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Mu Ramen tan esperado regresa a Long Island City el lunes 1 de diciembre

Mu Ramen tan esperado regresa a Long Island City el lunes 1 de diciembre



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Después de nueve largos meses, Mu Ramen regresa a Long Island City en un nuevo espacio

Mu Ramen tan esperado regresa a Long Island City el lunes 1 de diciembre

Después de un verano lleno de renovaciones en la ubicación elegida de Long Island City para su tienda de ramen permanente, y luego de meses de la evasión de Con Edison, Joshua y Heidy Smookler finalmente abrirán Mu Ramen el lunes 1 de diciembre, confirmó la pareja a The New York Times.

Como recordará, Mu Ramen fue una vez una operación más pequeña, pero el primer lugar en la lista de Pete Wells de destinos de ramen dignos de sorber en la ciudad de Nueva York le ganó a los Smooklers mucha atención y febriles intentos de reservación (2,000 solicitudes inmediatamente después de la lista. publicado en línea) que cerraron para reagruparse.

Casi un año después, Mu Ramen regresará en un espacio un poco más generoso (22 asientos en el mostrador y una mesa común) donde sus cocineros serán sus camareros.

Hasta ahora, el menú de Mu Ramen presenta varios bocados pequeños y "cuatro o más tazones de ramen, cada uno con fideos hechos a medida".

Para obtener las últimas actualizaciones de alimentos y bebidas, visite nuestro Noticias de alimentos página.

Karen Lo es editora asociada de The Daily Meal. Síguela en Twitter @appleplexy.


Veterinaria, sobreviviente de COVID-19, sobre tratar de cuidar a las mascotas, a su personal y a ella misma

A los 12 años, Erin Kulick miraba maravillada mientras observaba a una vaca ser operada de un útero prolapsado después de dar a luz a un ternero. Era su primer día como voluntaria en una práctica de animales mixtos en Bedford, Virginia.

Mientras contemplaba la sangrienta escena, sonrió. En ese momento, supo que quería ser veterinaria.

La Dra. Kulick, ahora de 36 años, trabaja en el Centro Veterinario de la ciudad de Long Island en Queens, Nueva York, donde trabaja en la práctica general y ve principalmente animales pequeños.

Debido a la pandemia de COVID-19, los veterinarios de la ciudad de Nueva York solo ven casos esenciales. Kulick dijo que en lugar de tener animales y clientes en el vestíbulo de la oficina veterinaria, está haciendo que los clientes se reúnan con el personal en la puerta principal para que puedan traer a su mascota. A pesar de los cambios en sus operaciones, han estado muy ocupados.

"Estamos consiguiendo personas que no han venido al veterinario durante un par de años, de repente deciden volver porque están en casa y creo que se están dando cuenta de que quieren invertir en ese animal de nuevo", dijo. dijo a ABC News.

Kulick dijo que ha visto más visitas por cuerpos extraños, que ocurren cuando las mascotas consumen artículos que no pueden pasar fácilmente a través de su tracto gastrointestinal.

“Los accidentes siguen ocurriendo”, dijo. “La gente está más en casa. Están viendo a sus animales y están viendo problemas ".

En medio de esta crisis, los procedimientos de eutanasia de mascotas han presentado un desafío único para los dueños de mascotas y los veterinarios, que han tenido que encontrar formas compasivas y seguras de administrarlos.

“Mucha gente necesita un abrazo durante ese período y es realmente difícil observar a alguien desde la distancia después de haber dejado ir a su mascota y no haber sido capaz de consolarlos físicamente. Pero creo que es aún más difícil para ellos si no pueden tener a toda su familia allí ”, dijo.

El 13 de mayo, Kulick y su equipo realizaron una cesárea a un bulldog francés para un cliente que no tenía el dinero para la operación. Kulick dijo que estaba agradecida por la oportunidad de "poder simplemente tener vida".

“Trabajamos con mi jefe, mi gerente, para darle el mayor descuento posible y. básicamente lo usé como un estímulo moral para todos nosotros, porque a todos les encanta venir y cuidar a los cachorros en una cesárea ”, dijo.

El personal del centro veterinario ha tenido unos meses difíciles. Algunos de ellos, incluido Kulick, contrajeron el coronavirus, lo que provocó que el centro tuviera poco personal en ocasiones.

A finales de marzo, el bebé de 1 año de Kulick se enfermó de tos. Al día siguiente, Kulick tuvo tos y diarrea. Cuando Kulick comenzó a sentirse enferma, le preocupaba cómo afectaría a los compañeros de trabajo de su equipo.

"Si alguien de ese equipo se enferma, estás fuera por una semana, al menos", dijo. “Tengo un cojín. Pero mis técnicos, viven de sueldo a sueldo, y como estoy enfermo, no se les pagará por lo menos durante una semana. Esto apesta ".

Esa noche, tuvo fiebre y creció su preocupación por su propia salud.

“Hice una cita médica remota al día siguiente, y él dijo que me diagnosticó COVID, pero me dijo que me quedara en casa, que me pusiera en cuarentena y que entrara solo si me faltaba el aire”, dijo. "Al día siguiente . Tenía dificultad para respirar. Estaba tratando de leerle un correo electrónico a mi esposo y no pude pronunciar más de un par de palabras ".

Kulick fue a atención de urgencia, pero cuando sus niveles de saturación de oxígeno volvieron a un nivel apropiado, se fue a casa y usó un inhalador de albuterol para ayudarla a respirar. Cuando Kulick finalmente se hizo una prueba de anticuerpos COVID-19 después de recuperarse, dio positivo.

"Yo diría que COVID no se parece a ninguna otra enfermedad que haya tenido porque te hace cuestionar tu mortalidad", dijo.

Mientras se quedaba en casa para recuperarse, Kulick dedicó un tiempo al cuidado de su hijo. Dijo que, a pesar de sus dudas anteriores, se dio cuenta de que de hecho es una buena madre.

“Siempre me sentí como una madre inferior antes de esto porque mi esposo es muy bueno con los niños”, dijo. "Estoy muy agradecido por todo ese trabajo extra de tener un hijo que me ayude en este".

Un efecto secundario extraño que experimentó fue la pérdida del sentido del olfato. Como veterinaria y madre de un bebé, nota algunos beneficios, como no poder oler los pañales sucios o los olores particularmente desagradables que surgen al tratar a sus pacientes animales. Un par de semanas después de haberse enfermado, estaba bebiendo whisky para la comunión de su "iglesia que acepta todo lo queer y acepta todo". Mientras tomaba un sorbo, pudo oler el whisky de nuevo por primera vez en semanas.

En los diarios de audio que grabó, Kulick habla sobre cómo el coronavirus la ha afectado directamente a ella y a su comunidad, y cómo ha continuado realizando procedimientos veterinarios esenciales en medio de una pandemia. Su historia personal se puede escuchar en el episodio de esta semana del podcast de ABC News "The Essentials: Inside the Curve".

Además de su trabajo como veterinaria, Kulick toca música en una orquesta queer en el barrio de Chelsea de Manhattan llamada Queer Urban Orchestra. Su esposo, un músico profesional a quien conoció en la universidad tocando música juntos, la animó a unirse a la orquesta cuando se mudó a la ciudad de Nueva York hace 10 años.

“Me uní como miembro heterosexual y aliado y luego descubrí que también soy queer”, dijo. “Viniendo de una educación bautista del sur en Virginia, eso fue una especie de revelación para mí. Eso es parte de la razón por la que amo tanto Nueva York ".

Ser parte de la orquesta, que Kulick describe como una familia, ha sido un alivio de su trabajo de alto riesgo. La última foto en su teléfono antes de que su vida cambiara debido a la pandemia de coronavirus muestra a miembros de la orquesta y otros amigos en un bar en Manhattan, celebrando después de uno de sus conciertos de orquesta.

Como trompetista, Kulick se involucró en la tradición de tocar "Taps", un toque de corneta que se toca en los funerales militares, alrededor de las 7 p.m. aplausos para los trabajadores esenciales todos los días. Como aparece en WNBC, la tradición comenzó cuando su vecino y ex marine Josh Landress comenzó a tocar "Taps" desde su balcón en memoria de los que han muerto por COVID y Kulick se ofreció a hacerse eco de él.

“Significa mucho para mí hacer, especialmente porque hemos perdido gente”, dijo.

Aunque sus turnos terminan a las 7 p.m., Kulick dijo que para honrar a los que han muerto, incluidos los familiares de sus compañeros de trabajo, ha corrido a casa con su máscara puesta para llegar a tiempo para tocar el solemne homenaje.

"Tengo una amiga cercana cuya mamá ha estado en un ventilador durante más de un mes", dijo. “Siguiendo casos y viendo a todas las personas que conocía que usaban ventiladores, a excepción de la mamá de este amigo, murió. Entonces ella es la única que queda. Ella tiene que lograrlo ".


Veterinaria, sobreviviente de COVID-19, sobre tratar de cuidar a las mascotas, a su personal y a ella misma

A los 12 años, Erin Kulick miraba maravillada mientras observaba a una vaca ser operada de un útero prolapsado después de dar a luz a un ternero. Era su primer día como voluntaria en una práctica de animales mixtos en Bedford, Virginia.

Mientras contemplaba la sangrienta escena, sonrió. En ese momento, supo que quería ser veterinaria.

La Dra. Kulick, ahora de 36 años, trabaja en el Centro Veterinario de la ciudad de Long Island en Queens, Nueva York, donde trabaja en la práctica general y ve principalmente animales pequeños.

Debido a la pandemia de COVID-19, los veterinarios de la ciudad de Nueva York solo ven casos esenciales. Kulick dijo que en lugar de tener animales y clientes en el vestíbulo de la oficina veterinaria, está haciendo que los clientes se reúnan con el personal en la puerta principal para que puedan traer a su mascota. A pesar de los cambios en sus operaciones, han estado muy ocupados.

"Estamos consiguiendo personas que no han venido al veterinario durante un par de años, de repente deciden volver porque están en casa y creo que se están dando cuenta de que quieren invertir en ese animal de nuevo", dijo. dijo a ABC News.

Kulick dijo que ha visto más visitas por cuerpos extraños, que ocurren cuando las mascotas consumen artículos que no pueden pasar fácilmente a través de su tracto gastrointestinal.

“Los accidentes siguen ocurriendo”, dijo. “La gente está más en casa. Están viendo a sus animales y están viendo problemas ".

En medio de esta crisis, los procedimientos de eutanasia de mascotas han presentado un desafío único para los dueños de mascotas y los veterinarios, que han tenido que encontrar formas compasivas y seguras de administrarlos.

“Mucha gente necesita un abrazo durante ese período y es realmente difícil ver a alguien desde la distancia después de haber dejado ir a su mascota y no haber sido capaz de consolarlos físicamente. Pero creo que es aún más difícil para ellos si no pueden tener a toda su familia allí durante el evento ”, dijo.

El 13 de mayo, Kulick y su equipo realizaron una cesárea a un bulldog francés para un cliente que no tenía el dinero para la operación. Kulick dijo que estaba agradecida por la oportunidad de "poder simplemente tener vida".

“Trabajamos con mi jefe, mi gerente, para darle el mayor descuento posible y. básicamente lo usé como un estímulo moral para todos nosotros, porque a todos les encanta venir y cuidar a los cachorros en una cesárea ”, dijo.

El personal del centro veterinario ha tenido unos meses difíciles. Algunos de ellos, incluido Kulick, contrajeron el coronavirus, lo que provocó que el centro tuviera poco personal en ocasiones.

A fines de marzo, el bebé de 1 año de Kulick se enfermó de tos. Al día siguiente, Kulick tuvo tos y diarrea. Cuando Kulick comenzó a sentirse enferma, le preocupaba cómo afectaría a los compañeros de trabajo de su equipo.

"Si alguien de ese equipo se enferma, estás fuera por una semana, al menos", dijo. “Tengo un cojín. Pero mis técnicos viven de sueldo a sueldo, y como estoy enfermo, no se les pagará por lo menos durante una semana. Esto apesta ".

Esa noche, tuvo fiebre y creció su preocupación por su propia salud.

“Hice una cita médica remota al día siguiente, y él dijo que me diagnosticó COVID, pero me dijo que me quedara en casa, que me pusiera en cuarentena y que entrara solo si me faltaba el aire”, dijo. "Al día siguiente . Tenía dificultad para respirar. Estaba tratando de leer un correo electrónico a mi esposo y no pude pronunciar más de un par de palabras ".

Kulick fue a atención de urgencia, pero cuando sus niveles de saturación de oxígeno volvieron a un nivel apropiado, se fue a casa y usó un inhalador de albuterol para ayudarla a respirar. Cuando Kulick finalmente se sometió a una prueba de anticuerpos COVID-19 después de recuperarse, dio positivo.

"Yo diría que COVID no se parece a ninguna otra enfermedad que haya tenido porque te hace cuestionar tu mortalidad", dijo.

Mientras se quedaba en casa para recuperarse, Kulick pasó tiempo cuidando a su hijo. Dijo que, a pesar de sus dudas anteriores, se dio cuenta de que de hecho es una buena madre.

“Siempre me sentí como una madre inferior antes de esto porque mi esposo es muy bueno con los niños”, dijo. "Estoy muy agradecido por todo ese trabajo extra de tener un hijo que me ayude en este".

Un efecto secundario extraño que experimentó fue la pérdida del sentido del olfato. Como veterinaria y madre de un bebé, nota algunos beneficios, como no poder oler los pañales sucios o los olores particularmente desagradables que surgen al tratar a sus pacientes animales. Un par de semanas después de haberse enfermado, estaba bebiendo whisky para la comunión de su "iglesia que acepta todo lo queer y acepta todo". Mientras tomaba un sorbo, pudo oler el whisky de nuevo por primera vez en semanas.

En los diarios de audio que grabó, Kulick habla sobre cómo el coronavirus la ha afectado directamente a ella y a su comunidad, y cómo ha continuado realizando procedimientos veterinarios esenciales en medio de una pandemia. Su historia personal se puede escuchar en el episodio de esta semana del podcast de ABC News "The Essentials: Inside the Curve".

Además de su trabajo como veterinaria, Kulick toca música en una orquesta queer en el barrio de Chelsea de Manhattan llamada Queer Urban Orchestra. Su esposo, un músico profesional a quien conoció en la universidad tocando música juntos, la animó a unirse a la orquesta cuando se mudó a la ciudad de Nueva York hace 10 años.

“Me uní como miembro heterosexual y aliado y luego descubrí que también soy queer”, dijo. “Viniendo de una educación bautista del sur en Virginia, eso fue una especie de revelación para mí. Eso es parte de la razón por la que amo tanto Nueva York ".

Ser parte de la orquesta, que Kulick describe como una familia, ha sido un alivio de su trabajo de alto riesgo. La última foto en su teléfono antes de que su vida cambiara debido a la pandemia de coronavirus muestra a miembros de la orquesta y otros amigos en un bar en Manhattan, celebrando después de uno de sus conciertos de orquesta.

Como trompetista, Kulick se involucró en la tradición de tocar "Taps", un toque de corneta que se toca en los funerales militares, alrededor de las 7 p.m. aplausos para los trabajadores esenciales todos los días. Como aparece en WNBC, la tradición comenzó cuando su vecino y ex marine Josh Landress comenzó a tocar "Taps" desde su balcón en memoria de los que han muerto por COVID y Kulick se ofreció a hacerse eco de él.

“Significa mucho para mí hacer, especialmente porque hemos perdido gente”, dijo.

Aunque sus turnos terminan a las 7 p.m., Kulick dijo que para honrar a los que han muerto, incluidos los familiares de sus compañeros de trabajo, ha corrido a casa con su máscara puesta para llegar a tiempo para tocar el solemne homenaje.

"Tengo una amiga cercana cuya mamá ha estado en un ventilador durante más de un mes", dijo. “Siguiendo casos y viendo a todas las personas que conocía que usaban ventiladores, a excepción de la mamá de este amigo, murió. Entonces ella es la única que queda. Ella tiene que lograrlo ".


Veterinaria, sobreviviente de COVID-19, sobre tratar de cuidar a las mascotas, a su personal y a ella misma

A los 12 años, Erin Kulick miraba con asombro mientras veía a una vaca ser operada de un útero prolapsado después de dar a luz a un ternero. Era su primer día como voluntaria en una práctica de animales mixtos en Bedford, Virginia.

Mientras contemplaba la sangrienta escena, sonrió. En ese momento, supo que quería ser veterinaria.

La Dra. Kulick, ahora de 36 años, trabaja en el Centro Veterinario de la ciudad de Long Island en Queens, Nueva York, donde trabaja en la práctica general y ve principalmente animales pequeños.

Debido a la pandemia de COVID-19, los veterinarios de la ciudad de Nueva York solo ven casos esenciales. Kulick dijo que en lugar de tener animales y clientes en el vestíbulo de la oficina veterinaria, está haciendo que los clientes se reúnan con el personal en la puerta principal para que puedan traer a su mascota. A pesar de los cambios en sus operaciones, han estado muy ocupados.

"Estamos consiguiendo personas que no han venido al veterinario durante un par de años, de repente deciden volver porque están en casa y creo que se están dando cuenta de que quieren invertir en ese animal de nuevo", dijo. dijo a ABC News.

Kulick dijo que ha visto más visitas por cuerpos extraños, que ocurren cuando las mascotas consumen artículos que no pueden pasar fácilmente a través de su tracto gastrointestinal.

“Los accidentes siguen ocurriendo”, dijo. “La gente está más en casa. Están viendo a sus animales y están viendo problemas ".

En medio de esta crisis, los procedimientos de eutanasia de mascotas han presentado un desafío único para los dueños de mascotas y los veterinarios, que han tenido que encontrar formas compasivas y seguras de administrarlos.

“Mucha gente necesita un abrazo durante ese período y es realmente difícil observar a alguien desde la distancia después de haber dejado ir a su mascota y no haber sido capaz de consolarlos físicamente. Pero creo que es aún más difícil para ellos si no pueden tener a toda su familia allí ”, dijo.

El 13 de mayo, Kulick y su equipo realizaron una cesárea a un bulldog francés para un cliente que no tenía el dinero para la operación. Kulick dijo que estaba agradecida por la oportunidad de "poder simplemente tener vida".

“Trabajamos con mi jefe, mi gerente, para darle el mayor descuento posible y. básicamente lo usé como un estímulo moral para todos nosotros, porque a todos les encanta venir y cuidar a los cachorros en una cesárea ”, dijo.

El personal del centro veterinario ha tenido unos meses difíciles. Algunos de ellos, incluido Kulick, contrajeron el coronavirus, lo que provocó que el centro tuviera poco personal en ocasiones.

A fines de marzo, el bebé de 1 año de Kulick se enfermó de tos. Al día siguiente, Kulick tuvo tos y diarrea. Cuando Kulick comenzó a sentirse enferma, le preocupaba cómo afectaría a los compañeros de trabajo de su equipo.

"Si alguien de ese equipo se enferma, estás fuera por una semana, al menos", dijo. “Tengo un cojín. Pero mis técnicos viven de sueldo a sueldo, y como estoy enfermo, no se les pagará por lo menos durante una semana. Esto apesta ".

Esa noche tuvo fiebre y creció su preocupación por su propia salud.

“Hice una cita médica remota al día siguiente, y él dijo que me diagnosticó COVID, pero me dijo que me quedara en casa, que me pusiera en cuarentena y que entrara solo si me faltaba el aire”, dijo. "Al día siguiente . Tenía dificultad para respirar. Estaba tratando de leerle un correo electrónico a mi esposo y no pude pronunciar más de un par de palabras ".

Kulick fue a atención de urgencia, pero cuando sus niveles de saturación de oxígeno volvieron a un nivel apropiado, se fue a casa y usó un inhalador de albuterol para ayudarla a respirar. Cuando Kulick finalmente se hizo una prueba de anticuerpos COVID-19 después de recuperarse, dio positivo.

"Yo diría que COVID no se parece a ninguna otra enfermedad que haya tenido porque te hace cuestionar tu mortalidad", dijo.

Mientras se quedaba en casa para recuperarse, Kulick dedicó un tiempo al cuidado de su hijo. Dijo que, a pesar de sus dudas anteriores, se dio cuenta de que de hecho es una buena madre.

“Siempre me sentí como una madre inferior antes de esto porque mi esposo es muy bueno con los niños”, dijo. "Estoy muy agradecido por todo ese trabajo extra de tener un hijo que me ayude en este".

Un efecto secundario extraño que experimentó fue la pérdida del sentido del olfato. Como veterinaria y madre de un bebé, nota algunos beneficios, como no poder oler los pañales sucios o los olores particularmente desagradables que surgen al tratar a sus pacientes animales. Un par de semanas después de haberse enfermado, estaba bebiendo whisky para la comunión de su "iglesia que acepta todo lo queer y acepta todo". Mientras tomaba un sorbo, pudo oler el whisky de nuevo por primera vez en semanas.

En los diarios de audio que grabó, Kulick habla sobre cómo el coronavirus la ha afectado directamente a ella y a su comunidad, y cómo ha continuado realizando procedimientos veterinarios esenciales en medio de una pandemia. Su historia personal se puede escuchar en el episodio de esta semana del podcast de ABC News "The Essentials: Inside the Curve".

Además de su trabajo como veterinaria, Kulick toca música en una orquesta queer en el barrio de Chelsea de Manhattan llamada Queer Urban Orchestra. Su esposo, un músico profesional a quien conoció en la universidad tocando música juntos, la animó a unirse a la orquesta cuando se mudó a la ciudad de Nueva York hace 10 años.

“Me uní como miembro heterosexual y aliado y luego descubrí que también soy queer”, dijo. “Viniendo de una educación bautista del sur en Virginia, eso fue una especie de revelación para mí. Eso es parte de la razón por la que amo tanto Nueva York ".

Ser parte de la orquesta, que Kulick describe como una familia, ha sido un alivio de su trabajo de alto riesgo. La última foto en su teléfono antes de que su vida cambiara debido a la pandemia de coronavirus muestra a miembros de la orquesta y otros amigos en un bar en Manhattan, celebrando después de uno de sus conciertos de orquesta.

Como trompetista, Kulick se involucró en la tradición de tocar "Taps", un toque de corneta que se toca en los funerales militares, alrededor de las 7 p.m. aplausos para los trabajadores esenciales todos los días. Como aparece en WNBC, la tradición comenzó cuando su vecino y ex marine Josh Landress comenzó a tocar "Taps" desde su balcón en memoria de los que han muerto por COVID y Kulick se ofreció a hacerse eco de él.

“Significa mucho para mí hacer, particularmente porque hemos perdido gente”, dijo.

Aunque sus turnos terminan a las 7 p.m., Kulick dijo que para honrar a los que han muerto, incluidos los familiares de sus compañeros de trabajo, ha corrido a casa con su máscara puesta para llegar a tiempo para tocar el solemne homenaje.

"Tengo una amiga cercana cuya madre ha estado en un ventilador durante más de un mes", dijo. “Siguiendo casos y viendo a todas las personas que conocía que usaban ventiladores, a excepción de la mamá de este amigo, murió. Entonces ella es la única que queda. Ella tiene que lograrlo ".


Veterinaria, sobreviviente de COVID-19, sobre tratar de cuidar a las mascotas, a su personal y a ella misma

A los 12 años, Erin Kulick miraba maravillada mientras observaba a una vaca ser operada de un útero prolapsado después de dar a luz a un ternero. Era su primer día como voluntaria en una práctica de animales mixtos en Bedford, Virginia.

Mientras contemplaba la sangrienta escena, sonrió. En ese momento, supo que quería ser veterinaria.

La Dra. Kulick, ahora de 36 años, trabaja en el Centro Veterinario de la ciudad de Long Island en Queens, Nueva York, donde trabaja en la práctica general y ve principalmente animales pequeños.

Debido a la pandemia de COVID-19, los veterinarios de la ciudad de Nueva York solo ven casos esenciales. Kulick dijo que en lugar de tener animales y clientes en el vestíbulo de la oficina veterinaria, está haciendo que los clientes se reúnan con el personal en la puerta principal para que puedan traer a su mascota. A pesar de los cambios en sus operaciones, han estado muy ocupados.

"Estamos consiguiendo personas que no han venido al veterinario durante un par de años, de repente deciden volver porque están en casa y creo que se están dando cuenta de que quieren invertir en ese animal de nuevo", dijo. dijo a ABC News.

Kulick dijo que ha visto más visitas por cuerpos extraños, que ocurren cuando las mascotas consumen artículos que no pueden pasar fácilmente a través de su tracto gastrointestinal.

“Los accidentes siguen ocurriendo”, dijo. “La gente está más en casa. Están viendo a sus animales y están viendo problemas ".

En medio de esta crisis, los procedimientos de eutanasia de mascotas han presentado un desafío único para los dueños de mascotas y los veterinarios, que han tenido que encontrar formas compasivas y seguras de administrarlos.

“Mucha gente necesita un abrazo durante ese período y es realmente difícil observar a alguien desde la distancia después de haber dejado ir a su mascota y no haber sido capaz de consolarlos físicamente. Pero creo que es aún más difícil para ellos si no pueden tener a toda su familia allí durante el evento ”, dijo.

El 13 de mayo, Kulick y su equipo realizaron una cesárea a un bulldog francés para un cliente que no tenía el dinero para la operación. Kulick dijo que estaba agradecida por la oportunidad de "poder simplemente tener vida".

“Trabajamos con mi jefe, mi gerente, para darle el mayor descuento posible y. básicamente lo usé como un estímulo moral para todos nosotros, porque a todos les encanta venir y cuidar a los cachorros en una cesárea ”, dijo.

El personal del centro veterinario ha tenido unos meses difíciles. Algunos de ellos, incluido Kulick, contrajeron el coronavirus, lo que provocó que el centro tuviera poco personal en ocasiones.

A fines de marzo, el bebé de 1 año de Kulick se enfermó de tos. Al día siguiente, Kulick tuvo tos y diarrea. Cuando Kulick comenzó a sentirse enferma, le preocupaba cómo afectaría a los compañeros de trabajo de su equipo.

"Si alguien de ese equipo se enferma, estás fuera por una semana, al menos", dijo. “Tengo un cojín. Pero mis técnicos, viven de sueldo a sueldo, y como estoy enfermo, no se les pagará por lo menos durante una semana. Esto apesta ".

Esa noche tuvo fiebre y creció su preocupación por su propia salud.

“Hice una cita médica remota al día siguiente, y él dijo que me diagnosticó COVID, pero me dijo que me quedara en casa, que me pusiera en cuarentena y que entrara solo si me faltaba el aire”, dijo. "Al día siguiente . Tenía dificultad para respirar. Estaba tratando de leer un correo electrónico a mi esposo y no pude pronunciar más de un par de palabras ".

Kulick fue a atención de urgencia, pero cuando sus niveles de saturación de oxígeno volvieron a un nivel apropiado, se fue a casa y usó un inhalador de albuterol para ayudarla a respirar. Cuando Kulick finalmente se hizo una prueba de anticuerpos COVID-19 después de recuperarse, dio positivo.

"Yo diría que COVID no se parece a ninguna otra enfermedad que haya tenido porque te hace cuestionar tu mortalidad", dijo.

Mientras se quedaba en casa para recuperarse, Kulick dedicó un tiempo al cuidado de su hijo. Dijo que, a pesar de sus dudas anteriores, se dio cuenta de que de hecho es una buena madre.

“Siempre me sentí como una madre inferior antes de esto porque mi esposo es muy bueno con los niños”, dijo. "Estoy muy agradecido por todo ese trabajo extra de tener un hijo que me ayude en este".

Un efecto secundario extraño que experimentó fue la pérdida del sentido del olfato. Como veterinaria y madre de un bebé, nota algunos beneficios, como no poder oler los pañales sucios o los olores particularmente desagradables que surgen al tratar a sus pacientes animales. Un par de semanas después de haberse enfermado, estaba bebiendo whisky para la comunión de su "iglesia que acepta todo lo queer y acepta todo". Mientras tomaba un sorbo, pudo oler el whisky de nuevo por primera vez en semanas.

En los diarios de audio que grabó, Kulick habla sobre cómo el coronavirus la ha afectado directamente a ella y a su comunidad, y cómo ha continuado realizando procedimientos veterinarios esenciales en medio de una pandemia. Su historia personal se puede escuchar en el episodio de esta semana del podcast de ABC News "The Essentials: Inside the Curve".

Además de su trabajo como veterinaria, Kulick toca música en una orquesta queer en el barrio de Chelsea de Manhattan llamada Queer Urban Orchestra. Su esposo, un músico profesional a quien conoció en la universidad tocando música juntos, la animó a unirse a la orquesta cuando se mudó a la ciudad de Nueva York hace 10 años.

“Me uní como miembro heterosexual y aliado y luego descubrí que también soy queer”, dijo. “Viniendo de una educación bautista del sur en Virginia, eso fue una especie de revelación para mí. Eso es parte de la razón por la que amo tanto Nueva York ".

Ser parte de la orquesta, que Kulick describe como una familia, ha sido un alivio de su trabajo de alto riesgo. La última foto en su teléfono antes de que su vida cambiara debido a la pandemia de coronavirus muestra a miembros de la orquesta y otros amigos en un bar en Manhattan, celebrando después de uno de sus conciertos de orquesta.

Como trompetista, Kulick se involucró en la tradición de tocar "Taps", una llamada de corneta que se toca en los funerales militares, alrededor de las 7 p.m. aplausos para los trabajadores esenciales todos los días. Como aparece en WNBC, la tradición comenzó cuando su vecino y ex marine Josh Landress comenzó a tocar "Taps" desde su balcón en memoria de los que han muerto por COVID y Kulick se ofreció a hacerse eco de él.

“Significa mucho para mí hacer, particularmente porque hemos perdido gente”, dijo.

Aunque sus turnos terminan a las 7 p.m., Kulick dijo que para honrar a los que han muerto, incluidos los familiares de sus compañeros de trabajo, ha corrido a casa con su máscara puesta para llegar a tiempo para tocar el solemne homenaje.

"Tengo una amiga cercana cuya madre ha estado en un ventilador durante más de un mes", dijo. “Siguiendo casos y viendo a todas las personas que conocía que usaban ventiladores, a excepción de la mamá de este amigo, murió. Entonces ella es la única que queda. Ella tiene que lograrlo ".


Veterinaria, sobreviviente de COVID-19, sobre tratar de cuidar a las mascotas, a su personal y a ella misma

A los 12 años, Erin Kulick miraba maravillada mientras observaba a una vaca ser operada de un útero prolapsado después de dar a luz a un ternero. Era su primer día como voluntaria en una práctica de animales mixtos en Bedford, Virginia.

Mientras contemplaba la sangrienta escena, sonrió. En ese momento, supo que quería ser veterinaria.

La Dra. Kulick, que ahora tiene 36 años, trabaja en el Centro Veterinario de la ciudad de Long Island en Queens, Nueva York, donde trabaja en la práctica general y ve principalmente animales pequeños.

Debido a la pandemia de COVID-19, los veterinarios de la ciudad de Nueva York solo ven casos esenciales. Kulick dijo que en lugar de tener animales y clientes en el vestíbulo de la oficina veterinaria, está haciendo que los clientes se reúnan con el personal en la puerta principal para que puedan traer a su mascota. A pesar de los cambios en sus operaciones, han estado muy ocupados.

"Estamos consiguiendo personas que no han venido al veterinario durante un par de años, de repente deciden volver porque están en casa y creo que se están dando cuenta de que quieren invertir en ese animal de nuevo", dijo. dijo a ABC News.

Kulick dijo que ha visto más visitas por cuerpos extraños, que ocurren cuando las mascotas consumen artículos que no pueden pasar fácilmente a través de su tracto gastrointestinal.

“Los accidentes siguen ocurriendo”, dijo. “La gente está más en casa. Están viendo a sus animales y están viendo problemas ".

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”


Veterinarian, a COVID-19 survivor, on trying to care for pets, her staff and herself

At 12 years old, Erin Kulick looked on in wonder as she watched a cow receive surgery for a prolapsed uterus after giving birth to a calf. It was her first day volunteering at a mixed animal practice in Bedford, Virginia.

As she gazed at the gory scene, she smiled. In that moment, she knew she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Dr. Kulick, now 36 years old, works at Long Island City Veterinary Center in Queens, New York, where she works in general practice and sees mostly small animals.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, veterinarians in New York City are only seeing essential cases. Kulick said that instead of having animals and clients in the lobby of the veterinary office, she is having clients meet staff at the front door so that they can bring their pet in. Despite the changes in their operations, they have been very busy.

“We're getting people that haven't come to the vet for a couple years, all of a sudden decide to come back because they're home and I think they're realizing they want to invest in that animal again,” she told ABC News.

Kulick said she has seen more visits for foreign bodies, which occur when pets consume items that cannot easily pass through their gastrointestinal tract.

“Accidents are still happening,” she said. “People are home more. They're seeing their animals and they're seeing problems.”

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”


Veterinarian, a COVID-19 survivor, on trying to care for pets, her staff and herself

At 12 years old, Erin Kulick looked on in wonder as she watched a cow receive surgery for a prolapsed uterus after giving birth to a calf. It was her first day volunteering at a mixed animal practice in Bedford, Virginia.

As she gazed at the gory scene, she smiled. In that moment, she knew she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Dr. Kulick, now 36 years old, works at Long Island City Veterinary Center in Queens, New York, where she works in general practice and sees mostly small animals.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, veterinarians in New York City are only seeing essential cases. Kulick said that instead of having animals and clients in the lobby of the veterinary office, she is having clients meet staff at the front door so that they can bring their pet in. Despite the changes in their operations, they have been very busy.

“We're getting people that haven't come to the vet for a couple years, all of a sudden decide to come back because they're home and I think they're realizing they want to invest in that animal again,” she told ABC News.

Kulick said she has seen more visits for foreign bodies, which occur when pets consume items that cannot easily pass through their gastrointestinal tract.

“Accidents are still happening,” she said. “People are home more. They're seeing their animals and they're seeing problems.”

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”


Veterinarian, a COVID-19 survivor, on trying to care for pets, her staff and herself

At 12 years old, Erin Kulick looked on in wonder as she watched a cow receive surgery for a prolapsed uterus after giving birth to a calf. It was her first day volunteering at a mixed animal practice in Bedford, Virginia.

As she gazed at the gory scene, she smiled. In that moment, she knew she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Dr. Kulick, now 36 years old, works at Long Island City Veterinary Center in Queens, New York, where she works in general practice and sees mostly small animals.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, veterinarians in New York City are only seeing essential cases. Kulick said that instead of having animals and clients in the lobby of the veterinary office, she is having clients meet staff at the front door so that they can bring their pet in. Despite the changes in their operations, they have been very busy.

“We're getting people that haven't come to the vet for a couple years, all of a sudden decide to come back because they're home and I think they're realizing they want to invest in that animal again,” she told ABC News.

Kulick said she has seen more visits for foreign bodies, which occur when pets consume items that cannot easily pass through their gastrointestinal tract.

“Accidents are still happening,” she said. “People are home more. They're seeing their animals and they're seeing problems.”

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”


Veterinarian, a COVID-19 survivor, on trying to care for pets, her staff and herself

At 12 years old, Erin Kulick looked on in wonder as she watched a cow receive surgery for a prolapsed uterus after giving birth to a calf. It was her first day volunteering at a mixed animal practice in Bedford, Virginia.

As she gazed at the gory scene, she smiled. In that moment, she knew she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Dr. Kulick, now 36 years old, works at Long Island City Veterinary Center in Queens, New York, where she works in general practice and sees mostly small animals.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, veterinarians in New York City are only seeing essential cases. Kulick said that instead of having animals and clients in the lobby of the veterinary office, she is having clients meet staff at the front door so that they can bring their pet in. Despite the changes in their operations, they have been very busy.

“We're getting people that haven't come to the vet for a couple years, all of a sudden decide to come back because they're home and I think they're realizing they want to invest in that animal again,” she told ABC News.

Kulick said she has seen more visits for foreign bodies, which occur when pets consume items that cannot easily pass through their gastrointestinal tract.

“Accidents are still happening,” she said. “People are home more. They're seeing their animals and they're seeing problems.”

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”


Veterinarian, a COVID-19 survivor, on trying to care for pets, her staff and herself

At 12 years old, Erin Kulick looked on in wonder as she watched a cow receive surgery for a prolapsed uterus after giving birth to a calf. It was her first day volunteering at a mixed animal practice in Bedford, Virginia.

As she gazed at the gory scene, she smiled. In that moment, she knew she wanted to be a veterinarian.

Dr. Kulick, now 36 years old, works at Long Island City Veterinary Center in Queens, New York, where she works in general practice and sees mostly small animals.

Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, veterinarians in New York City are only seeing essential cases. Kulick said that instead of having animals and clients in the lobby of the veterinary office, she is having clients meet staff at the front door so that they can bring their pet in. Despite the changes in their operations, they have been very busy.

“We're getting people that haven't come to the vet for a couple years, all of a sudden decide to come back because they're home and I think they're realizing they want to invest in that animal again,” she told ABC News.

Kulick said she has seen more visits for foreign bodies, which occur when pets consume items that cannot easily pass through their gastrointestinal tract.

“Accidents are still happening,” she said. “People are home more. They're seeing their animals and they're seeing problems.”

In the midst of this crisis, pet euthanasia procedures have presented a unique challenge for pet owners and veterinarians, who have had to figure out compassionate and safe ways to administer them.

“A lot of people do need a hug during that and it's really hard to watch someone from a distance after you've let their pet go and not being able to physically comfort them. But it's even harder, I think, for them if they can't have their entire family there during it,” she said.

On May 13, Kulick and her team performed a C-section on a French bulldog for a client who didn’t have the money for the operation. Kulick said she was thankful for the opportunity “to be able to just have life.”

“We worked with my boss, my manager, to give him as steep of a discount as we could and . basically used that as a morale booster for all of us, because everybody loves coming in and taking care of puppies in a C-section,” she said.

The staff at the veterinary center have had a difficult few months. Some of them, including Kulick, contracted the coronavirus, which resulted in the center being short-staffed at times.

At the end of March, Kulick’s 1-year-old baby came down with a cough. The next day, Kulick had a cough and diarrhea. When Kulick started feeling sick, she was concerned about how it would affect the coworkers on her team.

“If someone on that team got sick, you're out for a week, at least,” she said. “I've got a cushion. But my techs, they live paycheck to paycheck, and because I'm sick they're not gonna get paid for at least a week. This sucks.”

That night, she developed a fever, and her concern for her own health grew.

“I did a remote doctor appointment the following day, and he said he diagnosed me with COVID, but he said to stay home, quarantine myself, only go in if I had shortness of breath,” she said. “The following day . I had shortness of breath. I was trying to read an email to my husband and I couldn't get more than a couple of words out.”

Kulick went to urgent care, but when her oxygen saturation levels came back at an appropriate level, she went home and used an albuterol inhaler to help her breathe. When Kulick eventually took a COVID-19 antibody test after recovering, she tested positive.

“I would say COVID is like no other illness I've had because it does make you question your mortality,” she said.

While staying home to recover, Kulick spent time caring for her child. She said that, despite her previous doubts, she realized that she is in fact a good parent.

“I always felt myself an inferior parent before this because my husband is just so good with kids,” she said. “I'm very grateful for all that extra work of having a kid to help me through this one.”

One strange side effect she experienced was a lost sense of smell. As a veterinarian and mother of an infant, she notices some benefits -- like not being able to smell soiled diapers or the particularly foul smells that arise when treating her animal patients. A couple of weeks after she had been sick, she was drinking whiskey for communion for her “queer-accepting, everything-accepting church.” As she took a sip, she could smell the whiskey again for the first time in weeks.

In audio diaries she recorded, Kulick talks about how the coronavirus has directly impacted her and her community, and how she has continued to perform essential veterinary procedures in the midst of a pandemic. Her personal story can be heard in this week’s episode of the ABC News podcast “The Essentials: Inside the Curve.”

In addition to her work as a veterinarian, Kulick plays music in a queer orchestra in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan called the Queer Urban Orchestra. Her husband, a professional musician who she met in college through playing music together, encouraged her to join the orchestra when she moved to New York City 10 years ago.

“I joined as a straight member and ally and then found that I am queer as well,” she said. “Coming from a Southern Baptist upbringing in Virginia, that was kind of a revelation for me. That's part of why I love New York so much.”

Being a part of the orchestra, which Kulick describes as like family, has been a welcome release from her high stakes job. The last photo on her phone from before her life changed due to the coronavirus pandemic shows members of the orchestra and other friends at a bar in Manhattan, celebrating after one of their orchestra concerts.

As a trumpet player, Kulick became involved in a tradition of playing “Taps” -- a bugle call played at military funerals -- around the 7 p.m. cheers for essential workers each day. As featured on WNBC, the tradition began when her neighbor and former Marine Josh Landress began playing “Taps” from his balcony in memory of those who have died from COVID and Kulick offered to echo him.

“It means a lot to me to do, particularly because we've lost people,” she said.

Although her shifts end at 7 p.m., Kulick said that in order to honor those that have died, including the family members of her coworkers, she has sprinted home with her mask on in order to make it in time to play the solemn tribute.

“I have a close friend whose mom has been on a ventilator for over a month,” she said. “Following cases and seeing all the people I knew that went on ventilators, except for this friend's mom, died. So she's the only one left. She has to make it.”