Dr Ferox's life as a veterinarian

Some days when I am on call there are three voices in my head that respond to people’s problems.

Client: My rat is having trouble giving birth and has been going overnight.

Voice 1: Rat? WFT? I don’t know how to treat a birthing rat!

Voice 2: C’mon, she’s obviously really worried about it, otherwise she wouldn’t have rung the emergency service.

Voice 3: Now this we have to see.

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Occasionally at work I have to service a number of branch clinics, each about an hour away from home  base. It’s not a bad (but long) drive and it takes all day to see the three clinics, so it’s usually not too bad. The first two are supposed to be quieter, allowing some time for lunch, but not on my day.

I arrived at the second clinic 30 minutes early so I could have lunch, but the lady with the keys hadn’t arrived and the carpark was already filling up with people and pets.

So I started seeing patients in the carpark while I waited for the clinic to open. The work was steady and I ended up running overtime trying to see everyone. The next clinic (which I arrived late to) was no better- as busy as all the others had been.

So it was approaching 4:30, after an unusually busy day, in which I hadn’t had any food since 7:30 this morning, when I went to the housecall that I had promised to do.

Let me explain something to you: Housecalls Suck. They seriously suck, which is a big reason why most vets don’t do them anymore. You can’t control the environment, you usually don’t have all the equipment you’d want for every eventuality and you don’t have trained nurses to handle the animals with you. Not only that, but you’re in somebody else’s house and they always have great expectations. Everything just makes it harder to be a medical professional.

Not only that, but the sort of people who insist on housecalls and refuse to come to the clinic tend to be a little crazy.

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It’s getting really bad, especially when I work the weekends. Weeks and days just merge together and there’s no sense of the start or end of the week. There’s no break to look forward to, and my days off become “recovery time” where I madly try to make up for everything that I didn’t do during the week.

I’m forgetting which day of the week it is and as such my ability to org anise anything is plummeting.

I did 60 hours last week, with three nights on call after work, and got called back in three times for emergencies.

It helps a lot having my partner living with me, but I still feel like I’m running ragged every day.

So please forgive my recent absence.