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There I Said It: I’m Not Your Therapist

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There, I said it. I’ve actually been thinking it for a long time. I don’t want to hear client stories unrelated to their pet’s visits. I have no desire to understand their family’s tangled web of conflict. Much less take on the task of caring enough to serve as the peacemaker. I’m your veterinarian, I’m not your therapist. Boy, does it feel good to have this off my chest.

The Back Story

Whether you realize it or not, just about every day in the clinic is story time for clients. I dare say about half of that time is wasted on useless information. Stories that in no way, shape or form are contributing to their pet’s visit. It may come directly from the client’s mouth, or via the staff member taking the call, but there never fails to be an endless supply of meaningless verbiage that precedes the actual question or concern. And in actuality, if those words were never spoken, my efficiency would increase astronomically. There’s a lady on the phone whose car is in the shop. She’s not sure when she’ll get it back because her check engine light came on. She hasn’t heard from the mechanic yet about what the problem is. Her daughter is in rehab, so she can use her car. She can book an appointment anytime this week for her pet’s annual exam.

I have a morning ritual of feeding the deer sunflower seeds and whole ears of corn. I toss it into the yard and I’ve actually been able to get close enough for one to feed from my hand. While I’m out there I photograph all the birds in the trees and the squirrels frolicking in the yard. When I came back inside the other morning after feeding the wildlife I found Fluffy had peed in the kitchen.

Emotional Strain

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I can at least chuckle over those as I look back on them. What I no longer have a tolerance for, and have established emotional boundaries in response to, is being dragged into guilt trips over sad circumstances. I can’t allow myself to carry the unnecessary burdens that some clients try to place on others (unintentionally, sometimes). It’s bad enough being the bearer of bad news on a fairly regular basis. I won’t be made to feel worse if it puts them in a financial and/or emotional predicament in which they are ultimately responsible for.

My brother is the one who said dogs don’t need vaccines. I’m so mad that I listened to him. He always thinks he knows best when he clearly doesn’t. I need you to call and tell him he was wrong. Can you also be the one to tell him he needs to pay for my sick puppy?

I lost my mom five years ago and she left me her dog. We never had a great relationship but I’ve discovered since having this pet what love can look like. This dog is all that I have left of my mother and you’re telling me that he needs a surgery I can’t afford? How can you put me in this position?

Harden Your Heart

I have a tremendous amount of compassion and empathy. But these days, it’s reserved only for the pets I’m responsible for. I will gladly take on the burden of tough decisions for the sake of my patient’s best interest. That’s part of the job and part of the oath that I took as a veterinarian.

However, there has to be a limit. I won’t be responsible for, or take on the weight of, inner conflicts and guilt that many clients struggle with behind closed doors. That’s not in my job description, and I’m not willing to serve that role in the non-existent spare time I have during my day. And I won’t even consider carrying that burden home with me once the working day ends anymore. I’ve hardened my heart for the sake of my mental and emotional health.

James Herriot Lies

I can hear it now, “But what sets veterinarians apart from human doctors is their willingness to lend an ear.” People won’t care how much you know until they know how much you care, right? Clearly the perfect veterinarian is one just as passionate about people as they are their pets. I call B.S. on it all. Since when did caring take the form of putting out small fires throughout the day related to client lives? Why can’t I show how much I care through the work I do to uncover a pet’s disease or alleviate a pet’s pain, rather than knowing every family member’s name. In fact, if I have to wind up knowing every family member’s name during the work up of a case, I’m actually more likely to not care. Just being honest.

Bedside Manner

Bedside manner is absolutely how one establishes trust with a client. I get it. It can and does set veterinarians apart from other health professionals. Returning phone calls, same-day lab work, the ability to work within a budget and across specialities also sets us apart. More importantly, the ability to relate to a client as it pertains to their pet creates the bedside manner that should bring people back to you.

Being supportive as clients face difficult decisions for their pets, while portraying empathy and offering guidance during that decision making process are not things that I take lightly. These acts are ultimately the ones that demonstrate the compassion that veterinarians are known for, and always will be. The fact that one chooses to not get anymore involved in client dynamics should not, and does not, fault that veterinarian.

Setting Boundaries

Deep down I really do care about people. I’m human. But I can’t allow myself to become consumed in the emotional rollercoasters of people’s lives anymore. Otherwise I wouldn’t have the compassion left to give to their pets, or the strength to show up every day. It’s a large task caring for pets, that for the most part are considered family members. It’s an even larger task sometimes to handle the human emotions that come along with having a pet. There’s no course in veterinary school for that.

I have to harden my heart to the rest. I can’t lose sight of my ultimate goal, and the reason I show up every day to work – the animals that rely on me to make the appropriate recommendations for their care without any outside influences. This boundary has to be set to create a healthy distance, inside and outside of work.

At least for me, it’s one I wish I set sooner. I know not everyone needs this or feels the same. But some of us do, and if so that’s okay. Besides, why would any client want me as their therapist when I’m in desperate need of my own?

There I Said It… I Was Fired Three Times!

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It’s hard to even type this. To relive the three times in vet med I was actually fired (there’s a fourth, but I beat them to the punch). Without sounding overly arrogant, the veterinary field lost a damn good worker and a damn good technician. I tried, I really gave it my all. And I didn’t even get a lousy T-shirt… I got termination papers instead.

All I can think is that every time I stepped foot into a veterinary job, I had big ol’ target on my forehead. It must’ve said something like “I’m an easy target” or “Bully me” or “Blame this guy.”

But of course, you must be thinking… dude you were fired that many times, there must be something wrong with you! Because, that is all I am thinking, day in and day out. Ten years in the field and all I have is anxiety and termination papers. It seems so unfair.

First time, I was fired after just two weeks. Just two short weeks in a brand-new city and a brand-new job. They didn’t have to even give me a reason (right to work), but I could tell they just felt awful about it. Oddly enough, they went as far as contacting 5 other clinics and telling them that I would be looking for a job. Is that even legal? It seems so wrong, and that then made five less clinics I would even consider applying to.

Second time, I got the blame for deleting a file on a computer. Again, they can just fire you without a reason. However, I got the reason out of them and handed over my flash drive immediately to show them I didn’t have it. The person who actually deleted it fessed up right away too when she realized what was happening. It was an accident that for some reason was seen as a deliberate and malicious attack. Of course, there was no rehiring or apology.

Third time was probably the worst. I won’t go into details, but to be accused of theft is just a stab direct into the heart. I am not a thief! To be accused and labeled as one is just beyond absurd. The attending doctor tried so hard to stand up for me because she knew better. Anyone who knows me, knows I would never do that. When I’ve shared details of my story with people in the profession, they tell me what I did happens all the time, and no one else ever gets fired over it. But me! I’m the one that gets the cut.

The fourth time would’ve happened, but like I said, I beat them to the punch. I got intel that I was on the chopping block after I had my review. Their reasoning was because I said “by law I am allowed to have a break.” There! That statement was grounds for termination. I did not threaten or say anything else, but I was over this idea that no one at this clinic gets breaks or lunches. What is wrong with this industry?!?!

I feel like I could have really done great things, made life better for techs, doctors and maybe even helped a few pets. Somehow, I feel shunned, as if I don’t or have never belonged in this industry. The door keeps slamming in my face.

I fully understand the short careers of vet techs and the mental illness that haunts the industry with the high suicide rates. Luckily, I haven’t been tormented in that way. However, something has to change! Why is this allowed? Why are some people judged more harshly or constantly taking the brunt of consequences? I may never know the answer. I pray for those of you struggling or trying desperately to hold on to what is left of this. I am jealous of those who have their spot and deal with very little drama or toxicity. You are the lucky ones. For now, I will work on a new career path and find something else that makes my heart tick so loudly.

Sincerely,

A CVT moving on

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

There, I Said it: I’m Sorry I Judged You

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A client came into the clinic with her ancient dog for an appointment. Fluffy really needed to cross the Rainbow Bridge… like, two months before. This dog was receiving subcutaneous fluids for renal failure, and the owner insisted that the poor creature was still running and frolicking at home. We all found this hard to believe, since we had to administer the treatment while Fluffy was in lateral recumbency. She had to be on her side; she could barely lift her head.

The judgment in the treatment room was strong. Murmurs grew against the client: how cruel it was that she insisted on treating Fluffy when she was clearly suffering, how we wished we could put the dog out of her misery. A couple of vets already gave her the “Come to Jesus” talk, but the client wouldn’t budge.

I felt so awful for your beloved dog, but not for the reasons you may think. I have the same disease as Fluffy.

Yes, the technician that gave Fluffy her SQs is in renal failure.

I’m on the kidney transplant list and doing my best to keep my head above water at work. Every time I have a patient with CKD, it haunts me a little. I scan their blood work and compare their numbers to mine. I take a history and note that my patient is vomiting a few times a week. I did the same thing when my numbers looked like hers, and I know what’s coming for her. Anemia is not kind. The insomnia, the nausea, and the confusion are crippling. The treatment options are just that, treatments. There is no cure. And the treatments are only temporary bandaids.

One shift we had three patients in a row that were newly diagnosed with CKD, first thing in the morning. I wanted to cry, seeing room after room of clients, their faces contorting at the news. I imagine mine did the same thing in front of my doctor when I found out I have CKD.

I also know how much it sucks to have a beloved pet with renal failure. The whole thing hit home for me when my old kitty went in for blood work a couple of months ago. Besides his other numerous issues (I’m a technician, and it’s nearly required by law that I have a pet with issues), his renal values are creeping up. The clumps in the litterbox grow larger, and the water bowl empties faster. I know it’s just a matter of time before I’m bringing him in for a date with the pink juice.

Last weekend was a bad one for my kitty: lots of vomit, lots of confused yowling. I thought we’d be lucky if we made it to Monday, and I checked to see who the weekend on call DVM was, just in case. While discussing euthanasia with my spouse, the cat jumped on my lap and head-butted me while purring. The little !@#!. I started to cry.

I couldn’t do it. He’s still around, and I’ve blown through a bottle of Nature’s Miracle.

Dear client, I’m sorry I judged you. I’m sorry for contributing to the negative clinic chatter about how selfish you are, and how the huge needle is just torture for Fluffy three times a week. I’m sorry you’re watching her go downhill, and there’s not much you can do at this late stage.

And I’m sorry for the technicians that have to watch the horror show every treatment. I wonder how my spouse will handle my treatment, when dialysis comes. I wonder if transplant will happen for me, and if I will ever work full time as an on the floor technician again, or if my days “teching” are gone forever. I wonder what I will feel like, when my BUN and creatinine rival your pet’s values. Will I be able to lift my head, or will I rest in lateral?

I’m sorry for us all. It’s a horrible disease.

I don’t know your personal reasons for keeping Fluffy alive, but I’m sure they are important to you. I’d love to hear the story of how Fluffy came into your life, and what she means to you. And yes, when you realize it’s time to free Fluffy from her suffering, I’ll be relieved for her, but I’ll also cry with you for your loss.

My illness has led me to be a more compassionate technician, and I’ve gotten quite comfortable discussing treatments and medications and diets with clients. I just need to remember what it looks like from the other side of the table, the client’s side.

Sincerely,

A Very Exhausted RVT

There I Said It

 

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

There, I Said It: Not My Circus and Not My Fleas

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I want to dedicate this to all my fellow associate veterinarians, veterinary technicians, and vet assistants… basically anyone who doesn’t own or run the clinic.  You’ve got a difficult and challenging, yet rewarding job.  Don’t worry, the managers and owners have their own sets of challenges and tasks to take care of because they have a lot of responsibility.  But your job has its limits and it very likely isn’t your show to run.

Now this may sound awkward, but yes, it’s not your circus. This may bring a flood of conflicting emotions, or maybe it won’t.  Many of us in the veterinary field are those type “A” personalities.  We want to take charge, make change, do things for the greater good.  Yet, for a large number of us, this may not seem possible and it can get very frustrating.  This may bring on a whole new level of stress or displeasure in your job.  You may choose to quit, let your job performance suffer, or lash out at co-workers.  This was me….and I hated my job but also the stress I had let creep into my life.  It’s difficult but – stop.

Some of those things you might think are so important or other facets of running the clinic you might think are crucial or the most important things in your day aren’t.  Face it; some things just aren’t yours to deal with and that’s okay.  If you keep jumping in to take charge, it’s an excess burden on yourself but you’re also usually picking up the slack for somebody else.  People need to be accountable for their own responsibilities.  This doesn’t mean that you can’t help but instead of taking charge, ask what you can do to help.  Let someone else take the lead.

Remember, above all other things, you have one job to focus on…the welfare and care of animal patients and their families.  You may be asked to help out or work on projects that will ultimately help the clinic reach that goal but that means that you should not focus your energy on seeking those things out especially if the animals aren’t all taken care of first.  Trust me, running around like a bull in a china shop with ideas is not the way to get things done.  It might feel good to vent all those ideas, concerns, or problems, but chances are less than 25% of it will actually lead to the change you want to see.

You may be in a unique position.  Chances are you may have experience at another veterinary clinic and have some valid ideas.  Ask yourself though, what your reason for getting involved is or what will it do to you in terms of your time and energy?  Take that moment to step back, think, and maybe don’t spearhead the project.  There’s a time and a place to share and try to implement some positive changes so that everyone can benefit. Remember, “not your circus, not your fleas.”

There I Said It

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

There, I Said It: I Feel Like I Have to Keep Secrets

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I know a thing or two about stigma. I have a secret.  Make that two.  Some people know part of this, some of them know both parts, most don’t know either.  I no longer know how to rank which secret is darker, especially in the intolerant climate of social media today.

About a year ago I had bariatric surgery.  I had reached the point where I had to make more drastic changes in my life and I had to admit I couldn’t do it on my own.

The sleeve gastrectomy was the path I choose after countless diets, countless failed attempts, years of therapy, and not being able to bear the weight of me any longer.  Why didn’t I try harder, have I tried this diet or that diet, have I tried loving me, have I tried going to the gym?

I’ve heard all the questions and I can feel the weight of judgement settle on me, nearly as heavy as the other me I have lost.  That’s the first secret I’m letting you in on.

I got sucked in the other day to post on the Veterinary Nursing Initiative.  Alright, that’s not true, I got sucked into the comments.  I sat up that night thinking about the parallels between the comments section on this post on that feed and the comment section on any post about bariatric surgery.

Some people were positive, some people were negative, some people were angry, some people were scared, some were belligerent, some were accusational, some clearly had their own agenda, and some were curious.

Here’s the thing, here’s my other secret: I am an alternate route credentialed veterinary technician.  I did not graduate from a two year, or a four year program.  I was on the job trained, I took a completely legal, state board approved alternate route program, passed my test with high marks, paid my licensing fees, and became credentialed.

I contribute actively to the veterinary community and have kept my license active through extensive (far more than required) continuing education.

There are people in those comments, who like those in the bariatric comments, believe I don’t deserve to be where I am.  That some how my journey is invalidated because of the route I took to get here.  They believe I am a fraud.

Veterinary team members are known for their nearly boundless compassion for patients.  If only this translated to compassion for co-workers and community members.

The pervasive negativity in the conversations surrounding any trending topic in veterinary medicine is isolating.  It contributes to the mental health crisis our community faces.  While I don’t need to share my path with anyone, the commentary I read on social media makes it far less likely that I will expose myself to the imposter accusations. This means my support network has shrunk significantly.

The isolation puts me at higher risk for depression and anxiety and my shrinking support network increases my risk of getting help when I need it, which, because of the isolation, I will.  The stigma surrounding my needing help will also dissuade me from reaching out.

After all, I’m aware of how the community views me and I know that I will need to make myself even more vulnerable in order to ask for help.

The veterinary community has a long way to go to be a safe space for someone who is ready to admit they need help.  Will you take that first step with me?  I know, that first step is scary, but here are four things you need to know about mental health, stigma, and the veterinary community.

If you hold onto this, it’ll help you maintain the balance as you take those steps.

1.  Needing help isn’t criminal.

2.  There will always be supporters and saboteurs.  Be the supporter.

3.  There isn’t just one path.

4.  You can be anything. Be kind.

TISI banner

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

There, I Said It: I Want to Be a Stay-at-Home Mom

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I saw a PostSecret recently.  It was a postcard of the Stanford campus and said, “Stanford. I am ashamed to admit to my friends that even though I go to one of the top universities in the country, all I want to do is be a stay-at-home mom.”

I may not have attended one of the top universities in the country, but I was accepted into one of the most rigorous professions. I worked hard to be admitted to veterinary school. I studied and trained through blood, sweat, and tears to become a veterinarian.  I also struggled through blood, sweat, and tears to become a mother, and the day I gave birth and held my child as a mother I hold in infinitely higher regard than the day I walked across the stage and held my diploma as a veterinarian.

While I whole-heartedly intended on practicing for a good many years, when I had a child, all that changed.

I define myself as a veterinarian and a mother, and while there are many who succeed at combining the two, the demands of each in my case have fought a battle of time and love.  On the one hand, I want my child to see me working, having a career.  I do not want to lose the knowledge and skills I worked so hard to gain.  But on the other hand, I want to be there for my child, to be present, to be a teacher and a mother.  In the end, mother > veterinarian, for now.

My child is only going to be young for a short time.  Maybe when my child starts school, I will be able to make amends with my veterinarian-self and reconcile mother and veterinarian to go back to work.  In the meantime, I am privileged and oh-so-fortunate to be able to be a stay-at-home mom.  While I was ashamed to say it before, I will proudly say it now, “I love being a stay-at-home mom.”

I hope the Stanford student can work through her shame as I have done (although some shame will always linger in the background when seeing old classmates, friends, colleagues), and realize that being a stay-at-home mom is a worthy endeavor to be proud of.

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.