 minutes with multiple 'catch-up' breaks through the day. Yesterday I was in the clinic alone and grossed 2150 BSP - 1500 BSP per day is considered standard for two vets.

I don't know why the universe felt I needed this little kick in the ass. Combined with the annoying bureaucracy of moving, culture shock, exhaustion from packing and travel, and fun things like a screw in my car tire ("tyre") it's been a rough week.

Justin's been great at emotional support, picking up the slack, making all of the meals, and keeping it together. And today I had time to eat a sandwich, finally make a list of the pharmacy so I can start memorizing the different drug names (and all of the hormonal drugs), AND I got out nearly on-time!

I guess we're starting off with a bang. And a trial by fire means that hopefully the rest of the year will seem easy in comparison. And my surgical skills are going to be "well sorted" (aka mad tight, yo) by the end of the year.

But at the same time, I'm not sad that it's October now. September 2015 (or at least the last week and a half of it) can suck it.