I don't suppose anyone actually still reads this, but I did think it might be nice - cathartic, really - to start writing on here again. It was always a good way of keeping all the very much fraying threads of my mind and memory in one messy piece, and despite the fact I'm fairly mentally composed these days (insert disclaimer), I do feel I owe at least some kind of closure to all these years of recording my struggles to become a real, grown-up vet.
So... hi again, I guess. For the... maybe, two of you who are likely reading this.
How's life for you, you beautiful bastards? Want to know what happened?
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The last days of Student Life, and Limbo
The last few weeks of still being a student were ridiculous.
I'd had years to learn not to leave things to the last minute, but after finishing my finals I went from planning, working on and writing my final year's elective project in the final three allocated weeks, to then panicking about where I was going to get my graduation finery as everywhere was apparently booked out by the week of the ceremony.
Graduation this time involved a longer robe than previously seen and being presented all by myself as the only vet graduating from my college in that ceremony. The other, of we two final vets to be trained by that college, graduated in a different ceremony after the summer. The grandness of the college graduations was followed by the frankly ridiculous "cherry" robes (think: Sexy College Graduate costume pink silk and white fluff) of the Admissions ceremony.
I stood up with the rest of the class and made the oath, shook the appropriate hands, had some photos taken, and studiously avoided Jagerbombs at the after-party, because thanks Libby's birthday for that life lesson. And I honestly thought for a day that this was it, for now. I'd made it.
I moved to London at the end of my student renting period and spent a few weeks in HL's parents' house while we waited to move into a place of our own - a place we would actually own, no less. During that time I learned voraciously from online CPD and applied to every vacancy and graduate programme I knew of, satisfied in my mantra of "a vet will always be able to find a job somewhere".
I was wrong.
At least, I was wrong in my interpretation of that mantra. Somewhere, yes. And yes, a vet with experience can always find a job.
I learned, very quickly, that nowhere in a built-up area like London particularly wants to be responsible for the fumbling first steps of a baby vet.
I lost count of how many places I ended up sending my "can I come and work for you for free to build my experience?" letters to in the local area. I think it was around 20 in the end. If they replied at all, they wished me luck and told me to ask again in a year - they couldn't take on that responsibility right now. No one said as much, but a brand new vet was a liability - all potential and enthusiasm and not enough experience to channel that into useful, streamlined, problem-free work.
HL went off on training for his new role. I stayed home and kept house. He returned. My uncle got married, at last. We adopted two gorgeous kittens from a friend's surprise litter.
I wasn't working anywhere, even for free, for months after graduation. I'd even gone to the Jobcentre as requested by my parents, just in case it could help in some way; I had zero income, after all. They directed me towards some call centre and restaurant jobs and told me I would not receive any financial assistance, but that I would have to make "serious" job applications through them (as in, the ones they printed out for me) or drop the request for help. I dropped it.
Days blurred. I had almost settled in to the idea that I would be relocating from my new home in an effort to find a job when the phone woke me up one weekday morning.
There was an unfamiliar voice on the other end, asking if I still wanted work experience?
Hell yes. Of course I did.
"We're about to be in the middle of a 3-vet vaccination clinic and surgery list, but two of our vets have called out sick. How soon can you be here?"
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TBC
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