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How to Avoid Answer Exhaustion

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I have this theory and I have tested it extensively. Simply put, there is a limit to how many questions I can answer in a day. Personally, I am able to answer 76.5 questions, before I go into answer exhaustion. 

I’m kidding about knowing how many answers I have in a day, but for certain, there is a limit. 

Each day, it’s my hope and prayer not to reach my quota in the final hour of the workday or just as I arrive home. 

Running out of answers too early isn’t fair to my team, my family or myself.

For example, if I run out of answers and the receptionist comes to me with, 

“Doctor, Mr. Jones has a question about his dog licking his neuter incision.”

I can hear you answering in your head…

’Tell him to come in for a cone, ’ or ‘see if one of the technicians is free to guide him through this crisis.’ 

… but you are wrong, as remember, I’m already in answer exhaustion.

So, my brain clicks into defensive-anger, and I spurt out, 

“I told Mr. Jones to take the head cone and he said ‘no, my dog hates the cone’.

Well, sure they suck, but so does a scrotal infection! 

Why can’t people just listen?” as I stomp to the phone, put on a fake voice and take the call. 

Not only am I not being genuine, but I’m modeling the kind of behavior we’ve been team building for months to avoid in our practice.

Excuse me while I bash my head on the table.

Furthermore, as much as you don’t want to run out of answers at work, you especially don’t want to run out at home.

Child: “Mom, what’s for dinner?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

Child: “How about smarties… on pancakes… with pop?”

Me (in a state of answer exhaustion): “Sounds good, honey.”

In order to avoid further disaster, here are some tips from the trenches.

1. Take breaks

To learn how I might stretch out my answer quota for the day, I called a good friend and mindfulness/yoga guru; Dr. Gwen June, Past President of the Ontario Veterinary Medical Association and practicing veterinarian in Windsor, Ontario.

Gwen offered this advice, 

“When it’s busy and getting overwhelming, I pay attention to my breathing and take a full breath to help me get grounded for the next patient/client.”

So, let’s remember the basics everyone;

– breathe

– go pee (yes, you are allowed to use the bathroom during the day)

– drink a glass of water

– take another breath

2. Learn your limits

When you’ve spent your answer quota for the day, think about it, and try to remember how it felt just before you hit your threshold. In this way, you can do your best to avoid hitting the wall again.

Then it’s time to employ a simple, yet powerful statement. 

“I don’t think I have anything left. Can someone else possibly help you?”

Give yourself a break. It is PERFECTLY OKAY not to be everything to everyone in every moment.

3. Tag

Did you ever consider that maybe you don’t need to have all the answers? 

Dalia Gough, practice owner and amazing veterinarian at the Grimsby Animal Hospital, suggests leaning on the answers already at your fingertips. 

“I’m big on resources like Life Learn Client Education articles and VIN articles. These help me in case I forget something. Also, they help to personalize the discussion and gives the client more to engage in at home.” 

4. Practice curiosity 

No matter what, sometimes there are questions destined to push you over the threshold.

Regardless of the nature, before you lose your crackers, Teressa Jonescu a coach with Veterinary Purchasing offers the following advice. 

“Practice ‘curiosity before judgment’. It’s very helpful when you are faced with an amygdala hijack. It’s probably the best coaching I have ever been given personally or professionally AND it works. As I feel the well running dry, if I can take a step back and start asking myself some questions or even better start asking the person who is draining my energy some good questions, the water miraculously starts to flow again.’

In conclusion, as you become a master of awareness and are effectively managing your answer quota for the day, remember your team.  

One of the best ways to restock your answer quota is to do something kind for another. 

If you see your work buddy is close to running out of answers, offer to take that phone call for them. After all, we’re in this together.

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Donna Curtin practices veterinary medicine in Bruce County, Ontario, close to her family’s poultry and cash crop farm, where she lives with her husband, two children, three cats and two destructive dogs. In Dr. Curtin’s writing, animals play important characters, just as often as people.

I’ve Never Had a Plan B

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I have been practicing veterinary medicine for nearly 17 years. I graduated from the University of Tennessee College of Veterinary Medicine in 2003, a starry-eyed 24-year-old ready to start the career I’d been dreaming of since childhood. I was one of those 6-year-olds that knew she wanted to be a vet in 1st grade, and doggedly stuck with it. Honestly, after all this time, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do as a career (and it’s a good thing since there was never a Plan B).  I have encountered plenty of reasons to become burned out on and disillusioned by the profession. I’ve had my bad days (heck, I’ve had my bad years). But what keeps me coming back for more is the relationships: the people, their animals, and my coworkers.

As an animal-lover, veterinary medicine seemed like a no-brainer. But I did not imagine, as I was planning my future career, how much I’d enjoy interacting with the pet owners as much as their furry companions.  I’ve met my share of difficult people over the years, but the vast majority are kind, interesting, unique, and genuine. As an introvert, being in big groups of people and social situations can be difficult for me, but that exam room with the client and their pet? That’s my wheelhouse. I’m a good listener, and sometimes people just need to talk. Getting to know people, watching their kids grow up, laughing and crying together, protecting that human-animal bond – it’s a big part of why I love this job.

I still get excited about the animals (and the medicine). Obviously, the puppies and kittens. But also the old, grey faces. The grizzled tomcats with their thick jowls and battle scars. The timid and scared ones, when you have to work to gain their trust. Removing the huge bleeding splenic tumor, and getting a blood sample from the tiny medial saphenous vein in the dehydrated old cat with kidney disease. Catching that Addison’s disease diagnosis. Delicately easing a Cuterebra larva out of the nose of a kitten. Using acupuncture and Western medicine to help a dog with a ruptured disc walk again. Finding the tick on a tick paralysis case. The mysteries and the puzzles and the challenging cases. And, yes, even the euthanasia appointments – it can feel like an honor to help a beloved pet say goodbye, especially those we have known since they were a few weeks old. That ”cradle-to-grave” relationship is something our MD counterparts usually don’t get the privilege to have, and it’s a very special thing.

Lastly, I have been lucky to work with veterinary technicians and veterinarian colleagues over the years that I count as friends-for-life. These people are my tribe. My work family. We just “get” each other. They’ve been my only friends in a new city, they’ve introduced me to my husband, they’ve danced at my wedding, they’ve coached me through childbirth. We hug and pass the tissues on hard days, and we laugh and crack each other up on the better days. We can go from eating cupcakes in the break room to performing CPR on a hit by car patient within seconds. The work environment is so important to quality of life for a veterinarian, and I feel that the teams I’ve worked with have made me a better vet and a better person.

So, that’s it, in a nutshell. I was talking to a retirement advisor recently that asked, “So, when do you want to retire?” I paused, then answered, “65? Well, maybe 70? But maybe I’ll still work part-time…”  It’s hard to say and difficult to imagine. It’s part of who I am. Even with the difficulties and challenges in the veterinary profession, now in the present and those we face in the future, I’ll always be grateful that little 6-year-old me chose this path and clung to it stubbornly. I can’t imagine doing anything else. 

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dr. Katie Smithson grew up in Chattanooga and graduated from the University of Tennessee College of Veterinary Medicine in 2003. She spent the following 11 years working in a holistic small animal veterinary hospital in Charlotte, NC. She and her family moved back to the Chattanooga area in 2014. Dr. Smithson is a certified small animal/equine acupuncturist, and especially loves soft tissue surgery, geriatric medicine, and working with pet owners to create a wellness plan for their animal companions. Her favorite thing about veterinary medicine is getting to know pets and their owners over the course of their lives, and working to protect the human-animal bond. When she’s not at work, Dr. Katie enjoys spending time with her husband and three kids. Her family also includes furry members: Mayzie the dog, cats Nelson and Cash, and usually a rescued opossum (Dr. Smithson is also a certified wildlife rehabilitator for the state of TN). Dr. Katie loves to experiment in the kitchen and usually has her nose in a book during her downtime.

The Greatest Act of Kindness

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We had been on vacation, the husband and I. It was January. We love snow. So, to Minnesota, we went. It was good to be away from work, the gaggle of dogs and cats we had accumulated (and loved with all of our beings), post-Christmas children and un-decorating, etc. It was just nice and quiet. 

The first day back at work came fast and furious. Surgeries, hospitalized cases, cases that had been ongoing when I left ten days earlier, appointments… Back to the everyday. A renal failure cat, an aggressive boxer vaccination appointment, an ACL repair. A beagle had been brought in the night before at close. The owners left to get a deposit to treat but never came back to sign papers to allow us to treat her. So, here she was, essentially a stray, but with someone who claimed ownership.  

This one was a mess. She was mauled by the much larger dogs that she was chained to a tree with. They all had their own dog houses, but they were fed together. She had been attacked a week prior. She pulled herself into the back of the dog house that she has grown up in and they just thought she would “pass on her own.” Every day they would go out to see if she had died. On the last day, Tuesday, they realized she was still alive, so they let her sleep inside that night. At the end of the day on Wednesday, they brought her in for us to treat. And abandoned her. 

She had penetrating abdominal wounds. She was laterally recumbent and in septic shock. A catheter was placed. IV antibiotics and fluids were initiated. Pain medications were given. Over the next few days she was medicated, wounds cleaned, rotated and warmed. She had fleas, in January, and was in heat.  

We were not a 24-hour facility. Our doc, the owner, went to the address that was given to us to look for the owner to get permission to keep her. You see, she was responsive but weak. She could make it with treatment, so he could not justify putting her down. But he needed permission to do SOMETHING. She had an owner. We needed permission to move forward. In the meantime, I would come in every morning and hope she had passed peacefully in her sleep. She suffered more than any animal I had seen to that point in my career. We could not euthanize, we could only triage for five days and then make that call.  

On Sunday I went with my husband to clean her wounds. She had not even attempted to eat. We brought leftovers, lunch meat and hotdogs. I prepped her cleaning supplies, got her meds together. Ultimately I was preparing myself for the awful, weak whimpers she would make when I cleaned her wounds. I went to get her out of her kennel and my husband was laying on the floor feeding her hotdogs. She was sternal and eating. It was unreal.  

Two days later, two weeks after she had been attacked, a young man came in and asked if a young beagle had been brought in deceased. His mom told him his dog was mauled and died and he wanted the truth. The truth was that she was not dead and was actually doing better than when she arrived. I took him back to see if it was her. It was. Other than the hotdogs, it was the happiest I had seen her. She sat up, wagged her tail. I asked what her name was. The woman who dropped her off told us she wasn’t sure, maybe “Baby.” He agreed. He thinks they call her “Baby Girl.” I asked where he intended to keep her because she could not go back to that tree. The tree where she almost died. She had open wounds. She needed reconstructive surgeries. At that moment, that very selfless moment, he realized that the best thing he could do for her was to give her up. To give her a better life. To give her a chance. She was truly loved by this kid. I believe she is still loved by him.  

The greatest act of kindness I have ever experienced, in 23 years, is for this young man to sign over the “Baby Girl” that we now call Weezie. And, 16 years later, we are still thankful.   

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tynette DeLonjay is a Registered Veterinary Technician in St. Louis, Mo. She has been in practice for 20+ years in small animal general practice with a brief stint in specialty neurology. She is thankful for every kindness over the years, but this one, this one is special.

I Still Love Veterinary Medicine and Here’s Why

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The charts keep piling up, the ever ringing phone is a reminder of more patients to help than available hands. Technicians bump shoulders as they quickly pass by in the hallway, rushing to the lab. The vibe inside the clinic spins along with the centrifuge, tossing those out who don’t sync in balance with the others. Exam rooms and surgery suites are dressed up each day to treat uniquely different patients, but all with the same underlying constants.

Beep, beep, beep the sound of the ECG leads gripped tightly to the patient’s skin. You can hear the humming begin, as the pump kicks on and the blood pressure cuff tightens securely around a furry leg. A trying alarm sounds, as you try adjusting the spo2 clamp for the third time, although the consistency of inaccuracy brings smirks and a laugh amongst tired staff.    This is a typical day in the back of the clinic, yet we still love veterinary medicine and here’s why.

We work in a field of measurable results and emotional connection. 

A patient comes in with a limp, we X-ray and diagnose. A patient comes in with a cough, we listen and prescribe. We work in a climate that requires puzzle-solving, as we link symptoms to lab work results and microscopic findings to samples. This, while constantly challenging ourselves to do more and be more. The eight-year-old Schnauzer who tries to bite you during every nail trim is the same one you comfort during his painful pancreatitis diagnosis. Our patient connection drives us into an unexitable roundabout of URIs And UTIs. Each patient matters the same as the last one, and as much as the next one.   

Veterinary medicine combines the two worlds of science and emotion. 

Science is dependable, consistent and measurable. Emotion is undependable, inconsistent and not measurable. This sounds like a bunch of fecal sample, right? Well, stay with me here. This could be the very reason why we stay in this stressful environment. 

Medical science is at the very core of what we do day in and day out. We can always depend on the fact that our patients will get sick. We can always depend on the fact that certain diseases present with a set of common symptoms. What we can’t count on is how the crying widow tugs at our heartstrings, as she says she can’t lose the Dachshund or deciding to sit an extra minute by the whimpering English Setter who just woke up from a spay. We can master our skills as veterinarians and technicians, but the emotion is what makes us human. 

Emotion in the clinic can lead to late hours in aged, dusty textbooks and varied VIN searches. We are driven to find the results for our patients because of our compassion and sometimes a little bit of our ego. It is always science that saves us though. Those who have forged down this road before us with groundbreaking treatments and who have created life-saving medications are our guiding lights. Our job is to bring all the pieces of the puzzle together and make them fit the mold of each patient. It is a pleasure and a privilege when all cogs click together and a treatment plan is formed.

We still love veterinary medicine because it allows us to be superheroes for our clients and satisfies our individual desire to conquer. 

We still love veterinary medicine because every day we walk through those doors, we can change someone’s life. 

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tasha Larsen is the technician manager at a small animal clinic in Utah. She joined the veterinary world after selling her Crossfit gym to pursue her passion in veterinary medicine. It was the best decision she ever made and she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

If You Need to Leave, It’s Okay

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The average vet tech’s career is 7-10 years. Did you know that? I did. And after 5 years in veterinary medicine, I thought I almost made it. That statistic won’t get me. Here I am. I have arrived. But it’s funny how quickly things can change.

When I became pregnant, I thought how serendipitous my situation was. I worked long but varying days as a vet tech and my husband was home during the day, working evenings and weekends as a musician. This is perfect! He’ll be home with the baby in the daytime while I’m at work, and I’ll just make sure I’m home before he has to leave. Things were falling into place perfectly; life was putting a path in front of us and we knew exactly what to do.

Then I went into labor, had a cesarean section under general anesthesia, and woke up to the most beautiful human I have ever seen lying on my chest. It’s amazing how quickly things can change. When you’re pregnant everyone tells you, “just you wait, everything is different after you have kids,” but they never tell you how. Maybe it’s something different for everyone. For me, this tiny little boy, yawning under a knitted hat, needed me more than anything in this world and I could not leave him.

Postpartum was hard for me. I had complications that made me closely examine my life in a way I’d rather not have. I spent weeks grappling with the decision: If I leave, am I giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for? If I stay, am I giving up precious time with my baby? My identity had largely become based around what I did for a living and if I wasn’t vet teching, wasn’t even working… then who was I? Ultimately my husband got a day job and I resigned. I felt horrible, like I was abandoning everyone I worked with, and after everything they’d done for me. I felt selfish. But guess what? They understood. And guess what else? Life went on without me and the whole hospital didn’t fall apart. 

My son is 8 months old now, I love being a stay at home mom, and my former bosses and coworkers are still doing just fine. Maybe that should be a bruise to the ego, but it’s a relief. I am not so important that the entire system will fall apart without me. Others will not crumble in my absence. This relieves me of the guilt that I felt for doing something that was really important to myself and my family. 

I know not everyone can do this. To be honest, I’m amazed that we have. If you have to work or want to work, there’s no judgment here. I felt strongly about something and I’m lucky that I was able to make it happen. But feeling strongly about it didn’t make it easy. I felt guilty, I questioned if I was doing the right thing. I questioned my whole identity.

If I’m being completely honest, I was feeling burnt out anyway, I just never let myself think about it until I actually thought about it. Then it was amazing how quickly things changed. Time and distance have refreshed my passion for veterinary medicine. I don’t know when I’m coming back or where I’m going, but I know I’m excited to see where I end up. I might feel very differently if I had never turned my whole life upside-down.

There’s no way to sugarcoat the fact that this is a hard career to maintain. My point is, only you know what’s right for you and you have to follow your own happiness. I’m not saying quit your job tomorrow, but if there’s something else you want to be doing then try to figure out a way to do it. If you’re not happy, start looking for something else. Change jobs, or change careers. Sure, things might be upside down for a while, but you would figure it out. You can always figure something out. No job is worth your happiness, your wellbeing, or your life. They will be fine without you, and you don’t owe anyone anything. If what you’re doing is swallowing you up, get out while you still can.

Because no matter how bad it seems, things can always change.

If you need to take a break it’s okay. If you need to leave, it’s okay.

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Candace is a graduate of the St. Petersburg College Veterinary Technology program and Certified Veterinary Technician in the Tampa Bay Area. In addition to being a CVT, she also holds a Bachelors degree in psychology from the University of South Florida – St. Petersburg. She shares a home with her husband, son and dog Sadie. In her spare time, she enjoys cooking, traveling and changing song lyrics to make the song about Sadie.


It’s Time to Redefine Myself – As a Mom and an RVT

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The time has come for me to return to my job as a registered veterinary technician (RVT). I have had one incredible year with my first child and can’t help but be completely grateful for this time with him and, if I’m being completely honest, the time with myself. 

Mastering New Goals

I am coming out of this maternity leave a completely different woman than I was just over 12 months ago. Is it just me or did any other mommas feel SUPERHUMAN after creating and giving birth to a child? The realization that I could get through anything my body or mind asked of me was the boost I needed to start pursuing more of my goals. 

I quickly dove into my first dream of becoming a vegetarian and not just eating like one on Meatless Mondays. Then I crushed my fitness goals with a combination workout of HIIT and weight lifting which was super motivating! 

The next dream would be the most challenging one yet and require me to test my faith as I had never tested it before. I honestly didn’t even recognize it as a dream until my friend “dragged” it out of me. We spent every Wednesday together with our babies who were born 10 days apart and one day we got talking about our careers and goals. My friend, being the go-getter she is, encouraged me to share any career aspirations I might have had. 

She managed to breathe life into this tiny spark of an idea I had lodged in the depths of my brain. I had never let myself sit with this idea or legitimize it in any way. However, once I had spoken of it out loud I could not put it to rest. It became absolutely imperative to start pursuing this goal. After all, my time on maternity leave was proving to me that I could do just about anything I set my mind to. 

It’s been less than 8 months since I committed to starting my own side hustle, as a Pawdoption Guide, and there’s no turning back! My mission is too important! I want to shout from the rooftops to #adoptdontshop and empower pet owners and future pet owners with knowledge and tools to cultivate amazing relationships with their pets. I will see to it that more people choose pet adoption because they feel supported and educated in their efforts to become pet owners. 

Getting Back in the Clinic

It’s no wonder I’m feeling a bit apprehensive in the last few days of my leave. What an amazing road I’ve had to get to where I am now. What an opportunity for reflection and self- development.

My anxieties seem to revolve around less time with my son (how that will impact myself and him) and how our family will handle the displaced housework and the morning/evening change in routine. Can I just say that it’s okay to FEEL! I am a rational person, I can reason out why I must return to the clinic but it doesn’t make it any less difficult. Just so you know, the best thing you can do when talking to a mom is just listen and let them feel their feelings. I know this transition is necessary and the time is right but it’s still stressful and I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be a cakewalk.

The role I am returning to as an RVT will also be a big transition. In order to have more stability and routine, I have taken on new responsibilities at the animal hospital. This decision was not made lightly. Previously my day to day revolved around surgery; admitting patients, prepping for, monitoring and aiding in the recovery of surgery. I will now be assisting veterinarians with appointment flow and spending much more time interacting with clients and their pets in the exam room. 

At first, when thinking about this, there were a lot of tears, I couldn’t control the emotion pouring out of me. How could I be an RVT and not do surgery? I had come to love surgery and that feeling I got from keeping our patients safe and comfortable. After I calmed down, I realized I had come to define myself by these skills. My self-worth was totally wrapped up in surgery. The ability to place catheters, monitor surgery, adjust anesthetic gas and fluid rates, even bond with the veterinarians in surgery – these things defined me as a tech. If I think less of myself without surgery, what would others think? Will I still be respected?

I had no clue that I was so attached to one aspect of my job. However, it took me very little time to decide that my family took priority and that I needed stability in my life right now. This is probably one of the most selfless choices I’ve ever made – giving up something I love for the people I love. But I’ve come to think of it like this; it is what you make of it! If I go into this new role kicking and screaming I have no doubt I’ll dislike it, but if I choose to give it my all, start honing new skills and become an expert in something completely different I could really grow. It’s time to redefine myself as an RVT. I am responsible for who I become and I am limited when I define myself by one thing. 

It’s almost impossible to prepare yourself for this transition. You just have to live it and feel it. Going back to work means less time with my son but it’s an opportunity for career growth. The growing pains are inevitable but it’s time. It’s time for my son to have more independence and it’s also time for me to relinquish some of my control and dependence on him. 

Moms everywhere are amazing for going through this crazy, emotional journey that is motherhood. We are warriors in all we do and all that we have done! I have never felt braver than I did following my son’s birth or now in my choice to go back to work. All I can say is that it’s time… 

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bethany is a Registered Veterinary Technician from Kitchener, ON Canada. She proudly serves as an RVT at a small animal practice for 6+ years now. Rescue pets are near and dear to her heart; heck, she’s got 3 of her own! She launched her very own side hustle Pawdoption Guide while on maternity leave, in order to connect families with the RESCUE pet of their dreams! Please join the #adoptdontshop movement and find out more at www.pawdoptionguide.com.