I’ve never had much experience with death. Until I was in second grade, all I had were memories of fish or small rodents of our house dying. In second grade, however, my mother gave birth to a son prematurely and he passed away shortly after.
I’ve been fortunate to not have to deal with death much since then. Due to circumstance, all of the animals I’ve had have been given away before they became old enough to die except for (like before) fish and small rodents.
Since switching jobs, I’ve dealt with death more now. I work as a veterinary assistant and one of my responsibilities is holding animals for basic procedures. Unfortunately, one of those procedures includes euthanasia. I’m also responsible for bagging animals after they pass for cremation.
All of this recent experience with death has really made me think of it. My main conclusion is that it’s scary, to be honest.
For animals, we can (for the most part) control the way they die. But for us Homo sapiens, it’s not normally controlled. You don’t know if the drive to work will be fatal, and you certainly can’t predict if a tornado if going to blow through your town and slam you against a tree. No one knows for sure what will happen for you after your time comes, too. Religion speculates, revived patients tell vague stores, science attempts to explain, but the fact of the matter is we just don’t know.
I chose this particular Postsecret card for this because I think it sends a powerful message. Death isn’t easy, for loved ones or the person dying. But if you have the chance to stand by the side of your best friend for X amount of years as they slip away peacefully into the great unknown, take it.
I helped a doctor with the euthanasia of a yorkie/chihuahua mix in her late teens. Her owner held her, crying, the entire time. I don’t know anything about the great beyond, but if I had to guess, that dog had the best passing possible.
No one wants to die alone, or in a roomful of strangers. Why would you let your best friend?
I’ve finally gotten into the habit of studying more. After a traumatic advising appointment, I’ve realized that I need to study more or else I’m totally boned for my future. With the help of my therapist, I’m figuring out what ways work best for me when it comes to studying. I need short bursts of studying and frequent breaks. While I don’t have any sort of diagnosed attention disorder, I might as well because my concentration is awful.
Yesterday was a bad day, though. I studied for an exam last week, took it last Wednesday, and got it back yesterday. Bombed it. On top of that, I was studying for an exam that was today and I took a practice exam in preparation. Bombed it. I threw the practice test and went into the bedroom crying. John came and comforted me, but dealing with me when I’m like that isn’t the easiest. He left, and I called my mother.
I’m the first of her children to go to a four year college, so I’m surprised she knew what to say. By the end of the conversation I was feeling better. And then my brother wanted to speak to me. He overheard the conversation our mother was having and wanted to encourage me. Boy, did he.
He told me that during my exam I just needed to picture kids in my class in their underwear so I would smile. He said that a smile would help the exam go better. Sure enough, while taking my exam, I kept a smile on my face 95% of the time and my normal test-anxiety was almost nowhere to be found.
College is serious business, but I’m going to make it less serious with a smile on my face.