Squeak, squeak, squeak

Oh yay, it's 12:56pm and a beautiful day. I'm early to lab. I really, really hope I don't have to cut mice ears and tails for genotyping today. Hmmm I'm kind of hungry. That peanut butter sandwich didn't quite tide me over, for some reason. Oh well.

Hi Sarah! How are you? I'm fine.

....Oh. Six cages by myself? Okay. That's fine. I'll try to get as much done as I can in the next two and a half hours.

I've done genotyping by myself since last fall. Not a big deal. Walk to Life Sciences Addition building. Scan ID card to access the restricted sixth floor. Scan card to access the lab suite. Put on a gown over clothing. Put on face mask. Put on gloves, size medium. Set up essentials: paper towel, 70% ethanol, sharp razor, surgical scissors, mouse holder, water bottles, 1.5 mL microfuge tubes, test tube rack, sharpie. Find correct mouse cage. Place in hood. Open cage. Grab mouse by the tail. Hold neck. Snip ear (not off, just a tiny 1-mm cut on either the right ear, left ear, or both, or neither--for identification purposes). Place mouse in holder. Cut 2 mm off the tip of the tail. Return to cage. Place tail bit in 1.5-mL microfuge tube. Repeat with remaining mice in cage. Repeat with remaining cages.

I am sometimes a machine. I get in the zone. Sounds terrible, right? A mouse ear-and-tail cutting machine. I'm admitting it on a public blog. The moral implications of furthering scientific research on animals are a discussion for another time.

Other times, I am incapable of accomplishing anything at the lab. Like today:

Breathe. What am I looking at here? Oh yeah, first cage: four G6 black females, two weeks old. Come here, mousy mousy mousy. All right. Gotcha. [snip, squeak] That's a good mouse. Man, I wish I had like, an iPod or something. I don't like hearing their panicked squeaking. I also don't like to see the mice shaking in their cages. I wish I wasn't such a pansy about this. Ugh. Whatever. Okay, next mouse.

Come here, mousy. Wait for it...wait for it...Come on, turn around so I can grab your tail. Ugh, don't bite me! Man, this one is being difficult. Why are the mice so hyperactive today? They're like, climbing on the grate and trying to escape, constantly! Ugh, and I don't have Jane with me to help out. I don't know what I'd do if a mouse were to escape. What a nightmare. I'd freak out for sure. Wow, how is it 2:30 already? Time sure flies when you are incompetent at your job. I sort of just want to go home already. I'm so tired.

All right, snap out of it. [snip, squeak] I wish my hands would stop shaking. The mouse is shaking. I am shaking. It's so hard to hold a pair of scissors. Is this what surgery is like? Will I constantly be afraid of plunging my hands into a person's abdominal cavity if I am a surgeon, like I am afraid of plunging my hands into a cage of five mice? Well, I mean, a person undergoing surgery would most likely be anesthetized, and probably wouldn't bite me or run around or defecate on me. I wish we could give a mild dose of carbon dioxide to the mice, to calm them down a little bit. OR! What if I squirt some 70% ethanol into their water supply? Drunken mice might be easier to work with than super hyper jumping climbing biting mice. Hmm...nah. Sarah wouldn't like that, and the mice might die.

Only six mice tails cut. Why are my hands still shaking? I can't do this anymore. I have twenty-one mice to go. My heartbeat is a little uncomfortable. I need air. Ugh, I seriously hate cutting mice tails by myself. I think I am going to head back to Morgan. Oh, it's already 3:30. Good. Time for class.

The first time I did it (with help, of course), I thought genotyping live animals was so great and so fun. Way more interesting than pipetting a bunch of buffers and reagents. I also thought I was finally trusted enough by my researcher to handle big responsibilities like this.

But now, every time I approach the rows of cages, I dread the squeak, squeak, squeak of ten dozen mice and counting. Call it the sound of scientific progress, but my mind will always try to drown out the sound by pep-talking myself through it. (And as you've read, I even talk to the mice.)

It's days like today that I realize the difficultly I have in separating my emotions from my actions. I am human, after all. I wonder if this means I'll be a terrible doctor.