Baby's crazy mother; Conversational Spanish; Strands of lights?; Anti-parent rant

[grrgoyl]

Oy, what a weekend. Friday my biggest challenge was two hypothermic cats, Baby and Marmalade, who both required alternating every-2-hour temping and syringe feeding (which has recently been changed to "force feeding," which is what it's always been but I guess now we're calling a spade a spade). Temping I can deal with, but force-feeding is by far my most hated duty. When a cat doesn't want to eat, it involves a lot of snarling, spitting and tempers lost by both parties. I've got to scruff the cat with one hand and try to force its mouth open and shove the syringe down its throat with the other -- only to have the cat refuse to swallow and dribble most of my effort down its chest and all over me when I'm lucky, and try to reach out and get a piece of me when I'm not. I feel like a massive failure writing in the chart "Gave 4 cc" when all the day shift notes are closer to 10-20 cc, but then again the day shift has multiple pairs of hands.

So anyway, Marmalade (female of unknown age, dehydrated) didn't mind being syringe fed but hated being temped (like most cats). Baby (15-year-old male black & white in renal failure) couldn't stand anything by mouth, but when that thermometer showed up he would stretch out his back legs luxuriantly to give me easier access. I've never seen a cat welcome a thermometer quite so...eagerly.

Saturday evening the hospital called Tery to warn us that Baby's owners wanted me to call with an update that night. Ugh. One of the things I love the most about this job is precisely NOT having to speak to customers. The warning additionally stated that they were a little "intense." I had no idea what I was going to say. What owners don't understand is that even healthy cats, when stuck in a cage all night, are not terribly animated. When a sick cat hasn't moved for a few hours, it's pretty hard for me to determine if it's worrisome or merely ennui. Tery said it would be enough for them to know that I was there all night with their pet, that that's a huge comfort for most people.

I tried to get it over with first thing and called about 15 minutes into my shift. I spoke with the husband, who seemed perfectly reasonable. I answered his questions as best I could without sounding completely clueless. I made it clear I wasn't a doctor, could only provide basic medical care and information, and that a doctor would be in first thing in the morning that they could call. But then he said his wife was at work and would want to call me later with more questions. The phones are turned over at night to an answering service, and I had been warned by Tery not to give out the back line or else they'd be calling night and day. Not expecting this turn of events, I panicked and gave him my cell phone number. BIG MISTAKE.

The wife called an hour or so later. Again I answered her questions as best I could, then endured while she offered suggestions on feeding Baby (she swaddles him up in a blanket like a baby). Then she went too far and advised me that sometimes the IV line gets twisted up and the fluids don't get to the cat, make sure I keep an eye on that. Oh HELL no, I know you aren't telling me how to do my job. You've done your bit, you got the cat to the hospital. Now please have a bit of faith and let us take it from there.

I got rid of her only to have her call back an hour later to see if there was any change. This was when I first started to realize what a mistake I'd made. She insisted I put the cat on speakerphone so she could say goodnight. "Hi Baby, it's mommy. Sleep well, my Baby. Jesus is praying for you, my darling, Baby Jesus is watching over you tonight." Lady, your cat A) doesn't have a soul and B) might possibly be gay. The Baby Jesus doesn't care about him (hey, I'm just repeating what Christians believe, don't jump in my shit). The cat just stared blankly at the wall, but I had to pretend he had shown some kind of reaction to her voice.

She left me alone the rest of the night, but I left a note for the doctor to please make sure she knew not to keep calling me, because she seemed like the kind of person who, if she couldn't reach anyone the proper way, would use whatever number she had. I wasn't wrong. She called me in the middle of the night last night and left a voicemail asking about Baby. Which means either my request was shrugged off as silly or the woman was given the message and she ignored it. Which kind of grates my cheese; as Tery said, people are intimidated about bothering a doctor during off-hours, but anyone else is fair game.

This would all be much funnier if Baby wasn't put to sleep a few hours ago. The woman didn't take it very well, predictably. I don't mean to sound uncaring, but the cat was 15 years old, a pretty good run for a cat. Try keeping ferrets that live 6 years if you're very, very lucky. And I believe at some point taking extra measures to keep an animal alive is done more out of selfishness than for the animal's sake. Plus this woman is obviously a freak and the cat might be counting the hours before he could make his escape permanently.

(Speaking of ferrets, Itty Bitty Giddy has gone over the loft balcony edge a third time. The first two times he had something stuck on his head (grocery bag, yogurt container) but this time his vision was unobstructed. However, Duncan Munchkin was in the vicinity. Consequently we're considering changing Duncan's name to "Damien.")

~*~

Also Saturday night I was going to have workers in the building stripping and waxing the floors upstairs. This made me a trifle nervous until Tery said the odds were very good they'd be Mexicans with very limited English, which would match my very limited Spanish perfectly. I spent the entire drive over trying to construct and practice a request to let me know before they left ("Me dices a que hora vas, por favor" -- anyone have any idea how close I got?), all for nothing; not only did one of the guys speak passingly decent English, but they weren't done at the end of my shift and I ended up leaving them. Disappointed at my missed opportunity to practice some conversational Spanish, I had to content myself with commenting to his shivering, silent assistant in the parking lot, "Muy frio!" "Si, si, muy frio" he replied, slightly surprised. Snap! I am SUCH a geek.

~*~

We got our tree this weekend. We also went in search of new lights for Tery's seasonal balcony display. Her two-part plan: To outdo the Alcoholic (whose decorations consist of a single strand of blinking lights and oversize stars -- boring) and win the yearly HOA contest (we won last year, a $50 gift card to Target -- not too shabby). As we stared at the 80-foot wall at Target, an older man accosted the minimum-wage stock boy unloading a pallet from the backroom. "Do you sell strands of lights?" The kid was perplexed. "Strands of lights?" "Yes, strands. You know." The kid was puzzled, as were Tery and I. The only clarification for what he sought was, "You know, the kind you hang on the tree. Strands of lights." The poor kid answered, "Well sir, these are ALL strands of lights..." We didn't hear the conclusion of the conversation, we had to run away before we started snickering out loud. By the time we worked our way back, the kid was gone (quit, Tery said. "December 2nd and already I'm getting idiotic questions") and the guy was still eyeing the wall confusedly.

"Strands of lights" is the running joke this season.

Speaking of the 80-foot wall, not only was the kid unloading the pallet smack in the middle of the aisle, but there were about 10 other customers besides us shopping there. Do you think it ever occurred to the lady pushing the shopping cart with her kid that maybe it WASN'T the best route for her? She wasn't even shopping for lights, just passing through. People are such fucking idiots.

~*~

Oh, speaking of fucking idiots, kavieshana brought it to my attention that LJ has introduced a way to put ratings on LJ entries that might be unsuitable for younger viewers. Just another way to save parents from the responsibility of monitoring their kids. First, when I was a kid, an R+ rating just made things more enticing, not discouraging. Second, LJ (and the world) in general is unsuitable for younger viewers. I'm getting sick and tired of everything being sanitized for everyone just in case a child looks in the wrong direction. Raising your kid is YOUR fucking job, not mine. It's YOUR fucking responsibility to keep your kid out of my content, not vice versa. If this job is too much for you, use a fucking condom or quit your whining. Okay, think I'm done.

Comments

FIRST

[kavieshana.livejournal.com]

I've got to go to class, so ttyl bb, but I had to stop in and say this:

Look who is living in the yesterday! Those flags are old meme - no one'll use 'em. Today is all about the Soviet buy-out. THEY SOLD US TO THE RUSSIANS. Goodbye, Russian livejournalers.

[lizzieloudotcom.livejournal.com]

I like to think that my vet people LOVE it when I call them and I expect them all to know my cats by first names only. Obviously, there can be only one Ashleycrumb Tiny.

Bear, I really do like your rant about the ratings. I think I might copy it and use it as a disclaimer for myself as well.

[kavieshana.livejournal.com]

She insisted I put the cat on speakerphone so she could say goodnight. "Hi Baby, it's mommy. Sleep well, my Baby. Jesus is praying for you, my darling, Baby Jesus is watching over you tonight." Lady, your cat A) doesn't have a soul and B) might possibly be gay. The Baby Jesus doesn't care about him

That whole thing is pretty much gold. That woman reminds me exactly of my Aunt Who Is Not A Lesbian. I believe in treating your pet like family, too, but at some point you have to realize that a) your pets don't understand the finer parts of your religious beliefs and b) not being supersentient beings, they are not desperately clinging to life like a secretly gay Republican to his religious beliefs.

I don't speak any bit of Spanish, so I'm terribly impressed by your conversational skills.

You realize that overall you've far surpassed that $50 keeping the display up, right?