This is a blog. This is NOT peer-reviewed. This is not science. The stories I tell are mine. For those of you who don't understand: These stories are told from my point of view. They are my opinion and only that. They are my memories, however I choose to remember and/or embellish them. The resemblance of characters in my stories to anyone in my life is not completely unintentional, however, I strive to protect their identities; because seriously, the shit they do and say is humiliating and stupid.

Oh...I'm telling these stories because my therapist thinks it'll help my mental and emotional well-being.

Monday, May 23, 2011

I Have Taken My Fair Share of Bears to the Vet Hospital.

One such occasion occurred at two a.m. I got a call from a technician who was feeding the captive bears (yes, at two a.m.).

“You need to get out here,” he said.

“What happened?”

“One of the bears is injured.”

“So badly I need to get out of bed? Did you call the boss?”

“He’s not answering and his machine isn’t picking up.”

Smart man.

“I’ll be there in a few.”

Sure enough, when I arrived, one of the bears was walking funny. We got a flashlight (cause it’s dark at two a.m., we didn’t have outside lights, and the bear wouldn’t come inside) and realized one of her front paws had been torn open so badly we could see bones.

I called my boss again. No answer. Then I called the vet hospital and told them we’d be there with a sub-adult female grizzly in 45 minutes. Then, don’t ask me how (I don’t remember), but somehow, we darted the bear…in the dark.

When we arrived at the vet hospital, one resident and one fourth-year vet student were waiting for us. We pulled the bear off the truck and onto the gurney, and their eyes got huge! Nothing like instilling confidence in your clients.

The resident took a look at the paw and gave us several options. I again called my boss. After all, it was his money. When he didn’t answer, I decided on a minor procedure and antibiotics. When the vet and student started wheeling the bear toward the operating room, they looked back at us and said, “Uh…you coming?”

“Sure,” we said and followed, knowing they were scared shitless.

As the procedure progressed and the fourth year student got more comfortable with the bear and her duty as anesthesiologist, she forgot to pay attention.

“You need to give her more gas,” I said, thinking I saw signs of the bear coming out of the drug.

“Are you sure?” She blankly looked at the bear then me.

Granted, the bear had long burned through the drugs we had administered and I had never seen a bear on isoflurane before. And yes, she was the anesthesiologist, the one with the knowledge and experience with the drug, so no, I wasn’t 100% positive.

That was, until the bear lifted her head and growled.