in 1993, at my senior year picnic at Live Oak High School, I am captured on video telling the world I was headed for nursing school while most of my friends were headed down the journey of becoming a teacher. That was the last thing in the world I wanted to be and I made it known. And yet, today, I'm an educator. And looking back, no one in their right mind would want me as their nurse. That is a sad realization that was made this week with my dog, Cash.
Cash disappeared Sunday evening and we spent the better part of Monday and Tuesday looking for him - well Cheney did. We went to the animal shelter hoping that he would show up there, spent countless miles driving around the area in hopes that someone had seen our precious pup.
On Tuesday at 6:00 pm, my cell phone rang while we were out canvassing the area. Someone had our dog. We rushed to get him, excited that he was found, so we could bring him back and give him some of the love that he had missed out on for 3 days. When we drove up, we knew that he was hurt. He didn't wag his tail, or stand up to greet us. Two things that he always does when he sees us. He had been run over on his back legs. He had several nasty open wounds and a good deal of swelling and was unable to stand. Cheney loaded him up in the back of the Trooper and we brought him home. Hopeful, that we could just go to the vet Wednesday morning instead of the Emergency Clinic.
Once home, we began inspecting wounds - the point I discovered that I made the right decision oh so long ago when changing my major.
Bones were visible and I nearly lost my cheetos. How in the world would this kind of behavior have cut it as a nurse. I get weak at the sight of blood, and pass out at the sight of my own. Needles make me nauseous. The smell of a hospital gets my stomach flipping so much that if you are sick in the hospital, I probably won't come to visit, but if you're dying, I'll suck it up and come. When you see me, you'll know that your prognosis is not good. So, don't be offended if I don't come to the hospital, that's a really good thing.
Cash disappeared Sunday evening and we spent the better part of Monday and Tuesday looking for him - well Cheney did. We went to the animal shelter hoping that he would show up there, spent countless miles driving around the area in hopes that someone had seen our precious pup.
On Tuesday at 6:00 pm, my cell phone rang while we were out canvassing the area. Someone had our dog. We rushed to get him, excited that he was found, so we could bring him back and give him some of the love that he had missed out on for 3 days. When we drove up, we knew that he was hurt. He didn't wag his tail, or stand up to greet us. Two things that he always does when he sees us. He had been run over on his back legs. He had several nasty open wounds and a good deal of swelling and was unable to stand. Cheney loaded him up in the back of the Trooper and we brought him home. Hopeful, that we could just go to the vet Wednesday morning instead of the Emergency Clinic.
Once home, we began inspecting wounds - the point I discovered that I made the right decision oh so long ago when changing my major.
Bones were visible and I nearly lost my cheetos. How in the world would this kind of behavior have cut it as a nurse. I get weak at the sight of blood, and pass out at the sight of my own. Needles make me nauseous. The smell of a hospital gets my stomach flipping so much that if you are sick in the hospital, I probably won't come to visit, but if you're dying, I'll suck it up and come. When you see me, you'll know that your prognosis is not good. So, don't be offended if I don't come to the hospital, that's a really good thing.
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