Cherie Buisson, DVM, CHPV

I’m sitting here, and I can’t work because I’m weeping at the end of “A League of Their Own”. It doesn’t help that I’m feeling nostalgic and that the aged Geena Davis character resembles my grandmother, who died nearly 20 years ago.  It also doesn’t help that I haven’t gone to see my parents this week (they are literally a 10 minute drive away) when I had resolved I was going to stop by more often. This is a bit of an overreaction on my part, but it’s obvious that I needed a good cry. So, let’s go back and see where all this angst is coming from.

I had a meeting with my financial advisers today and as usual, I left feeling that I’m not doing enough (side note: this is NOT their doing, but my own self-pressure). I had a few hours of quiet to get some work done and knocked out a ton of stuff I’d been trying to accomplish. I’m on a tear to stop money bleeding from my practice while increasing my income. I’m working hard to get out and stay out of debt. I’m also trying to live the life I want to live, which is the whole reason I work in the first place.

Seven years ago, I was half a million dollars in debt. Half. A. Million. I made an incredible number of boneheaded decisions in my early adult life. Today, I’m a little under 100K in debt, and it’s all my student loan (the continued existence of which is another result of said boneheaded decisions). In an effort to temper how miraculous that sounds, I should reveal that I lost my house in 2009. That took care of a huge portion of the debt. The rest was eliminated through the generosity of others, hard work, and sacrifice.  Now, I’m focused on saving as much as I can. At nearly 42 years old, I finally have a financial plan with goals on a timeline. Better late than never.

Except where donuts are concerned, I’m now pretty good at self-discipline. I am entirely capable of buckling down and Scrooging my finances. However, I’ve also lost two friends my age to cancer recently. I have several more that are fighting the battle. My husband’s best friend died from a brain tumor in his fifties. I’ve lost friends to suicide. My friends are starting to lose their parents. All this, and I’m trying to teach veterinary professionals to care for themselves and never lose sight of why they work so hard.

(Photo credit: Columbia Pictures)

So I’m sitting on the couch, catching up on work that isn’t earning me any money.  I feel guilty that I haven’t gone over to Mom and Dad’s. I feel even guiltier because it isn’t a chore to go see my parents – I love hanging out with them – but I feel like I can’t spare the time from work. I’m denying myself something that I really want to do and will almost certainly regret not doing as time goes by.

As much as I preach self-care, I’m not always good at following my advice. Hence the dust in my quilting room.  I didn’t exercise today because I stayed up too late last night. I ate a cookie. My office phone isn’t ringing. The avalanche of guilt, doubt and fear rumbled right over me, so I ended up ugly crying at a movie that’s really only sniffle-worthy. So, as much as explaining it to my brain trust is gonna hurt, I’m going to make sure I have some fun while I work toward a better financial future.

I’ve made enormous progress in the last few years, but because I am a type-A veterinarian, the fact that I’m not where I want to be right now feels a little like failure. Thankfully, Tom and CJ showed me my progress in black and white, so I can feel proud that I’ve made it this far. I have to remind myself that rolling around covered in $100 bills means nothing if that’s all you have at the end of your career.

Once I kicked myself in the ass and dried my tears, this article started forming in my head. Basically, I took 900 or so words to tell you (and myself), “It’s OK”. We all have doubt and fear. We all fall off the rah-rah wagon sometimes. There’s this nebulous destination we all want to reach, this thing called “success” or “happiness” or “peace”. Sometimes we’re so caught up getting there, that we miss all the scenery along the way. My Dad always tells me, “Enjoy the ride”. That’s easier said than done most days, but on days like today, it’s super important to remember.

So I’ll leave you with this – be the tortoise instead of the hare. Don’t be in such a hurry to get everything finished. Look back and see what you’ve already accomplished and bask in it for a moment.  We all get to the finish line, some sooner than others.  Make sure that you look out the window and enjoy the view. Take the time to do nothing every now and then. Cherish the people and pets in your life.  Most of all, do some stuff you want to do in between all the stuff you have to do.  If you need me, I’ll be visiting my parents.

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’s a liar that lives inside us all. The conniving, evil voice in our heads that tells us we’re not good enough, or that we need to be afraid, or that something bad is coming, or that we’re not loved. In some of us, the liar’s voice is quiet and only able to be heard during the worst of times. In others, it is seductive and convincing, wrapping around the brain like a snake and squeezing to get its way. In a very unfortunate few, it is a scream that drowns out everything else. It can happen occasionally or be there every minute of every day. Just when you think it’s gone, the voice whispers in your ear, “You WISH”.

I have trouble understanding suicide. I used to be one of those people who thought those who committed suicide were selfish. I felt anger towards those in my life who had left me much too early. With the help of an online support group for veterinarians, I realized that isn’t the case at all. To the person contemplating suicide, it seems like the only option. Because the liar says so, and the liar is loud and strong.

My liar tells me to be afraid. It tells me that if I make a mistake, my career will be over. It tells me that catastrophes are around every corner. It keeps me awake at night. It taunts me for my imperfections. It stares out from my eyes in the mirror and says, “Why don’t you work out more? You’re getting flabby. You aren’t as smart as you think. You’re going to fail. You’re getting old. The people you love will die”. When I was a child, the voice was terrifying. As I learned to live with its constant prattle, I got used to being ready for disaster any second. My stomach lining suffered and I couldn’t sleep. When I did sleep, I had nightmares.

Medication can make the liar weak. It’s like that terrified dog that wants to eat everyone in the clinic. A little something to take the edge off, and things get better.  The side effects may be unpleasant, but for the two times in my life when I was overcome and needed help, it was worth it. With a combination of self-awareness, meditation, exercise, hormones and acupuncture, the liar’s voice has become quiet. It still shouts out and takes me by surprise here and there but in general, I’m much happier. I don’t work as many hours in the clinic as most veterinarians, but that’s the only way I stay healthy. This felt like failure in the beginning, but not anymore.

The liar’s agenda is to get you alone and have you all to itself. Like an abusive spouse, it isolates you from anyone who can help. Your loved ones sit helpless and agonized as you withdraw and push them away. In order to defeat the liar, you have to ask for help. Preventing you from doing this is the liar’s priority. It will whisper (or shout) that you are unloved, beyond help, hopeless. Don’t listen. While I’ve never been suicidal, I have experience with the liar telling me to be afraid, and believing even though I know it’s a lie. I have been paralyzed with terror for absolutely no reason except the liar desires that it  is so.

Reaching out can save you. The liar will pin your arms to your sides to prevent it, but you can do it. If all that is left in your mind is to end your life, you have NOTHING to lose by reaching out. Post on social media, call a friend, call your parents, ask your partner, call the police, go to the hospital. If you knew someone in the same boat, do what you would tell them to do. I promise you, the world is full of people who will lift you up. Surrender yourself to the voices around you, and not to the one in your head – even if you feel sure no one will care. Ask yourself if the hand up you’re being offered belongs to a good and decent person. If it does, try believing them. Grab on tight and let the liar howl and scream and writhe in your head. Focus on that connection you make with another human being until the liar is silenced.

Use that part of your brain that can keep you calm while the pet in front of you is dying. Use that capacity you have to put everything in a box until the crisis is over. At the moment when the person in the mirror is in danger of dying, nothing else matters. Your reputation, your job, even your family needs to take a back seat so you can save yourself. You are worth it, I promise.

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.

 

A recent discussion about online reviews led me to an epiphany. I think much of the mental health crisis in veterinary medicine stems from feelings of helplessness. We are consistently at the mercy of others and feeling forced to act against our will. While some of these scenarios are just part of the job, there are others that we can and should do something about.

1. We are definitely at the mercy of nature.

No matter how much we know, no matter how excellent we are, sometimes pets get sick and die. We feel like we should have been able to do something. There are times when the devastated owners tell us we have failed and threaten us as a result of their grief. The process by which we can be threatened has become far easier thanks to the internet. All complaints have to be addressed, even if they are completely ridiculous. This can take a year or two, leaving the veterinarian in anguish until a decision is made. If satisfaction can’t be gained there, we are tried in the court of public opinion.

2. We are at the mercy of the internet.

Word of mouth is a whole new ballgame nowadays. What in the past would have been gossip spread more slowly in person can now reach literally millions of people in a very short amount of time. People not at all involved and lacking the facts can weigh in without any consequences. Online reviews can be completely false and still remain prominent. We are instructed by the experts to “take it offline” and “don’t fight back”. We sit, helpless, unable to defend ourselves. Our clients know this and will deliberately threaten a bad review if they don’t get their way. If our great clients decide to defend us, their reviews can be labeled as spam and hidden from view.

3. We are at the mercy of our employers and coworkers.

If we are not the practice owner, our professional lives lie in the hands of others. They create our schedule, determine what supplies and medications we have available and decide whether abusive clients are allowed to see us and talk to us. Our licenses lie in their hands, and sometimes those hands aren’t very careful.

4. We are at the mercy of the rules.

We have to sit and grind our teeth while completely unqualified people give advice to our clients. We can’t give advice online unless we have a valid relationship with the patient and client. We are the only ones restricted in this way and punished if we step over the line. It’s fair game for everyone else.

5. We are at the mercy of tradition.

“The customer is always right” is a fallacy. I’m a big believer in using empathy and being calm in the face of an irate or grieving client who has a valid reason for being upset. Good communication can often defuse these situations and bring the client around. Good communication can help avoid losing a client or getting wrapped up in a law suit or board complaint. However, there is a big problem in our field with clients being allowed to abuse us. I don’t believe in engaging in a verbal screaming match with a client, but I believe strongly in refusing to allow a client to scream and curse at anyone on the team. Hanging up the phone after a polite warning is given is absolutely an acceptable response to a verbally abusive client. No one has the right to abuse anyone on your team in any way. Requiring that your employees tolerate abusive behavior could lead to serious consequences.

6. We are at the mercy of our brains and bodies.

Everyone gets sick. Everyone has “off” days. If our brains or bodies betray us when we have a full schedule, there is little sympathy to be found. We have to stop thinking that we are so necessary that we can’t be sick or injured. It breaks my heart to see human beings who need rest and care pushing to continue working because they don’t feel they have a choice. We shouldn’t have to land ourselves in the hospital before it’s ok to call in sick.

7. We are at the mercy of economics.

There are pets we know we can fix, but their owners can’t afford care. If we provide free care to every pet that needs it, then our businesses will go bankrupt and we won’t be able to help anyone. Pets still get sick when there is a recession. Pets still get sick when their owner loses their job. We feel responsible for the health and safety of every pet, and when our hands are tied, it’s devastating.

8. We are at the mercy of ourselves.

No one is harder on a veterinarian than the person they see in the mirror. We want to be perfect. We’re expected to be perfect. We can NEVER be perfect.

Feeling helpless is a terrible thing. It’s frightening and depressing. As a profession, we need to start taking steps to reduce feelings of helplessness. Talk about it at your staff meetings. Make a list of all the ways you feel helpless in your life. Then set about finding ways to reduce or eliminate those situations. The problem won’t go away if we ignore it.  Look at the ways you can set boundaries. Take care of yourself. Be sick when you’re sick. Be human. The only person you can control is YOU. Once you accept that simple fact AND realize how powerful you are, your feelings of helplessness will fade away.

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.

When I was in high school, I was part of a very special Christmas tradition. The concert choir at Largo High School auditioned and was selected to participate in Epcot Center’s Candlelight Processional. We arrived by bus to the theme park and were quickly removed to backstage to rehearse. Hundreds of high school students from all over Florida were packed into an enormous warehouse. In the center of our chairs, a raised stage held our conductor and several guests.

Each year, a celebrity read parts of the Christmas story to us, and we responded in song. The original composer of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, a frail old man who had to be helped onto the stage, sang for us in an amazingly deep and resonant voice. We processed through the entire park, holding candles and singing Christmas carols. As we climbed to our place in the tree-shaped bleachers, we excitedly waited for our celebrity to emerge. George Kennedy, Paula Zahn and James Earl Jones lent their voices to my processionals. I had goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature the year Darth Vader read the Christmas Story. I cried through a good bit of my singing, but with so many voices, no one noticed.

I was still technically a kid at this time. There were no bills, decorating and buying presents hadn’t yet become a bit of a burden, and I had a job where making a mistake never resulted in death. All I had was the joy of the season, time with my loved ones and a vacation from school. Somewhere along the line, I forgot how special this time was to me, until the year I canceled Christmas.

In 2016, almost half my family moved to Hawaii. Our party of seven for the holidays is now reduced to four. We are all experiencing some melancholy, especially since the youngest and most enthusiastic among us will be spending Christmas on a tropical island with her parents. My parents are retiring at the end of the year, with the usual financial concerns that accompany this momentous event.

I asked my mom if she would be open to just spending time together this holiday instead of decorating, cooking and buying presents. Happily, she was up for it and booked us dinner reservations at the Don Cesar for Christmas. They put up a tree and lights, and I didn’t. Finally, my husband caved and suggested we get a small tree – the first live tree we’ve had in almost a decade. It was quickly and easily decorated, which made me happy. I’ve been listening to Christmas music and watching holiday-themed movies all season.

I looked up the Candlelight Processional CD online. I check every year, and I always talk myself out of it.  This year, I bought a digital copy. I’m listening to it now. I still remember most of my part, though my voice doesn’t go as high as it did then, and I’m kind of scaring the hell out of my dogs. I’m happy. I found my Christmas spirit in music and family. I’m a better vet because I’m not adding holiday stress to work stress. In fact, I’m less stressed at work because I’m so rested at home. I thought cancelling all the Christmas hoopla would make me sad this season, but it didn’t. It helped me get back to the things that are important to me in a way that fills me with joy. This holiday season, don’t be afraid to make a change. In fact, go looking for one. It’s the season of magic and miracles – there’s no harm in making your own!

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.