Friday, March 30, 2018

A sign of the times

I have a kind of Buddist approach to life. And death. That's why I am building a hut in the garden for the mice that have infested my house during the beast from the east. I am catching them, feeding them, watering them and then giving them a good talking to.
They are house mice and it's minus 3 outside but a little hut, thermally lined, will surely help them to survive.
We are putting them out in bundles of six.
I think word has got out and they are coming back in bundles of five.
I am sure I recognised one reprobate from  this morning's catch  - he was in on Sunday. He's cheeky and almost tame.
It's all about signs in life.
And being kind. 

That age old question; do you want to be a full time writer? or less politely, Why don't you just give up the day job.
Indeed, why do I have two cats that are mouse friendly. Do you get Bhuddist cats who really believe in live and let live.

And there are pitfalls to be wary off, in all paths in life.  One of my full time assistants has taken a 6 month sabbatical to go round the word, coming back at the end of June to think about buying the practice over the next few years.

I think this sign might be a Scottish road sign. I call tell by the heavy cloud.

And there are times when I fell I am being urinated on from a great height. My FPA ( faithful personal assistant) has tearfully resigned from her post. She's a single parent, two teenage boys, testosterone, police, bad exam results and worse attitudes. Their computer games at the moment are hidden in my loft.  We have relocated the FPA within the company.... but I have nobody to do the paperwork of the writing career.

Last Tuesday I started work at 8am, and finished at 10.20. My final patient was a dobermann who had fallen down a flight of wooden stairs. One of four in the house- Dobies I mean. not four flights of stairs. The owner- a human patient of mine was beside herself  in tears. They live in a ---inset here what amount of your currency  means pure minted/well off/ not short of a bob or two--- house.
Her and her hubby both commented how cheap they thought the treatment of the dog was on a home visit as, the man said, most folk see the house and double the price. Indeed an ex colleague of mine had charged 5x's her normal rate. 

But where does that take us? As a career? As carer? Am I devaluing myself?
Nope. It was on my way home and I got paid for hugging a big stupid dog for half an hour and the owner made me a veggie lasagne (non vegan -sorry Leye) to take home for my tea.
we lived off that for a week.
the dog was running around on facebook the next day.

I have noticed within the last week that mice do crap in their drinking water. I think these mice are the Jerry Springer kind of mouse, the Jeremy Kyles of mus muculus.

So the patient workload is huge, I am out of contract with my books and  the person who deals with all that stuff is no longer there.

There are about 30 folk at work. When asked how many people work for me, I answer about half of them. I  spent all my time in a room with a patient, I know NOTHING about my business. I can't even use the answering machine.

I have this sign at work, with a red line drawn through the word staff.

Then a receptionist who has been with me for 20 years resigns for 'looking after grandchildren reasons'.  

Ok I think, I will interview for another. Then the practice manager says her job is really far too stressful, she's not keen to work with the assistant if he takes over as she's too old to change her ways. So can she step down and work on reception.

I know that rats leave a sinking ship but mice do not. Jerry Springer mouse has just reappeared in the peanut butter humane trap and wants to chat about a tenancy agreement.

So neither of my jobs now has a sensible person in charge.
I am out of contract on my books.
I am writing nothing because of the hours I am working.

So many hours in fact that my left hand becomes inflamed and swollen.... accelerated degenerative change due to overwork- the death knell of my practising career.

My career options look a little like this picture. So much change in a few weeks.
What is going on?
Where do I go from here?

It would seem that I stop writing, stop treating patients, sit in the back office, consult on difficult patients  and live a terrible life looking at spreadsheets then coming home at 5pm to evict mice.

I saw this sign in a book. I thought it looked like the ideal isle for a serial killer to do their shopping. They could pick up some gaffa tape also.

Then I got an email from my publisher- who has merged with another publisher. They had been speaking to my agent - who has merged with another agent - and I think my agent said my life was pretty hectic until June. So my publisher has some pretty fantastic plans for me.
After June.
That I can't do if I stay treating patients.
But I can't do that  with my hand anyway.
So what is the universe  telling me now?
And guess what, the business manages just fine without anybody running it....

I am going to talk to Jerry Springer Mus Musculus. He seems to know what he is about.

Watch this space....

Caro Ramsay...30/03/18


  1. I feel for you. Ick. But right now, I think I'd trade you my jaw for your wrist. I have a molar with a broken root that's gotten infected and is going to have to be pulled. If you compared my cheeks you might rename me WonHungLo. Sigh. They say that life is what happens while you're making other plans...

  2. Caro, I think the problem with your hand could very well be your body telling you to do what your "conscience" is trying to prevent you from doing: to give priority to your writing. Without a doubt, the people you help with their medical problems benefit enormously from your ministrations. But there are other people capable of taking care of them. You are the only one who can write your stories. ONLY YOU! Do it!

  3. Do you believe in fate, Caro? I do. Right after I’d read your post my 5-year-old granddaughter insisted I watch an animated Disney film with her titled, Brave.” It’s about a red-haired feisty Scottish Princess who’s trying to find her own way in life in the face of royal commitments conflicting with her true desires. Let’s put it this way: she came face to face with “battling the bear” and in so doing found her way. You’re the best bear battler I know, and you shall find yours!.

  4. Caro, I'm so sorry about your hand (and your practice) but I'm with Annamaria and Jeff - you must keep writing. The world needs your stories, and your sense of humor. Battle on, and we will be here to support you!