too tired to blog

Now being THAT tired doesn't happen often! Goes without saying though that it wasn't tired enough to go to sleep early. Spent this morning sleeping in the bath. With a basket of little birds next to me, so when they screamed lots I could half wake up, feed them, lie back saying to myself that I must wash and get out now. Repeat last sentence every half hour.

Lack of desire to get up has been around for a while, but the Leponex is definitely contributing. Haven't had to sleep in the morning like this since we tried the Prothiaden, which made me sleep all night, all morning (after a location shift to the bath), and all afternoon (location shift to the couch). Before we gave up on it having any a/d effect at all, I worked out that most days I was asleep for at least 18 hours.

Busy day at the centre yesterday - more than half the shift (all new people) just failed to rock up. Left me with an absolute full house in the clinic, and one person to do the outside feeds. To give her due credit, she worked her ass off, and between us, we got almost up to date by 13h00. Hadn't been able to take birds to the vet in the morning, so instead of going home, I did the vet runs. Back to the centre in time to sort out a few more waifs and strays, and do handover on the vet cases that I'd brought back. Got home eventually at 17h30 - for a half day shift! Brought lots of little ones, including 3 red-headed finch nestlings. Too sweet. The skin in their mouths is black dots on a white background, so that when mommy brings food she has a very visible target to aim for in the dark nest. They are still adapting to mommy not looking quite the same as she did two days ago, but once they do, there is a never ending, low-pitched hum from them, broken only by a ten-fold increase in volume when the nest is touched. Just in case the food giver is in doubt about where to deliver...

I don't know if I can actually do the whole wild-care thing anymore. I am becoming obsessed with the ones that I can't save again. Last Jan it was so bad that I eventually stopped doing shifts at all, and then ended up in hospital for 3 weeks, when we started the Parnate. Which did nothing. Up till then I'd been doing 5 shifts at least every week, and I've never gotten back to that. Now I'm mostly doing one or two, but making up for it by doing more and more of the pickups and catches. And I have my own huge collection of mynahs and pigeons, and the babies that I bring home from the clinic. But I am looking at them with this little devil on my shoulder the whole time that says 'don't love them, they are all going to die anyway because you are so crap at caring for them'. Statistically, depending on the species and the age, I know that some of them will definitely die - amongst the species that I chose to take, and the little, pink, eyeball-less ones, I know that it's likely that at least 1 third will die, some of them up to 2 thirds. I tell myself not to take these ones, but then I feel the guilt anyway, if they stay in the clinic, because when we are so busy they end up missing out on some of the feeds they should ideally have.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Sometimes I am sure that I have the best possible job in the world. Other times, like now, it's probably going to be the cherry on top of the suicide cake...