An Old Friend
I haven’t written in this space for two months now. This speaks to how consumed I am with my existence. Not how busy I am – that’s a different matter altogether – how consumed I am.
So, hello old friend. I have forgotten you as much as I have forgotten my quieter self.
I am in Melbourne today. I drove down from Gippsland in the morning. I ate my hot oatmeal as quietly as I could and scuttled out of the house at 6 am. The first thing I did was distinctly Melburnian (but it strikes me that this is distinct of all privileged city-folk), I chose the highest-rated hole-in-the-wall and lined up for 20 minutes to pay too much for breakfast.
It was seafood. I regret nothing.
I’ve spent the past two months in Camden. Uninterestingly, I contemplated my future further.
That’s why I’ve been quieter, though. Much is brewing but nothing is ready to be written. I’m no longer in the state where I think so much that I break down by the end of the day (or the middle of the day – it really depends). I feel like I’m sleepwalking through life. I’m pretending to know and pretending to care as the storm clouds gather.
In a more vet-ty vein, there have been a few interesting cases. Stuff that reminds me that I’m three-quarters a vet.
The headache inducing nature of medicine. A three-year-old male neutered Hungarian Vizsla who has had seizures for the past six months. He’s insured (thank God). He’s been on (high doses of) phenobarbitone and imeptoin and is now having cluster seizures pretty much every week. He’s not developed neutropaenia and thrombocytopaenia which can happen with phenobarbitone. Of course this has to occur in a dog with poorly controlled seizures. Of course.
The slapdash work of trying to save a calf as her mother lay dying with a broken hip and her teats half chewed by foxes and her right eye stolen by crows. There’s not much to write here. I wasn’t very helpful. My only job was rubbing the calf and trying to get colostrum from the cow’s battered udder.
There are other things I probably should have recorded from Camden. But I remember nothing from Camden except fear.
Have I mentioned I’m in a library? In a stunning turn of events, I am at the library. Home wherever I go.