Life – Page 12 – Anélemc's Writing

Posted on September 28, 2014September 28, 2014 by Anelemc · 1 Comment

Gus…

Yesterday, I saved a dog on a Saturday morning in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

He was running across a busy street known as Prospect Park West, adjacent to Prospect Park in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I was on my way to work at the clinic about to cross this street to walk on the side of the park when a dog ran into the middle of traffic.

Well…

I ran out into the middle of traffic to stop the cars from potentially running over the dog.

Well…

The dog and myself were lucky enough to not meet HIM, our maker that day. I was able to hold back traffic but not the dog, now running down a block. The Farmers Market was taking place at the time so lots of humans were roaming the area. I called out to a jogger, “Please grab the dog”. He did so, hesitantly.

I made my way towards the dog and slowed down my pace as I approached it with my hand extended. The dog sat down, tail wagging and the jogger released his hold on the harness.

I wrapped my fingers around the metal link and did not let go.

The dog had tags on the collar…!

I sat on the curb, with Gus leaning on me, as a small crowd of witnesses gathered. I called the owners, balancing the tag with the info and punching the numbers into my cell. Others from the crowd volunteered to hold Gus.

I declined.

I was not going to let this angel out of my fingers.

A voice responded to my call and the wife of the husband who was walking the dog in Prospect Park was hysterical. She was at work and had no idea this transpired. I told her our location and promised to wait until her husband arrived.

Meanwhile the crowd slowly dispersed as I relayed the information about the owner coming.

Boy…was I gonna be late for work.

I’ve worked at PPAC for over a year now and cannot recall a time I was late.

It was hard to move with him as he was too big for me to carry with my bags and I had no leash to guide him but we made our way over to a nearby bench.

I heard the husband-owner calling to Gus before seeing him as my back was turned to the side. He ran up to us and Gus was so excited to see his owner. He thanked me profusely, saying I saved his kids’ lives because if he returned home without Gus, they would be devastated. He apologized and admitted while in the park with Gus, he took his eyes off him for a moment, and he was gone. He wanted my address, to send flowers, to drop off a gift. I declined and I stretched out my hand. He grasped it firmly and we shook. He had tears in his eyes and I almost broke down crying.

Well…

Prior to this happening I was making my way to work was feeling discouraged and experiencing serious second doubts about my career choice. It can be frustrating and confusing at times when doubt seeps in the alma.

I love climbing mountains, and I love challenges and I feel stuck in a rut right now-a rut caused by my own psyche and wanting to know everything all at once.

Gus was a sign, in a strange way. Meeting him on that Saturday morning was a wake-up call.

I am, where I am supposed to be right here and now.

When I made it to work, I was deemed a hero. I saved Gus’ life. The owner (wife) phoned and asked for my info to send a gift.

I declined…again.

I told her I was a vet tech and she laughed and said Gus was lucky to have run into me. She asked where I worked and I told her. Hopefully, we’ll get another client.

In the meantime, thank you Gus.

Yesterday, a dog named Gus saved me on a Saturday morning in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Posted on September 10, 2014 by Anelemc

Accomplishment…

Sundays At the Clinic

A year and three months have passed since my transition to this profession.

What a transition!

At times, it is difficult to allow myself to feel proud of accomplishments gained along the way. Doubt is a hurdle to overcome and confidence gets the job done.
Such as placing my first catheter!!

Although, the catheter was inserted at ‘the other place’, the head tech at the clinic was instrumental in igniting my confidence to do this in the first place.

During a fill-in day prior to a dental surgery, the head tech shared her experience with me in placing catheters and shared a valuable trick, which has to do with a thumb and a vein. She demonstrated her technique by placing a catheter on lamb and I made two attempts on the animal for the procedure and almost got it on the first try but doubt and apprehension took over.

But…

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Posted on August 21, 2014 by Anelemc

Pyometra or Canine Hysterectomy

Sundays At the Clinic

Today, which is Wednesday and not a Sunday, I was at the Clinic to observe a Pyometra procedure on an eight year old female pug. Pyometra is a uterine disease, which is usually the result of not spaying a female animal. Predominant in female dogs, this infection is also seen in cats, rabbits or better yet, let Wiki clarify it.

In order to further my studies through observation and participation, I decided, with my preceptor’s permission, to observe unique surgeries (other than neuters, spays and growth removals) that may pass through the clinic on my days off from the other place. Sundays are non-surgery days at the Clinic and my surgery participation, at this time, at the other place are limited, and basically entail monitoring anesthesia, at this time…for now…hopefully not in the future…as scribbling on paper can be BORING.

The other place, in time will have…

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Posted on August 10, 2014 by Anelemc

Sundays at the Clinic

Sundays At the Clinic

Although I am currently working at another clinic three days a week/10-12 hours a day, my Sundays at the Clinic is still in place.

It’s hard to leave home.

Home is where the Heart is.

The Clinic is where it began. Where the mid-life crisis compelled me to change careers and guided me towards answering an ad which led to meeting a boss who was intrigued by my transition and hired me on the spot. It’s taking a year of hard work, commitment, dealing with the drama of unpredictable co-workers and also an unpredictable boss.

But…

Now…

It’s comfortable
.
The culture, the way things are done (or should be done), the co-workers, the lunches ordered, the snacks raided in the snack closet, SO vs Royal Canin, Prednisone vs Prednisolone, Cerenia vs Convenia (um…which one burns again?) are comfortable.

The new job, at the other place is not.

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Posted on July 27, 2014 by Anelemc

Binds that hold…

These friends I have known for about 30 years…

We are still connected.

We met at a State University located in Fredonia, NY in the eighties when things were cool and black was the colour in NYC.

We met at separate times.

Two of the three, I went on interesting dates with.

With one…

I was picked up in a station wagon straight out of the Brady Brunch set and whisked off to a dance club. It was a fun date and no, we did not kiss, hold hands, or get crazy in the backseat. He later came out. He was always out but proceeded cautiously, for the world back then was not accepting as it is somewhat now.

The other…

sent secret notes with a flower to my dorm room. We eventually connected, where upon he visited me and ate a bowl of cereal while we conversed. I thought he was strange…but so was I. We were together as couples were, back then when knowing a person mattered.

I met the friend of the other for she was extremely close to him. She carried within her soul a sacred light filled with calm and joy, but back then, she didn’t know it and neither did we, for the light was an ember that had yet to ignite.

I know not what else to say except ..

We are still connected.

What connects is always questionable and at times suspicious but in this scenario the connection is valid for it has endured time and space.

Not sure why…

for we have gone our separate ways, down paths some winding more than others. We all have starved, or better yet lived the life of a “starving artist” in different cities at various times. Eventually we were able to eat, which led us to where we are now, with different careers and lives in different cities and…

We are still connected.

Us thirty some odd years ago…

Posted on July 21, 2014July 21, 2014 by Anelemc

Mi primo is no longer hurting…

My cousin Zarak Mohandas Delattibodier has kidney disease and received dialysis two to three times a week.

He needs a kidney.

A donor was identified and during the beginning stages of gathering donor information, he developed an infection in the mitral valve of his heart.

The infection was resistant to antibiotics.

Zarak also had severe periodontal disease.

The hospital released my cousin after a four-day stay and sent him home with antibiotics for the heart and dental appointments to begin work on the perio. One week later, Zarak had difficulty breathing and went back to the hospital where he lost consciousness and was placed on a ventilator and an iv catheter with major antibiotics.

The infection of the heart was fungal.

Mi pimo’s body was too weak to fight. He coded numerous times and stabilized with resuscitation but brain damage may have occurred and he could not breathe on his own.

The ‘No Resuscitation’ directive was put in place. Then rescinded by his wife who is separated from him.

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
No anxiety about the kidney donor’s health condition or going through dialysis

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
He may pass on in California, where he wanted to live and will receive a military burial

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
He’ll join his mom, mi Tía, whom he loved and whose hand he held as she drew her last breath

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
He can play his sax and jam with the angels

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
He can eat all the beef jerky, fried chicken and fries he desires with Excelsior Cabernet

Mi primo is no longer hurting…
He doesn’t have to carry the weight of his family’s dysfunction on his back anymore

I wish the decision could be made to turn off the switch that would enable his alma to be free…

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Anelemc

Tumor, Tumours…

Sundays At the Clinic

Sundays at the clinic are routine with exams, blood work, cleaning and no surgeries. My quest for an additional part-time job did yield two hires and two resignations within a month’s time. In other words, I now will stay away from one-doctor practices and if a doctor does not inflate an intubation tube prior to surgery-RUN!!!

I went from damn good values and hardcore work ethics with my current position to horribly bad in terms of practice ethics, lack of aseptic values, and price gouging to name a few. Professionalism and code of ethics were not the values of the two disgruntled doctors I was unlucky enough to encounter. Details of blatant disregard of OSHA standards as well as personal safety need not be recorded in my blog. I know what was abused and neglected; my readers do not need to know. For those who would like to know, be…

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Posted on May 9, 2014May 9, 2014 by Anelemc

Como aqua para chocolate…mom, yes my mom, and her cooking

Como Aqua Para Chocolate was on cable recently and I watched the entire movie for like the 50th time.

This movie is rich with symbolisms that extend beyond Mexican history but its central focus lies with the preparation of food and most importantly how emotions can influence cooking. Mom, my mom’s, cooking is a testament to this influence and although I never had a dish that sent me into sexual arousal (see the movie to know what I referred to) of the most high kind, her food, yes her food, is the comfort of what comfort food is suppose to be about.

Margarita, who is my mom, does not use measuring cups or follows a rigid routine when it comes to preparing her foods. She does not possess the latest food processor or the expensive knives that fit neatly in a wooden block cured with olive oil. No bread maker or Keurig decorates her counter tops. Forget Starbuck’s, Bustelo with cinnamon brewed in a sack is her preferred method of brewing coffee which is done the old way, traced back to her homeland of Honduras where purchasing and brewing coffee in a sack is as common as ordering a Grande latte thingy ma Jing at Starbuck’s.

At times, the cooking is prepared while laughing on the phone in deep conversation or humming a favourite outdated tune from the 50’s.

In earlier years, she sang.

In earlier years, when she sang, her food would leave you speechless.

Nowadays, the food with the humming or the endless talking on the phone leaves you satisfied and questioning if what you ate wasn’t the best ever version of what you dreamt it to be, along with the angels whom blowed their trumpets to announce how good the food made you felt as it made its way to your stomach via tu Corazon.

I refuse to patronize Spanish and Jamaican restaurants.

No food prepared in these restaurants can compare to my mom’s arroz con pollo, cerviche fish, dumplings, coconut beans and rice, pigeon peas, tostones, oxtails…okay…I stop here.

Margarita is a cook from whose heart the cooking stems.

A five- star restaurant cannot compete with that kind of cooking, because home is where the heart is and when the heart involves itself with food the competition to satisfy the stomach is intense. In the home of Margarita, in the kitchen where the food is prepared, there are no underpaid cooks for hire, where the cheapness of the salary is transferred to the animosity felt when preparing the food for the public.

The heart rules and lavishes love freely.

So in honour of my mi madre, Margarita, whom I’ve often taken for granted, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being who you are and keeping your youngest well fed with food prepared that will forever linger en mi alma.

Margarita's pot rack — Margarita’s pot rack

Posted on April 10, 2014 by Anelemc

My Cousin is hurting…

My cousin is hurting and I feel so helpless

He needs a kidney because the two he has are bad, bad and bad
There are no kidneys available for him
He is on dialysis 4-6 hours twice a week

My cousin is hurting and I feel so helpless

He flew to California to drive back to NYC with me, car and a rabbit in tow
He moved to California a few years later while I, still, am, here
He has six dogs and I have two

My cousin is hurting and I feel so helpless

He inspired me to write “GI Joe and the Betty Crockers” (short story)
He is my childhood friend and former nemesis
He is mi primo, who brought home cabernet and chicken wings on Friday evenings after work
He is mi primo who’d go out to get a second bottle after we drank the first while reminiscing about the elders-the McCallas-who have a way of attracting so much trouble and producing so much emotional drama

My cousin is hurting and I feel so helpless

I am afraid of his illness, of confronting it, dealing with it, flying out there to take over, to take care of him-mama’s illness took a huge chunk of me out of me and the scar tissue that covers what was once the me is thick and crusty