Jessica Vogelsang DVM

I am undyingly passionate about providing support for those in the field struggling in a toxic work environment. I run a Facebook group with the intent of being there for those in the field who need an outlet. I have spent the last two years of my life listening to people tell me about working for clinics who psychologically abuse their staff.

At times the clinic culture borders on sexual harassment or physical abuse. With every story I hear, part of my soul cries with earthquake intensity. I am done crying now, because tears don’t fix anything. Now I am angry. I don’t want these lost souls to give up. All I can think to myself is, “Goonies never say die.”

 

via GIPHY

Silly, I know. Stick with me. The phrase meant something at one point.  At what point did we lose our childlike personalities?  We were once young and excited. We looked at the world with fresh eyes and lived our lives with the most basic emotions: kindness and respect. I remember watching in awe as Mikey and his gang of social misfits went on a crusade bigger than them. They fought against those in authority who were set on the destruction of their families and their childhood.  They spoke up and acted. Why? Because it was the right thing to do.

I think a lot of us used to be like that before student loans, bills, car payments and life sucked that innocence right out of us. But we can change that. I am asking you to be the unwavering voice for the new technician hazed into paying her dues in the clinic. A technician who is criticized and publicly shamed by her colleagues to remind her of “her place.”

I am begging you to be a beacon of kindness to the recently graduated veterinarian, who needs help wading through the intense responsibility of their profession. For the receptionist dealing with clients who want to know why their pet’s flea medication costs so much as they chuck their debit card or a wad of crumpled bills on the counter. We need kindness in this world. No matter our education level, experience level, or salary we all deserve two things in this world: happiness and respect.

Happiness. We used to push for it more, then life just got busy. We kind of just went with the flow and let life happen. When the looming threat of being forced out of their childhood neighborhood became apparent, how did the gang from Astoria deal? They went on a last adventure together, following a weathered and tattered map in pursuit of One Eyed Willie’s treasure. They didn’t tuck their tails and spend their last hours watching MTV play music videos. (That used to be a thing on MTV. Music videos. True story.)

Being together made them happy so they spent their last hours together as a team, eluding the Fratellis and navigating booby traps. At times, they drove each other crazy but they still deeply cared about one another and their friendships. Sure, the quest for jewels, gold and wealth was the initial goal, but through it they learned that friendship and happiness are worth fighting for. It still is. So, keep fighting.

 

via GIPHY

We all deserve respect. I don’t care what position you hold in veterinary medicine; you deserve to be treated as a human being. Sometimes those who say they care about us the most are the ones who respect us the least. I think of Mamma Fratelli doting on her sons while she kept Sloth chained in the basement. She claimed a mother’s love while isolating, demeaning and disregarding him as a person.  All it took for Sloth to find his strength was one person to listen to him and treat him like a human.  That was Chunk, who had his own issues with being respected by his peers. Together they bonded and found the heroes they had always been. Everyone has their own struggles and pain. Respect them and maybe offer a helping hand or a listening ear. Through that we become true heroes. “You’re gonna live with me now. I am gonna take care of you.”

Join me in speaking up and out for those who are hurting. Bullying and abuse are often very visible. But people stay quiet. Bystanders believe it isn’t their business or maybe even not their place. We have a choice. We decide what we will and won’t tolerate in our lives. To a degree, we can mold the world around us. We can speak up and out and fight the good fight. For the downtrodden, for the wounded. For those who need us. We only get one chance in this world to make a difference. To follow that tattered map to our happiness and purpose. And so, I close with one of my favorite childhood quotes. “Down here it’s our time. It’s our time down here.”  We don’t get a do-over, folks. This is it. Make it a good life for yourself and for others.

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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!

In 10 years of working as a veterinary technician, I’ve helped care for thousands of patients. Each one is special, but I think most of my veterinary colleagues would agree that there are a handful of pets that stick in your memory forever.

 

One case in particular from 2008 comes to mind often; every time I hear a Sarah McLachlan song. Read on, and you’ll understand why.

 

Bentley was a big, boisterous 3-year-old Boxer/Lab mix with a larger-than-life personality. He was his owner’s first dog after moving out of her parent’s house, and she was thrilled to have found such a perfect companion at the animal shelter.

 

He was a handsome boy: tall, 75 pounds, with shiny, chestnut fur, and big, soulful brown eyes over a smiling black muzzle. Bentley danced and wagged his way through the exam room door, and if he got nervous, he’d wrap his neck around his owner’s in the most beautiful canine hug I’ve ever seen.

 

Just a few months after she adopted him, Bentley’s owner called the office. Something wasn’t right. Bentley didn’t want to eat, and seemed as if something had zapped every bit of energy from him.

 

Our normally energetic friend entered the exam room with a weak wag of his long, skinny tail, still trying to please us. Bentley was quiet for his examination, clearly not feeling like his usual self. In fact, he laid on the floor for most of the appointment. His mom sat next to him, looking desperately at us for answers.

 

Most of Bentley’s physical exam was normal, aside from one very important observation: his lymph nodes were enlarged. Not “he’s fighting an infection” large, but “this is going to be a difficult conversation” huge.

 

We took a sample of cells with a fine-needle aspirate and examined them under the microscope to confirm the diagnosis, though we all knew from experience that our guts were probably right:

 

Bentley, the young, perfect, hugging rescue dog, had lymphoma.

 

The vet went over options with his devastated owner. We have board-certified oncologists at the local specialty hospital, but as a college student, those expensive treatments weren’t an option. We understood, and decided we’d do whatever we could to keep Bentley happy and comfortable for as long as we could.

 

He did well for a couple months, with appetite stimulants and supportive care when he needed it. But the cancer was aggressive, and not even a year after adopting her companion, Bentley’s owner knew it was time to say goodbye.

 

 

My stomach lingered in my throat that morning, knowing his name was on the schedule for euthanasia. I adored that dog, and admired the special bond he had with the friendly young woman that gave him a loving home.

 

The decision for an owner to stay for a euthanasia procedure is personal. Sometimes it’s just too much for someone to handle emotionally, or there are feelings of guilt (albeit unfounded). Bentley’s mom couldn’t bring herself to be present, and she kissed the teardrops that had fallen on her big boy’s head before leaving him in our care. It was one of the hardest goodbyes I’ve ever witnessed.

 

A big, fluffy comforter was laid out in the treatment area, and two of us sat with Bentley, reassuring him that everything would be okay. He knew us, and was fond of us. We both got one of his special hugs. Choking back tears, I told Bentley what a good boy he was as the needle prepared to touch his skin. He didn’t flinch, and we both began sobbing uncontrollably when the treatment room radio broke the silence just as the solution entered Bentley’s vein:

 

“I will remember you; will you remember me? Don’t let your life pass you by; weep not for the memories…”

 

Sarah McLachlan’s angelic voice still brings me back to that treatment room floor, looking into the eyes of a wonderful dog, taken too early from those he touched. I’ll never forget Bentley and his adoptive mom that loved him so much. I like to think that he’s watching over her from above, waiting to wrap his big, brown muscular neck around hers in that special embrace when they meet again.

 

Know that your veterinary team truly cares for you and your pets. Your companions touch our lives in special ways, just as they do yours. Bentley will live on in my memory, as will many other patients that I’ve built connections with through years of care and puppy kisses. Rest in peace, sweet boy.

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About the Author

Stephanie Glenz has been a Certified Veterinary Technician in Pennsylvania since 2006. After 10 years of working on the front lines with dogs, cats, horses, birds, and pocket pets, she now serves as Communications Director for a family of three veterinary hospitals and a pet salon. Back in college, Stephanie will finish her Bachelor of Science in Communication from Colorado State University Global in October 2017.

There is a goat that lives on a farm that is thousands of acres. The goat’s purpose is to serve as a roping practice animal for a teenaged girl who does rodeo. When he is not doing that, which is not very often, he is housed in a horse stall, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

The stall has a concrete floor with no bedding. There is food and water. The goat is protected from the elements. He seems afraid of people when he is approached.

OK, let’s pause a moment. What do you think about this goat? Here is a picture of him to look at while you consider his living situation.

 

What do you think?

For me, this situation is heartbreaking and intolerable. I am so sad for this goat. I can’t stop thinking about him. I contemplate trying to rescue/steal him. I consider calling the authorities for goat cruelty. I don’t understand how someone can think that this is ok, how someone can drop goat food into his dish and not pause to look into his goat eyes and see sadness and fear.

I don’t understand how someone can rope him like a sawhorse and then put him away again like an inanimate object. I feel genuine rage that his caretakers are so lazy that they cannot make him a little pen on this massive farm so that he can run and jump and feel the grass, or that they can’t get another goat for him, so that he is not so unbearably lonely.

Obviously not everyone sees it this way. For example, the owners of this goat. The law also does not see it this way (yes, I checked, it’s rural north Florida, good luck with that). As long as an animal is provided with food, water, shelter from the elements and can stand up and turnaround and is not lying in its own urine and feces, there is not much legally that can be done to free this goat or punish his caretakers.

Is this willful ignorance or do the owners of this goat just have an inability to consider that this animal has needs beyond physical ones? Is this a true inability to empathize with animals? Does an inability to empathize with animals transcend how we perceive animals to an inability to empathize with other people too?

I think that there are three types of people when it comes to our relationships with animals:

 

1. Animal people: The animal people who read this will feel truly sad to read about this goat. They will want to do something to free him. They will see that keeping an animal in solitary confinement is cruel. They will look into this scared goat’s eyes and feel something. These people likely have pets or want pets and they have a deep sense that animals feel emotions similar to ours. They love animals and feel considerable joy in their company. I am one of these people and, as a veterinarian; I surround myself with animal people as my colleagues, clients and friends. Sometimes I forget about the other types of people.
2. Indifferent people: These are the people that will assess this goat’s lot on life and see what is good. The food, shelter and protection that his life offers him. They will not feel that anything is particularly sad about his situation. They don’t wish the goat any harm, but they can’t see that the goat is/may be suffering emotionally.
3. People who willfully hurt animals: These people are not a part of this goat’s story. These are the people that are willfully cruel to animals. The people that post pictures of themselves on social media doing hideous things to animals. This is worse than a lack of empathy or inability to see the emotional needs of animals, these people may see that animals have feelings and they choose to be cruel and even find pleasure in their cruelty.

 

It is nearly impossible for these three groups of people to connect with one another. They have such vastly different worldviews. It is impossible to bridge the divide between them. The next question is how did we turn out this way? Although I grew up in a household that loved animals, I don’t think I was taught to love them, it was always in me.

Are we pre-programmed for empathy, indifference or cruelty to animals? Does this influence how we treat people? Is this just the way your brain is wired? Think of champions for animals like Jane Goodall, Temple Grandin or Ricky Gervais. Were they made or born that way? It is really hard to explain to someone why this goat is not having all of his needs met if they don’t feel it intuitively.

Try to find the words that will make the indifferent animal caretaker or someone who hurts animals for fun see your point of view. And this is just one goat. There are thousands of animals that are chained outside or waiting for slaughter and living in pens, all for some utilitarian purpose. Some are provided with the bare minimum for survival, but nothing more. This breaks my heart.

The goat is like a Rorschach test for how you see animals. Some can not or will not see why this goat is a very sad goat indeed.

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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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.

Twitter: @drsarahboston |Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/drsarahbostonauthor

Buy the book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lucky-Dog-Being-Veterinarian-Saved-ebook/dp/B00IRJGZK0

Check out her publisher: http://houseofanansi.com/products/lucky-dog

I’m a fierce feminist. I stand for equal pay, more female CEOs, paid maternity leave, standing against rape culture and the objectification of women, and for women having autonomy over our own bodies. Being a feminist means all of these things and more. What it does not mean is that I can’t like girlie things.

I like wearing dresses and fun accessories, I’m a fan of the color pink, and I LOVE make-up. So lately, between finding new feminist bloggers to follow on Medium and trying to make a name for myself in the veterinary field, I’ve also spent a fair bit of time watching YouTube makeup tutorials. Mostly, these teach me how to do my makeup, but they’ve also taught me a few things about life and vet med too.

Here are the top four things I’ve learned about vet med from watching YouTube makeup tutorials:

1. A Solid Base is Key

When you think of makeup, you might think of colors—A pop of red on the lips, a little purple on your lids. It’s what stands out most, but without a good foundation and primer, it’ll fade before you even get to work in the morning.

Vet med is just like that. The doctor may seem like the star of the practice, just like that sexy, smoky eye is the star of your makeup, but without a solid support team behind them they might as well just be a pretty face. CSRs, techs, assistants and kennel staff all make it possible for a vet to do what they do best—diagnose and treat animals. Not only would us docs burn out in a hot second without all you awesome people; you do a lot of stuff way better than we ever could. Just ask my team what happens when I try to tape in a catheter or shave and prep a patient for surgery (or maybe don’t. It’s a little embarrassing).

2. Use the Right Tools

If you’re still using that weird, little plastic Q-tip thingy that comes with your eye shadow, it might be time to invest in a good set of brushes. That perfectly contoured cheek and flawlessly blended eye require a whole host of different brushes—each with a specific purpose. A few basic brushes will do for a lot of people, but if you want to get more advanced there are dozens of specialized instruments to help make your face glow.

Tools are important in vet med too. There are the obvious tools like your stethoscope, otoscope, laryngoscope—pretty much any type of “scope.” There are also some more advanced tools like dental rads and ultrasound machines if you want to offer your patients the very best right there in-house. But if you really want to take your practice to the next level, don’t dismiss the more often over-looked, not-so-medical tools that make you really stand out to your clients.

EMR offers you the ability to print easily readable discharge instructions in no time. A well-crafted web and social media presence helps attract the type of clients (and staff) that fit best in your practice. A well written blog can educate your clients and keep them away from Dr. Google.

Technology is more than just the latest gadgets and gizmos—it’s how we interact with people these days and it’s becoming an essential part of the client experience. Familiarize yourself with these new tools of the trade and your clinic will shine like your impeccably glossed lips.

3. Personalize Your Colors

First you prime your lids, then you set it. Take your crease brush and apply the transition shade with a mixture of circular motions and windshield wiper motions, etc, etc…  It’s all pretty formulaic. And yet you walk into Sephora and there are aisles upon aisles of choices. A single eyeshadow palette alone can contain more than a dozen shades.

There are dozens of red lipsticks, and dozens more in pink, berry, and coral. There are mattes, shimmers and straight-up sparkles. Even if we all put our makeup on the same way, we’ll never look exactly alike. That’s what’s so great about makeup; you make it your own and use it to express yourself.

You should imbue vet medicine with your own wealth of color and sparkle too. Maybe you’re like me and words are your jam, so you write some killer client handouts to help people understand their pet’s diagnosis.

Maybe you’re not like me and you have actual artistic ability so you explain things to your clients by drawing a frame-worthy piece of artwork showing Apoquel binding to and inhibiting a JAK-1 enzyme. Perhaps you’re great at connecting with people over last night’s baseball game or the local high school’s performance of West Side Story but maybe small talk makes your palms sweat and your heart race so you get down on your hands and knees and take the conversation directly to Fluffy. Whatever your strengths are, embrace them and let your true colors shine.

4. Loosen Your Grip

Are you having trouble getting that perfect blend? Maybe your colors are looking a little patchy. Take a look at how you’re holding your brush. You’re probably gripping it too high up. Why is this a problem?  Well, the tighter your hold on the brush, the more control you have.  “But isn’t control a good thing?” you ask. Not for blending. By giving up control, everything blends together much more smoothly.

Are you holding on too tightly at work too? It’s easy to want to control everything, especially in vet med where there’s so much we can’t control. But you need to trust your colleagues.

Say it’s your day off. Do you check your patient’s blood results from home? Do you call constantly asking for updates and trying to dictate orders? Or do you let your associate who’s actually in the building with the patient assess him and fine tune the plan? When your technician reads an ear cytology slide, do you double check it, or do you trust their training and skills?

When you try to micromanage everything, people will think you don’t trust them.  This harbors resentment and fractures the team apart.  It keeps others from fulfilling their true potential.  The day does not blend seamlessly to the mechanizations of a well-oiled team when one person is trying to do it all. So loosen up and watch how much more smoothly things go.

There are lessons to be found everywhere, even in something as seemingly superficial as cosmetics.  With our careers, just like with our makeup, we strive to put our best face forward.

 

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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

In veterinary medicine, we are seeing more and more issues surrounding our quest for feeling fulfilled. We hear about unrealistic expectations, work/life balance, compassion fatigue, burn out and depression. These are all very real and tangible issues in the field. The issues all stem from a lack of feeling happiness and fulfillment in our lives. We are seeing a shift for the repeated need for instant gratification. These things used to come from building a dynamic with your team or praise from our clients.

Now we don’t have to work as hard for it.  Have questions about a case? Put it on the VIN message boards. We have drug calculation apps on our phones which sit nestled in our scrub pockets. We join online groups to talk about work when we aren’t even at work. Friends message us on our day off to ask why Fluffy doesn’t want to eat her breakfast this morning.  All these stimuli come with their own little ding or zap to get our attention and alert our brains that we are important and someone, somewhere is thinking of us.

In a profession where we have only so many hours in a day, using and participating in social media is a way to connect or feel connected almost immediately. We use it to plan our day, put lunch money on our child’s school account, schedule our appointments, reconnect with old friends and network with our colleagues. By using it we feel efficient, productive and at times loved. Why do our devices, social media and the endless access to information control us so?  Well for starters, it’s easy. Most of us have one if not two devices that channel us into a world outside of our own. We are busy professionals and it’s become far easier to send off an email, text or generate a memo than it is to sit down and have a conversation with another human being.  Especially when we have been talking to clients or coworkers all day.

Often after a busy day in the clinic, I retreat to my desk to get some quiet and not have to speak to someone for a little bit. Instead of listening to the silence or watching the sunset, my phone is in my hand. I am still bombarding myself with stimuli. I tell myself I am catching up on current events. Then I read the comments on a news article and leave feeling possibly more drained then when I started. Sometimes having endless information at your fingertips, doesn’t  allow us to decompress. A word to the wise, never read the comments folks. After a rough day, a comment thread on even the most insightful story can be a direct portal to hell or at least make you consider checking into a mental facility.

Why do we feel so drained with the world in our hands? Let’s talk about dopamine! Because science, right?! As those involved in the medical profession, many of us heard stories about rats who would intentionally get zapped to revel in the glow of dopamine release. Humans aren’t so different from rats, some so similar, they prompt my retreat to my deck….. I digress. Humans have the same basic urge to find pleasure and ride the dopamine wave. In these modern times with a barrage of notifications, texts, emails and friend requests we create a heightened release of dopamine. Dopamine triggers the reward system in our brain which then causes us to repeat these behaviors to continue to seek happiness and pleasure.

Instant gratification for a profession that is busy, fast paced, to the point and needs answers now. Excessive social media use can create excess release of dopamine which can result in a reduction of dopamine transporters in the brain. Meaning the constant feel good we are seeking rewires our brain to be less happy. We are in a constant mode of seeking. Looking to feel good and validated.

The problem with living in an age of instant gratification is that we can end up stuck in a perpetual loop of searching.  We lose our patience and often find investing time in achieving a goal, finding our place at the right job or in life, even connecting with clients or coworkers to be an inconvenience.  Gratitude just doesn’t mean as much as it used to. Good things come to those who wait. Well damn it, I want it now.  The social media age has solidified that thought in many of us. Our constant quest is exhausting.

Our value isn’t measured in likes, notifications or viral tweets. It is measured on investing the time to find what makes us happy in this world. On connecting with real people. On taking joy out of a job well done and not for the instant gratification. Doing it because it is in your blood and it is your passion. Turn off your phone. Get out there and make your own happiness. The kind you can’t find on the interwebs. The kind that comes from listening to the silence and really seeing all the colors in the sunset. The kind that results from building genuine connections and investing the time in seeing those connections evolve and flourish.

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!