Silent and empty. That is the atmosphere that echoes throughout the room. It is quiet, aside from the slight mew of the patient we are about to work with. I stare silently at the cat in the cage; as lonely as we both are, at least we have the other there to keep each other company. Gently, I stick a finger through one of the holes in the bars, and stroke the top of the cat's head. I remove my finger from the cage again, and stare silently at the cat, lonely, and I wish that I could do more to help it in its time of need. There is a certain compassion I feel for it, one that is hard to describe, that allows me to take a role of ownership, a role to make the pet feel comfortable and at home, to the best of my ability. I look over at the events that happen in the rest of the room, and notice one of the nurses is headed in this direction, so I take the opportunity to move to another part of the room so I am not in the way of the things that the nurse is about to do.
Once I reach the main area of the room, I stop and turn around to observe the two operation tables - one through the door to the room in front of me, and the one to my right, where a dental is being done on a dog. I turn to my left and look at the shelf beside me - everything from medical tools to tissues line the shelf, and I mentally run my hand over the objects that I see. A box of tissues, a jar of dog treats, a can of air freshener (this is probably the most useful tool there is), a red box that holds sanitary tools, some sticky-tape rollers used to get loose fur off of you or an animal, and a box that holds thermometers with some Vaseline to dip them in so they go into their...
desired destination more easily. I briefly eye the next shelf, looking over things such as scissors, boxes and more cans relating to freshening and cleaning things, then turn my attention to the other side of the room again, where the nurse from before is carrying the cat into the other room.
I quietly follow her, and take a place at the side of the table so I can watch what is going on. Towels cover the table, so the cat does not have to sit on cold steel for what is about to happen. The nurse puts the cat on the table and holds it in place, and I stroke the top of its head, and its back, eventually full-on stroking the cat while we wait for another nurse to come into the room. The nurse in the room calls for another, and the called nurse comes in, restraining the cat from behind and lifting its head up so the first nurse can work with the cat more easily. Using a red squirt bottle, the nurse squirts some alcohol onto the cat's fur, then parts the fur as she feels around for a vein. With fluid motion, she pokes a needle through the skin, and draws a syringe's worth of blood from the cat. The moment she pulls the needle out, the other nurse applies pressure to where the needle was poked, and the first nurse fills two empty containers with the blood she drew, then takes them into another room.
I follow her into the lab, a room filled with intricate devices used for testing various levels about the blood - white blood cell count, things like that. She took the cap of one of the containers off and placed it in a device, and placed the other atop a shelf for later testing. I watched as a panel on the machine she'd placed the first container in flipped around, taking the container out of sight. She gave a quick 'Excuse me' as she passed me to leave the room, and I remained, staring at my surroundings and the machinery in the room silently.
The room was clustered, filled with papers, documents, machines, bottles, a chair, and a desk with everything from a computer to a cup of pens. I did not sit in the chair, as I felt I did not have permission to sit there. It is a silly thing to assume, yes, but I am silly like that- the chair was not mine, and it belonged to the nurses and doctors who worked there. I had no right - no responsibility - just like everything else there. I was a wanderer, doing nothing but watching and giving the most minor of aid to those who needed it. I was too shy to step up, too timid to really do anything... and it took all my courage and all my heart to tell myself to offer to help, to do whatever I could to make sure I was being helpful and contributing to the workplace - if not for me, if not for them, then for the animals who needed my help.
Silent and empty. That is the atmosphere that echoes throughout the room. It is quiet, aside from the slight mew of the patient we are about to work with. I stare silently at the cat in the cage; as lonely as we both are, at least we have the other there to keep each other company. Gently, I stick a finger through one of the holes in the bars, and stroke the top of the cat's head. I remove my finger from the cage again, and stare silently at the cat, lonely, and I wish that I could do more to help it in its time of need. There is a certain compassion I feel for it, one that is hard to describe, that allows me to take a role of ownership, a role to make the pet feel comfortable and at home, to the best of my ability. I look over at the events that happen in the rest of the room, and notice one of the nurses is headed in this direction, so I take the opportunity to move to another part of the room so I am not in the way of the things that the nurse is about to do.
Once I reach the main area of the room, I stop and turn around to observe the two operation tables - one through the door to the room in front of me, and the one to my right, where a dental is being done on a dog. I turn to my left and look at the shelf beside me - everything from medical tools to tissues line the shelf, and I mentally run my hand over the objects that I see. A box of tissues, a jar of dog treats, a can of air freshener (this is probably the most useful tool there is), a red box that holds sanitary tools, some sticky-tape rollers used to get loose fur off of you or an animal, and a box that holds thermometers with some Vaseline to dip them in so they go into their... desired destination more easily. I briefly eye the next shelf, looking over things such as scissors, boxes and more cans relating to freshening and cleaning things, then turn my attention to the other side of the room again, where the nurse from before is carrying the cat into the other room.
I quietly follow her, and take a place at the side of the table so I can watch what is going on. Towels cover the table, so the cat does not have to sit on cold steel for what is about to happen. The nurse puts the cat on the table and holds it in place, and I stroke the top of its head, and its back, eventually full-on stroking the cat while we wait for another nurse to come into the room. The nurse in the room calls for another, and the called nurse comes in, restraining the cat from behind and lifting its head up so the first nurse can work with the cat more easily. Using a red squirt bottle, the nurse squirts some alcohol onto the cat's fur, then parts the fur as she feels around for a vein. With fluid motion, she pokes a needle through the skin, and draws a syringe's worth of blood from the cat. The moment she pulls the needle out, the other nurse applies pressure to where the needle was poked, and the first nurse fills two empty containers with the blood she drew, then takes them into another room.
I follow her into the lab, a room filled with intricate devices used for testing various levels about the blood - white blood cell count, things like that. She took the cap of one of the containers off and placed it in a device, and placed the other atop a shelf for later testing. I watched as a panel on the machine she'd placed the first container in flipped around, taking the container out of sight. She gave a quick 'Excuse me' as she passed me to leave the room, and I remained, staring at my surroundings and the machinery in the room silently.
The room was clustered, filled with papers, documents, machines, bottles, a chair, and a desk with everything from a computer to a cup of pens. I did not sit in the chair, as I felt I did not have permission to sit there. It is a silly thing to assume, yes, but I am silly like that- the chair was not mine, and it belonged to the nurses and doctors who worked there. I had no right - no responsibility - just like everything else there. I was a wanderer, doing nothing but watching and giving the most minor of aid to those who needed it. I was too shy to step up, too timid to really do anything... and it took all my courage and all my heart to tell myself to offer to help, to do whatever I could to make sure I was being helpful and contributing to the workplace - if not for me, if not for them, then for the animals who needed my help.
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