In one of my favorite books, Death in Yellowstone, ladies of yore are depicted succumbing to fainting spells, falling into streams and drowning. I giggled and wrote in my notes, “Women subject to the fainting spells should stay away from streams.” I should have written it down more like this, “Women prone to fainting spells should stay away from veterinarian’s offices.”
I would like to preclude this by saying I am not that big of a baby, but I will admit to woos tendencies. I took Twinks (the big bull baby) to the Vet because she was scratching her ears up. I was led into the examination room with my pooch, and things got hot in there. Much to my chagrin, the Doc went over all of the future problems that Twinks WILL NOT incur. I got a little bothered and flustered. And THEN, she pulls me over to get close while she sticks a 12 inch q-tip down my magician assistant’s (Twink’s) ear. And that’s the last thing I remembered before I found myself on a linoleum floor, my glasses on the ground, my hat off my head, and the Vet staring down on me.
Feathers were ruffled. The clinicians gave me water and a pillow. Then they confided in me how pale I looked, despite my overwhelming paleness upon first arrival. I felt real loosey goosey during this. Luckily, due to my passing out, there was no further demonstration of ear cleaning. However, shots were due, so the Christine ze Vet Tech, did her best to block my view of needles and my dog.
But then! Fainting does have its perks. They gave me a big bag of pecans to cheer up my blood sugar. I luvz ze pecans. And Vets are expensivo, so yes I will take a free bag of pecans. So when life gives you fainting and pecans, make a buttermilk pecan pie, like me. Yom yom. Harry Truman used to eat this.
My dad’s lasting words of comfort were “Caroline, don’t worry. Women in the olden days used to faint all the time.”