Jessica Vogelsang DVM

The professional crush is a wonderful thing. I sometimes call it the academic crush because academia is where I live, but really it is any platonic crush that occurs in a mentee-mentor relationship where the mentee is looking up to (and crushing on) their mentor. A similar crush phenomenon is the crush that pretty much everyone has on Dr. Andy Roark (Ed Note: Can confirm- JV). I am going to call that a DrAndyRoarKrush. (#ILoveAndy) However, for the purpose of this blog, I am going to call all of this crushiness the professional crush.

First of all, the professional crush is platonic. It has to be platonic. However, it can also be confusing. I can remember the feeling as a vet student. I thought some of my professors were the coolest people in the world. I wanted to be them. Wait, was I feeling more than simple admiration? Of course not, it was just intense reverence, but I was young and I didn’t know what all of these feels meant.

I had a professor who used to make me blush every time he walked past because I was so enamored with him. The low power mentee in this situation may not realize that this crush is platonic because they have never felt these feelings before. They may think that their academic crush is actually a roma

ntic crush and that they are just star-crossed lovers who met their mentor at the wrong place and wrong time and against all odds their love will prevail. They are wrong. The mentor, as the older, wiser and more powerful person in the relationship, needs to be the one to recognize the professional crush for what it is.

 

I am very distraught by perversion of the professional crush. As a mentor, you nurture the professional crush, you don’t have sex with it. That is so Monica/Clinton, circa 1998. I am sorry to bring up Monica, as I am sure we are going to hear all about it soon in the upcoming election campaign ad nauseum, but it is the best example of the professional crush/misogyny gone awry that I can think of and, no matter what anyone says, I will always be team Monica (#TeamMonica).

 

Monica was an intern who worked for the most powerful man in the world. Bill should have known better. He could have nurtured her professional crush and instead he literally crushed her career- and, to some degree, his own. Veterinary faculty members and practice owners are not the President of the United States, but they have power. I have students that I know have an academic crush on me. Yes, I am married and they are mostly women, but that is not the point because, as I said, the academic crush is platonic.

 

The perversion of the professional crush inevitably reeks of misogyny. Older men, dating younger women, and almost never the other way around. Part of me wants to sit these beautiful young girls down and smack their veterinary goggles right off their pretty, innocent, wrinkle-free faces.

 

Definition: n. Veterinary Goggles (vet(ə)rəˌnerē skōōl gŏg’əls) 1. Figurative term to characterize state of sexual deprivation within veterinary profession that causes the female-dominated population to behave like cats in heat when a minimally acceptable male appears.

 

And on the other side of this are my male friends and colleagues, who are dating women who could be their daughters, who then have the audacity to tell me that their girlfriend is “really immature” sometimes. It is redundant to say that a 25-year old is immature.

 

You would think that somehow veterinarians are immune to this old dude-young girl creepiness because we are just a bunch of really nice people caring for cute animals, but we are not exempt. In fact, I would argue that veterinary medicine is in the middle of a perfect storm of misogynistic grossness right now. The face of our profession is changing. In the past, it was male-dominated. And now it is an endless parade of young female vet students, vet technicians and veterinarians, and the ratio of old dudes with power, experience, and/or money to young, beautiful, sometimes naïve women is astonishing.

 

Add in the power differential, science geeks, and people without a lot of life outside of their work/school and you have a recipe for rampant ickiness. So, to the gorgeous young women out there, you are gorgeous young women! Don’t give your power away. And to all the mentors male and female, please, treat the professional crush with the respect that it deserves. Whole careers were built on strong mentorship and nurturing the aspirations of our brightest apprentices who are crushing on us big 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.

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sarah Boston is a veterinary surgical oncologist and public speaker. Sarah is also a cancer survivor and author of the best-selling, hilarious memoir, Lucky Dog: How Being a Veterinarian Saved my Life. Follow her on Twitter or find her on Facebook.

We have a lot of frustration these days. A lot of negativity. It’s understandable; we work in a stressful environment, and finding ways to vent or express ourselves is a healthy part of coping. On the other hand, there is much to be said for seeking out the positive and the good in everyone around us, and boy could we use some of that in this world! We here at the DrAndyRoark.com website are happy to introduce a new feature this week, Humans of the Clinic. Our goal is to feature a person you know through your work who inspires you in any way great or small; it can be anyone- a co-worker, a client, a teacher, a mentor, an employee, some guy you see out in the parking lot. Today, our Editorial Director is kicking off the column with one of her favorite people she’s ever worked with, Ramona.

When I first began at this clinic, I was introduced to Ramona as our lab technician. “Give her all your blood samples and your labwork,” my boss said. “She’s great.” Less directly stated but heavily implied was, don’t put her in a room with clients.

It wasn’t that Ramona was bad with clients- or with pets, for that matter- but she didn’t put a whole lot of stock in being, shall we say, diplomatic. If a dog was fat, she told the owner the dog was fat. If a cat had dirty ears, she’d say that too. She was direct, let’s put it that way. Rather than try and mitigate her straightforward approach, our boss just assigned her to treatment area duties and everyone was happy.

I also learned very quickly that Ramona was a cat lady, through and through. She was the first person to teach me about fear-free practice back when that descriptor didn’t even exist. Every morning, when the surgery patients were dropped off for the day, she would hover up and down the row of cages, moving this cat to the left, away from the barking terrier, then hang towels over the front of the cages. She dragged boxes out of recycling to make hiding spaces for the more fearful felines. Often, I’d see her sprinkling catnip inside cages or rubbing Feliway in a cat’s blanket.

Ramona was the first person we’d call over if we needed a blood draw on a fractious cat. Back when everyone was still using the “scruff and stretch” approach as our first line approach, she was the master of low-stress handling. She burritoed, she wrapped in blankets, she tapped noses, she covered faces. She did all of the things we now know we should be doing but no one ever did back then. She was sometimes met with exasperated sighs but, being the blunt and direct person she was, she told us to just deal because this was what the cat needed. She was right, too.

When we had a cat with a chronic illness, Ramona was our go-to for client education, an area in which she excelled. She would patiently explain to nervous owners how to give an insulin injection, or how to manage the environment when a cat was urinating outside the litterbox. In all the time I worked with her, I never once had to have a declaw discussion with a cat owner because she talked them all out of it before I had to say a word. She had a collection of about seven cats in her house with various neuroses and afflictions, all cats that she rescued from euthanasia when an owner couldn’t deal with their problems. She and her husband had an amazing supply of patience and willingness to build ramps, manage multiple diets, and show love to those who had been discarded.

I learned so much from Ramona about cats. She was one of the most intuitive handlers I have ever known. Even more than that, I learned from her how important it was to approach our work from our patient’s point of view, what was comfortable and convenient for them, instead of what was easiest for us. She reminded me every day of how important it is to respect the dignity of our patients, who are stressed, sick, and scared, and how to stand up for what you know is right even when everyone else thinks it’s over the top. And now, patient-centered medicine is quickly gaining momentum as the future of the profession.

Ramona was the best cat lady I’ve ever known, and I mean that as the best sort of compliment. Although I’ve moved on from that clinic, I know she is still there improving the lives of many, many pets. I hope she knows how much I learned from her. Would that we could all be so comfortable owning who we are and what gifts we bring to the world.

Help us get the word out about all the amazing people in our world! Do you have a person you want to recognize for having an impact? Send us a photo and their story at editor@drandyroark.com with “HOTC Submission” in the subject line.

 

I just love the puzzle of anesthesia and pain management. I love creating an anesthetic and analgesic plan for a patient based on their specific pain management goals and coexisting disease processes. But above everything else, I love talking with other veterinary professionals about anesthesia and pain management.

When I created the Veterinary Anesthesia Nerds group on Facebook it was purely for selfish reasons. I simply wanted to geek out with others on veterinary anesthesia topics. I wanted to learn new things and grow as a technician to benefit my patients. What started out with myself and 15 friends has grown to a community with over 8,900 members from across the globe. How awesome is that?

Well, it gets even more awesome! About a year ago I met Dr. Andi Looney , DVM, DAVCAA and she just got me. She understands how important anesthesia and pain management education is to veterinary team members. Then we joked about having our own “Anesthesia Nerds” conference where it’s nothing but anesthesia topics all day every day. That dream led to a conversation, which lead to planning, and organizing, and with some help from VetBloom online veterinary education we are actually having our Anesthesia Nerds Symposium in Chicago in October of this year!

Right about now the theme from Flashdance should be playing…”Take your passion and make it happen!”

And, because I’m incredibly passionate about dexmedetomidine (best drug ever BTW) I got it tattooed on my arm. Then through the magic of the interweb and a You Tube video professing my love for DexDomitor:

 

 

I got invited to Espoo, Finland where they manufacture DexDomitor! It was fantastic! I got the inside scoop on Sileo before it was even approved in the States. I had a rare behind the scenes tour of the manufacturing facility. I was even invited to speak about how I use dexmedetomidine in practice at the international sales meeting. I had started by giving talks to a handful of technicians in our break room upstairs at the clinic, and here I was now discussing dexmedetomidine with veterinarians from Poland and Denmark!

So kids, take home message is this: Veterinary medicine is amazing, and we are doing great things. You may not make any money, but you may create something even better.

And if you’re an anesthesia nerd and want to geek out with me in Chicago this fall,  I hope to see you at the Anesthesia Symposium!

 

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.

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Tasha is a Certified Veterinary Technician form Glenside, PA. She is also a certified Veterinary Pain Practitioner and works closely with the IVAPM to educate the public about animal pain awareness. Tasha loves to lecture on various anesthesia and pain management topics around the globe. In her spare time Tasha enjoys reading, spending time with her son, and trying to figure out “what kind of game is Petyr Baelish playing anyway”.

 

Being new to the veterinary field is unnerving. Whether you’re a new doctor, licensed technician, assistant, or receptionist the pressure is intense and there is so much to learn and to take in.  No matter how good your grades were, there are some things that can only be learned through experience. Learning through experience means your will make mistakes. A lot of them.

 

When I first entered the vet world, I was an assistant with no experience. Zero. I started off pursuing the field because I loved animals. They are the purest of creatures and will never hurt you the way people can. One of the realities of being new to vet med is, well, you’re going to get a lot of crap. The 120 pound angry Rottweiler will be the least of your worries. The fact is, there are people in the field who are going to hurt you.

 

When you start out it is very likely that your first introduction to the hospital will be grunt work. You will do all the jobs that the more experienced team members don’t want to do. You will see the clients that no one else wants to see and will work the worst shifts. You will occupy your time with busy work. It isn’t very rewarding, but it gets your foot in the door and if you have the courage to stick with it, you can survive this field.

 

When I was new, one of my least favorite jobs was cleaning cold storage after the cremation service picked up the animals inside the area. I would climb in and hope that no trauma cases had come in. I remember scrubbing the walls with warm soapy water, wondering if I should just throw in the towel. I will never forget that smell.  It reminds me of how much I had to prove to drag myself up and out of that freezer.

 

There are people that will doubt you and some may even take pleasure in your mistakes.  There are people who will enjoy razzing the new kid about their lack of experience.  You may be called a “newbie” or “green”. To be honest, that may be the kindest version used to describe you. There will be eye rolling if you don’t have the “right” answer or do the “right” thing.

 

These people are, simply put, dicks. They take joy in making people feel small and trying to crush the dreams of the bright eyed.  Once you’ve proven yourself or learned to fit in, they will probably leave you alone until the next person comes along and the cycle continues. Don’t get me wrong, there are many people who are supportive in the field, but the ones who broke us down will always be more memorable than the ones who didn’t.

 

To put it bluntly, this is an age-old form of hazing which is predominant in veterinary medicine and, truly, many other fields. People have accepted it for decades and gone through their rites of passage. Only the strong survive. When they do, they will most likely continue this behavior.

 

So I say to all of you, WAKE UP! Stop this behavior! In the time of burnout, compassion fatigue and losing some of our greatest mentors to suicide, BREAK THE CYCLE! Show support and guide our new colleagues.  Teach them and watch them flourish.  We will never know the talent we have lost due to this abuse. We don’t have to put others down to show we are strong. As individuals we will remain divided, but together we can create a new culture. We can create a culture that brings kindness, growth and change. Medicine evolves daily. Maybe as practitioners, we should evolve too.

 

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.

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About the Author

Jade is a licensed technician of 9 years who lives in Port Orchard, Washington. She enjoys emergency and critical cases, dentistry and creating a bond with her clients and team. During her off time she is busy keeping up with her two crazy Basenjis!

Six months ago an adorable French Bulldog puppy named Murphy came to see me to be neutered. He jumped excitedly, licking my face and wagging his entire body along with his cork-screw tail.  He was like most puppies; full of joie de vivre, excited by everything he saw and everyone he met.  There was one thing about him that was different though—the loud snort that accompanied every breath he took.  You see, he was born with a condition known as stenotic nares, a severe narrowing of his nostrils that makes it hard to breathe.

 

I can relate.

 

I love being a veterinarian.  I love being slobbered on by cute little puppies in for their first exam, the puzzle of piecing together a difficult diagnosis, and even the honor of being able to help comfort a heartbroken client.

 

But most days, even while I am loving my job, I am weighed down by the everyday stresses that accompany it.  The joy of those puppy kisses are tempered by the annoyance of having to explain why your breeder is wrong about the leptospirosis vaccine.  The satisfaction of figuring out what’s ailing Bella is muted by having to tell you what it’s going to cost to treat it.  The gratification of performing a life-saving procedure is muffled by the voices complaining about how behind I was running because of it.

 

To be honest, somedays it feels like I can barely breathe under the weight of it all—like it’s hard to get enough oxygen to sustain my passion for veterinary medicine.  It is easy in those moments to forget what I’m doing it all for.  There are many days where it’s hard to remember that I’m making a difference.

 

Six months ago I neutered Murphy. During his neuter I was also able to surgically enlarge his nostrils. As Murphy was sleeping off his anesthetic he snored away, and when I re-evaluated him the next day he still snorted with every breath. I was convinced that my efforts hadn’t helped. I thought I had failed and Murphy would continue to be forced to experience his love of life through the veil of constant hypoxia.

 

Last week, Murphy came back for his regular check-up. Like last time, he jumped excitedly, licking my face and wagging his entire body along with his cork-screw tail, only this time the only sounds of his breathing were excited panting. In the weeks after surgery the swelling in his nose had gone down; he had improved tremendously and other than an occasional snore he was doing great.

 

Murphy was breathing easy thanks to me, but it turns out, he was the breath of fresh air I needed.  He reminded me that what I do really does make a difference and he taught me that even when life feels suffocating, there is joy to be had.

 

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.

 

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About the Author

Dr. Lauren Smith graduated in 2008 from Ross University School of Veterinary Medicine and completed her clinical year at Cornell University. Her professional interests include internal medicine, preventative medicine and client education. Dr. Smith lives and practices on Long Island with her cat, Charlie and dog, Frankie and loves to read write and run in her free time.  You can check out more of her writing at laurensmithdvm.com