April 2nd, 2013
Last week I had seven straight days working - a voluntary
schedule change on my part to help out a friend and make a weekend work. The
days were long and slam-packed. At 9 pm on the seventh day, exhausted and
thinking about dinner and not taking precautions, I was bitten by a massive
squirrel. Seriously pissed that I'd injected him, the squirrel sank long white
teeth through my finger straight to the bone. Dripping blood on the floor,
irritated I'd been so stupid, I cleaned out the wound, double checked his
paperwork - no funky diseases, thank goodness - and took a dinner break. I put
his syringe of sterile fluids on a heat pad before I left and let him cool off
for a few hours. Later that night I enlisted help, clamping him down under two
welding gloves and an iron grip, exposing two square inches of fur, for a
coworker to deliver the shot. He didn't budge a squirrely wiggle because he
couldn't. I left the gloves on top of his crate with a big "feisty"
warning note.
Ten minutes later, I was bitten by a field mouse. Luckily,
the teeny tiny teeth couldn't even puncture a latex glove. Definitely time for
a break.
The weekend was wonderful. I am now rested, my reflexes are
back up to speed, and I can bend my knuckle, which is no longer a funny shade
of bruised greenish purple.
No comments:
Post a Comment