Mean Girls pt2…

I returned to General Practice Veterinary Medicine after four months of working  12-14 overnight shifts in Veterinary Emergency care. Time spent in ER was incredible in terms of experience gained and processing death from trauma. I truly miss the doctors and eager vet students I was fortunate to work with. Their love of medicine and the desire to save all God’s creatures from injuries was unprecedented. I realize the privilege to work with this crew and although  BP misplaced me in terms of job title and where I truly needed to be, which inevitably led to my failure-I forgive. Nothing can replace what I saw, did, treated, prayed over, held as the last breath was released, can ever measure up to the experiences gained in working overnight emergency.

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Fate’s OHE-spay (uterus)

And…

BP will accept me back.

After…20141128_154254-1 (2)

More time spent in GP.

Yes. I miss ER.

But…

My body and emotional mindset is exhausted.

I no longer shed tears at PTS’s (put to sleep). 20141107_103448 (2)

Not in front of clients.

Not in the bathroom.

Not on the train going home.

But…

At night, when I stare at the ceiling at bedtime.

I guess it’s all good in some sick way for I can now concentrate on the owners and offer more support from mi alma which no longer feels.

My blog on transitioning to this career has ended. My thoughts on the continuance in this career  as well as school is now questionable. 20151024_071642 (2)

Because…

The other side of this business is still present and for that matter,  will always be. As long as there are insecure, unstable nurses-the Mean Girls , in this field the drama will thrive.

Don’t want to end up on NY1 so I’ve grown thick skin, a thick heart an emotional void and most importantly the desire to have only working relationship with them.

No, you are not my friend or close confident.

No, I do not need your approval to validate how I do my job.20150417_152313 (2)

No, I will not gossip about other co-workers, maliciously or even constructively with you.

No. No. No.

Accusing me of not cleaning?

Please watch the video.

2016 is in full string and transitions seem to be lining up. I’ve thought about leaving the state in search of Tech Nursing work. My mind is working, talking to others who have relocated and gauging if this is a necessary transition to make.

Time will tell. Actually the Fall will tell.

I’m biting at the bit and I love an adventure.

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Why not?

Cali, Georgia, one of the Carolina’s. Florida? Virginia, Washington, Seattle?

Who knows.

 

I Would Do Anything for Love…

Yeah right!

Still single so how could I?

But…

I would do anything for love when it comes to my fur babies.

I’m already doing it. My salary is theirs. Working for the  six animals in the household. Four require serious and not so serious medication while the other two are thriving.

Health report of the fur babies:

Tara-Habby-Queen Bae.

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Big E-Leader of the upstairs pack.

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Winnie-Herpes

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Fate-Fibrinous Anteriour Uveitis in both eyes-FIP suspect

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Fate- 9 months

Pi Patel-aside from a career as a Mulberry model –possible liver cancer/dermatologic issues

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Toby-cataract and liver issues

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The caretakers:

Me-increased consumption in wine and trying to be a runner as well as trying to be a Buddhist,  trying to be an Episcopalian, while pretending to be a Catholic.

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Mom, my mom-bitchin about the fur babies!

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It’s all good.

At least, I keep telling myself, mantra style.

I’m gonna brag a bit.

No.

Not brag about the restaurants I visited, the vacations I had, my PR running time or even the enormous amount of weight I lost.

I’m a gonna brag about the Furbabies.

The Furs.

Home Cooking:

Anti inflammatory recipe for Pi Patel and now Tobias thanks to my dear neighbour Karen!

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This is how they roll…in the house of course.

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Tara-Habby’s throne

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The Habby’s private bathroom and rooftop lounge

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Private gym and library

Ok.

Enough of the brag.

 

Homegoing or saying Goodbye to a neighbour…

Recently, I wrote on my FB page about the passing of a neighbour :

“Another neighbour passed on…three deaths this month on the block, in ‘MY ‘HOOD’ . She arrived on this block in 1958 , way before it became ‘other people’s neighbourhood’. My familia arrived here in 1962. We are losing the old timers on my block, the TRUE neigbours who are replaced by neighbours I don’t care to know or have. Mi alma is overloaded right now. The passage of time is not always nice. Rest in blissful peace Mrs *******!”

My FB peeps offered condolences and encouragements to keep on being keeping on. One in particular, a dear friend and my priest, reminded me, I was not to forget at one time, we were, the newbies on the block and to give the new neighbours a chance.

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At first I was frustrated, reading his response for I know of conflicts my neighbours of colour endured from the Italians and Irish groups who were here before them. These neighbours would spit on the sidewalk as they walked past. This was the year of 1958. By the time I was born in 1964, those same neighbours who once spat, cooed at me as their teenaged daughter pushed my carriage up and down the block. Go figure. Integration is integration, first met with fear then dissolved into acceptance, once we see the other as not being as bad as we thought. The daughter and her family are still on this block and I adore them dearly.

“The neighbours I don’t care to know”, are the young couples, the hip singles, the expats from Manhattan, looking to score a bigger apartment with amenities and a doorman. Who cares if the rent is twice what you paid for the tiny studio apartment in your former four flight walkup? These invaders are on the scene, invading my ‘hood’.

And that’s it.

They arrive and spread, dissimilating the makeup of the neighbourhood, forgoing ‘Good Mornings’, blocking the sidewalks while conversing with other arrivals about pilates, the new restaurant, drinks, backstabbing and eloquent gossiping (talking trash in my language).

I’m ranting.

And…

I meant to write about my neighbour.

The one whose Home Going was attended by most of the neighbours on the block who laughed, cried and rejoiced in the stories of her life, her giving and feeding of everyone. It was a beautiful service which lingered on after the night was over and brought smiles to us neighbours, as we reminisced about it the days after. I will miss seeing her outside, sweeping and cleaning up or stopping by her place to talk awhile after finishing my piano lessons with her brother who lives upstairs.

I guess it’s going to take a while to get to that place where I “see the other as not as bad as we thought”.

I’m not there yet.images.jpg

And, may move before it comes.

Mrs ******* may not have been thrilled about the changes of the guard (people) in the ‘hood’. We joked and talked about it.

But…

She always said “Good Morning” to everyone regardless if she received a response or not.

I guess that is a place to start.

Just say ‘Good Morning’.

 

***images from the World Wide Web***

 

 

 

 

If I Could Start Over Again…

If I could start over again…

I’d go to Honduras and never come back

I’d go to Jamaica and never come back

I’d go to Cuba and never come back

I’d go to Canada and never come back

I’d go to England and never come back

I’d go to Puerto Rico and RUN back (sorry)

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If I could start over again…

I’d play the piano instead of dabbling in photography

I’d become a Gardner

I’d stick to one career for 50 years

If I could start over again…

I’d be a Buddhist instead of a Catholic who decided later in life to be an Episcopalian who has now reverted back to a Catholic while still haphazardly trying to be a Buddhist

If I could start over again

I’d be an extrovert instead of an introvert sucking everyone’s energy instead of having my energy sucked

I’d be a selfish all consuming asshole

I’d have road rage 24/7 and then some

I’d never have empathy or compassion

I’d sprinkled my sidewalk trees with pepper to make the doggies sneeze

If I could start over again…

-I’d be a world class runner like Meb, skinny and a vegan with flawless skin and killer abs

-I’d never touch alcohol,l opting for kale/spinach/ beet smoothies instead

-I’d be a nutritionist making money off of people, telling them what to eat, then watching them fail and devise another food plan to watch the failure, then tell them what to eat etc.

If I could start all over again…

I’d live in Manhattan-Washington Heights just to say I did and I’d try the Bronx-South Bronx just to say I did

I’d leave this city once and for all, cut all ties and say “Hasta La Vista” with “Baby” included at the end

But…I can’t.

 

So. What say you?…

I am.

 I run.

I run intervals.

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2 minutes running/1 minute walking for 4 miles as of now but maybe not next week.

So. What say you…?

Yeah, the naysayers are out there in full abundance. Saying stuff that has no use being said and that being said, they’re still saying stuff.

 “You’re not really running if you walk”

 “5k? Are you kidding me? That’s nothing!”

 “How can you run 3 miles without any training?”

This also includes the wonderful eye sweep of my body from head to toe and toe to head.

13445403_10209927789417135_1762030051630420099_nYep.

Since I’m way over society’s guidelines for skinny, how could I possibly run a 5k?

Whatever Biatches!

I am.

I run.

I run intervals.

I run up to 15 miles per week. I eat more calories than I burn off and it’s ok. I foam roll like I’m a muffin in the making even after running a 5k. Oh. Don’t need to foam roll after running so little miles?

Whatever Biatches!

It’s ok because it’s my ok, not yours.

My goal for 2016 is to run as many 5k’s (that’s 3.1 miles) as I could register for on a monthly basis. Some of those races are with NYC Runs and others are virtual races. Virtual meaning, I register for a race  linked with a charitable organization, run on my own, send in my results and collect my BLING! I aspire to run/walk a 10k then onto a half-marathon-13.1 miles.

But…for now I’m happy with the 5k’s.

Did I hear you say somethin’? Guess not.

I am.

I run.

I run intervals. 

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There but for the grace of God…

On a Wednesday in March, mi perro, my mini schnauzer, my mulberry doggy ware model, my Pi Patel, my fur baby underwent an ultra sound due to blood work which revealed  high liver enzymes and cholesterol levels.

He was diagnosed with possible liver cancer. 

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On a Thursday, the following week, mi gato negra, my domestic short hair, my sassy than thou, my Fate, my fur baby had cloudy eyes and visited an ophthalmologist.

Based on the status of her eyes, she more than likely has FIP. Fate (2)

Can I please dig a hole in the ground, preferably in the backyard, crawl down and hibernate for the next 7 years? Is it okay to randomly scream as loud as possible, opening my mouth and having no sound escape-a silent scream like the figure in the “The Scream“.

I’ve emotionally held up owners or held their fur babies paws during a euthanasia for the past three years. I wonder who the hell will offer the same support to me?

 No one.

Because I Will Not Let It Happen.

Grieving is personal and I protect myself intensely.

I grieved for my father alone.

Silently crying at night, reeling from the pain of losing a parent to trying to feel the pain my father endured throughout his life.  Accepting the pain of knowing my father has permanently left this earth and won’t be returning is an ongoing process.

I grieved for my cousin alone.

I cried silently at work. I was numb at home. I cried walking through Target after seeing the Dove body wash he raved about using. I’m still in a state where I know he’s gone but can’t fathom his presence gone from this earth.

My memories of those two souls are always in my present. I live in the house where memories were created as we once dwelled there together. The backyard and third floor is my cousin. The house itself, the   basement and the stoop is my father.

Grief and memories are intertwined.

One persons’ grief process is not another’s.

The loss is real. I’ve lost a parent. I’ve lost a cousin.

I’ve also lost two neighbours within a month. I want to say three for my ex-brother in law lived for a time  in the ‘hood when it was the ‘hood’ and not the ‘neighourhood’.

2016 is a year of sadness and reckoning.

There but for the grace of God go i.

Muchness

More words…

Soon to come.

For a bit of a spell,

 I lost my muchness.

But… 

IT’S BACK!!!!

 

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