DrAndyRoark.com

Articles, Videos, & Training on Pets & Veterinary Medicine

Jade Velasquez, LVT

“Choose Your Own Story”

by

Maybe this will age me. That’s OK. As an aging Gen X’er, I am reminded often of the “Choose Your Own Story” books. For those who don’t remember, with these stories, every choice the reader made, they were instructed to skip to a section in the book that either gave you another choice or you had to read what fate your choices had sealed.  

I remember often being unhappy with my end result and flipping the pages back to try and find the ending that was least traumatic. Often it was the ending I felt my character deserved. Although these books may bring nostalgia to some, my thoughts often go back to them whenever I am faced with a difficult choice. I can definitely say that I’ve made several wrong choices in life and in my career. Those choices often felt so permanent. But ultimately I always had the power to reflect and decide if this was the story I felt that I deserved.

As I began my journey as a kennel assistant, more moons ago then I would like to admit, I realized all my choices pushed me closer to the chapter I felt was next. As an assistant, I remember stumbling when I had to decide if I wanted to be a licensed veterinary technician. It meant making choices to work hard, study my butt off and put substantial effort into doing what I felt made the most impact when working with my patients. What made the most impact towards having a career that I wanted. No one else got to choose my journey. It was mine. There were times I failed and times I struggled. But every thought, every small expenditure of energy brought me closer to what I believed was MY story. 

As an LVT, I realized those choices didn’t stop. Every action I took either brought me to a place where I could give up and accept this as my story. Or I could keep flipping back the pages to see if there was another choice. When I was toxic, I could read back to see what I could do differently.  When I found myself in clinics that didn’t appreciate me, I chose to focus my energy on changing my path. Sometimes it meant making tough decisions and stepping away from comfort to take a plunge into the unknown. 

As a practice manager, my job is to encourage others to choose their story. To give them the options to decide what this path of veterinary medicine means to them. I cannot write their story. Perhaps their time at my clinic is just the beginning. Maybe it’s not where they see their vet med story ending. My goal is to give my team the tools, resources and freedom to make their way through the pages. My story hasn’t ended, but it’s shown me that the greatest thing someone can do is encourage others to find their best ending. 

So often we are caught up in our bubble of our current clinic, our coworkers, our friends and family that we forget we have those choices and can make choices for our happiness at any time. We choose what we love about this profession. We choose where we work. We choose who surrounds us and what we give energy. Now is the time to remember that we can always choose our happiness. Remember vet med is your story. You create your journey. Not your coworkers. Not your manager. But you. 

If you find yourself questioning your happiness, flip back through the chapters. Yell “Plot twist” when things go wrong. Don’t allow villains to shape your future. Above all, never give up and never stop looking for the ending you deserve. 

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.

The 4 Most Important Lessons I’ve Learned From Being a Manager

by

As a technician, I was always the go-to person. I was the one to problem solve, answer questions, place the difficult IV catheter or listen and guide my coworkers. I felt the need to point my veterinary career towards leadership and 2 years ago I made the jump and became a practice manager. I was excited to become a leader of an amazing team and hoped to bring my energy and skills to help the growth of my teammates and clinic. I jumped in with starry eyes and a vision to foster a workplace that was one that cared about the people who worked in it. In the past couple of years, I’ve learned so many things, but I wanted to share a few of my biggest lessons.

1. Management Can Be Lonely

As a tech, I always had a good rapport with my coworkers. I could crack jokes, be a shoulder to cry on or be a listening ear. As a manager, I am still all these things but at the end of the day I will always be “the boss.” The toughest part for me was that people will now act differently when I walk in the room. I immensely care about everyone I work with, but with the title comes the responsibility to sometimes make decisions people don’t like, address the elephant in the room or look at ways we can improve. I’m friendly with my team and promised I would never be a stuffy, unapproachable manager. I’m friendly with my team, but I also must remember that they will always look at me differently than when I was a technician.

2. I Can’t Change People, but I Can Guide Them

None of us in vet med or life, in general, are perfect. We will all make mistakes. How we deal with these mistakes define us. My biggest hope is that my teammates feel comfortable enough with me to own up to their mistakes. Instead of shaming or making them feel bad, I really want to be there to work through hiccups and pitfalls with them. Sometimes that means showing them the big picture and how every action we have effects our patient care, client care and the success of our business. Conversations are the start of dealing with any issue whether it’s medical, communication or behavior related. While I will do my best to guide, at the end of the day we all have the responsibility to choose how we respond to feedback. Any mistake or issue is never solved in a moment. Sometimes it means letting time pass for things to sink in and for people to process things. Rome was not built in a day. 

3. The Client Isn’t Always Right

If your team doesn’t feel supported, they will not support the business. As a technician, one of my biggest frustrations was dealing with abusive clients who could treat people badly. Sometimes they got away with it because they had been a long-time client. Other times it was simply because no one told them what they were doing wasn’t acceptable. We want to help your pet. But to do that, I need clients to be respectful of the hardworking crew who makes that happen. If a client is verbally abusive, threatening or lacks trust in those on my team they are not my target clientele. I will always believe that my team deserves respect and will fire clients who think they can treat anyone in my clinic in a way that is disrespectful. It’s terrifying because it usually results in me getting yelled at or cursed at. But it is the right thing to do. 

4. Listen to Your Team

Often managers believe that what they say goes. This is true to some degree. But the most important thing that I have learned is to listen to your team. Whether they are telling you a story about what they did on the weekend, a concern they have about a protocol or they are pouring their heart out in your office, listen. When your team doesn’t feel heard, they stop talking. Communication ceases and the clinic can only go downhill from there.  When my team talks to me, I know they trust me to listen to them. Sometimes not everyone wants an answer and it’s not my role to provide one for them. Sometimes people just want someone to listen. 

The transition to management from a technician has been one full of lessons, bumps and bruises. It has also been one that I have had the privilege of watching people grow, seeing my teammates become better at what they do and watch my clinic grow. I truly believe that what we sow is what will bloom. We must remember that as managers we not only grow a business, we have the opportunity to watch others blossom. 

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.

Compartmentalization: Does It Help or Hurt Vet Med?

by

I took a dry eraser and wiped the patient’s name off the whiteboard. I neatly filed their treatment sheet in their medical record. Moments before I heard the owners sobbing in the exam room down the hall. Hours before I had changed my patients bedding, pet them and kindly syringe-fed them. I knew they were bad off but now they were gone. I didn’t feel grief. In some way, I felt relief I wouldn’t see them suffer or struggle anymore. I just felt nothing. What had once been a life was now a black smudge on the treatment board. Another name would be written in their place. I finished my shift, got in my car and drove home and got my kid ready for bed. 

This is an example of one of the many times in my career I have had to compartmentalize. It’s quite common to put our thoughts in boxes and think maybe we can just deal with that another day. Another day when there isn’t a lobby full of clients and wards full of patients to take care of. A night when we can’t afford to come home in shambles because there is laundry and homework to be done. But that day doesn’t happen, and we keep experiencing patients names and traumas that we put in boxes and shove to the recesses of our minds. 

There are many reasons to rationalize compartmentalization. We can’t do our job and be there for the clients and pets we need to help when we are a puddle on the floor. We can’t be there for our family if we bring home the trauma and grief we see at work. There are some days we can’t do the job we need to do at work if we’re thinking of the argument that we had with our spouse the night before. Compartmentalization is our attempt to file our emotions, thoughts and rationalization of behavior into our minds. And it works. It allows us to survive some insanely crappy days in vet med. 

But does it keep working? The more we stow away our emotions are we really protecting ourselves and allowing ourselves to be present and functional? Or are we finding that month after month, year after year, our brain has now become an episode of “Hoarders?”  Compartmentalizing can be beneficial when done in moderation. Yes, we can shove that painful euthanasia or horrific HBC away and keep performing. But at some point, there is just too much and we are left with two options. We can emotionally shut down or we can be consumed by the overflow. 

In order to successfully compartmentalize we must realize that not everything can go in a box. We must allow ourselves to feel pain, discomfort, anger and all the other horrible emotions we try and shove away. We can’t feel them all the time. But we can acknowledge them and let them pass. Unpack some of the boxes and talk to family, friends or coworkers who can support you. Compartmentalization has saved me from many experiences that I’ve seen and been a part of. It has also kept me from expressing feelings that I’m supposed to feel. Just remember that in our attempts to preserve our sanity we can’t lose our emotions. Keep emotional connections going, be present and allow yourself to feel things. You can be stoic, but don’t lose your heart trying to preserve your brain.

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.


The Power of Positivity

by

For some reason no matter where I am in life, I have never felt good enough. It started early on in life and always overshadowed any success I had. I knew in high school that I would become a veterinary technician, so I worked toward that goal. When I got the letter (yes, I’m that old – they sent letters) I had passed my VTNE, I had two thoughts. I thought I should have worked harder and gotten a better grade. Then I wondered what do I do now? I’d achieved my goal, had the fleeting feeling of success but reminded myself I could do better.

This feeling carried on in my career. I moved from a general practice technician, to an emergency and specialty technician and back again. I worked myself to exhaustion and all the while thought I should know more for my patients, would be a better technician if I could master more skills or would prove how good I was by pushing myself harder. That feeling didn’t come and I just kept looking for the day I would feel that I had finally achieved the status of good enough.

I had veterinarians who made me feel less than by yelling at me or telling me I wasn’t good enough. Those vets only solidified the little voice nagging me in my head. The voice that – despite being able to place an IV catheter in a 2-pound kitten or running anesthesia on a thoracotomy surgery, I was still just OK – nothing great, nothing special. Then it happened. I had someone who I had never really met take notice of all the things I did to advocate for our profession. They saw all the ways I tried so that no technician would ever feel the way I did. Instead of just saying “good job” and moving on, this person did something I’d never experienced. They believed in me. They told me I was good at what I do and not just that, I was a good person. They invested their time into encouraging me.

A funny thing happened. When that someone placed their faith and energy into letting me know I was good enough, in fact, I was better than enough, I flourished. I started advocating more for support staff. I started using my shaky voice to make sure those people knew they were more than good enough. Not just that, but I found my footing and my own confidence. This supporter would call to check in and give me pep talks when I needed them. They would also call me out when I reverted to that nervous, confidence lacking technician. The power of just one person believing in me, showed me the true power of leadership and friendship.

Thank you, Andy Roark. For believing in veterinary medicine, the entire veterinary team, positivity and change. Most of all thank you for believing in me. I want everyone to know the positive place the DAR team has created for those in the field. No matter what our role in veterinary medicine, we all can believe in someone. Believing in someone may change their world, may allow them to be better and create a cycle of positivity. If we want a positive profession, we must be the ones to change it. Thank you to all those who believe, encourage and build up others. Change comes slowly but we can do this.

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 Letter to the Moms of Veterinary Medicine

by

As a mother in veterinary medicine, I can tell you one thing, it hasn’t been easy. I am a divorced mother who has been co-parenting with my ex since my son was three years old. I have busted my butt as a technician to be able to provide us a place to live, rent and the necessities. There have been times when I had to do CPR on a patient and then rush off to a school assembly. Switching gears from a tech to a mom is tough. I’ve also missed several plays, awards ceremonies and sports events due to my work schedule. The guilt that comes with wondering if I am doing enough is insurmountable. But I want all mothers to know that they are not alone. We are all doing the best we can. Our children see this.

Mother’s Day is a day to realize that we are pretty fierce mothers. We spend our time nurturing caring and pouring ourselves into our children. Even if you don’t have children, having the heart of a nurturer is a beautiful thing. Whether your kids have two legs or four legs and fur, the love you put into taking care of something is motherly. All of us in this profession pour our hearts and souls into our line of work. Not only do we pour our hearts into our patients and clients, but we also go home and give our all to our children, pets and families. Sometimes it can feel like everything we are giving isn’t enough. I promise you it is.

There were days I came home hours late from my shift with just enough time to make my kid dinner, bathe him and get him ready for bed and feed the animals. It was difficult feeling I may have missed out on moments that I wouldn’t be able to recapture. But when I would come home, I would be greeted by wagging tails from my pets and a child who was just as excited to see me. My son would ask if the pet I was taking care of was ok. Sometimes they were, sometimes they weren’t. But it opened conversations about life, death and all the things in between. He would attentively listen as we would snuggle on the couch with our dogs.

I write this to remind you all of what amazingly resilient and tough momma’s we are. I want you to know that your children and your families remember the time you spend with them. They remember the love and care you give them. Your pets are always forgiving and ready to meet you with a purr or a tail wag. This is unconditional love – when no matter the circumstances love prevails over everything. No matter what games you missed or how long your pets were waiting for dinner, they are just happy to see you. A mother’s love is always unconditional. We have the gift of passing this on to our children, families, pets and even our patients.

Do not fear you aren’t ever doing enough. Know you are doing the best you can and that is enough. Don’t focus on your mistakes or times missed but be present for the time you are there. Never forget being a mother isn’t an easy task, but you give it your all every day. Today we celebrate a mother’s heart, whether it be for her children or her pets. Thank you for everything you do. I see you. You’ve got this.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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.

How Eavesdropping Totally Restored My Faith in Humanity

by

We as veterinary professionals live in a very busy world. We have many things coming at us all at once and must be able to prioritize and juggle several tasks. The society we live in is very different than it was years ago. Society is very technology driven. We can connect to technology in many ways, it has been a blessing to veterinary medicine. Clients can schedule appointments online, have their prescriptions filled while they put in requests on their mobile devices and we can even email over lab results or send text reminders for appointments.

Technology can allow us to connect in so many ways, but it also can be an avenue to disconnect as well. The times of a face-to-face conversation is limited and waiting rooms are full of people checking their various social media apps, playing games or tuning out others around them while they wait to be called in for an appointment. Instead of interacting, people choose to tune out the world around them.

As a practice manager, my office is very close to the lobby. I can hear when clients are disgruntled and can eavesdrop on random chit chat amongst our clients. I also have the opportunity of hearing someone repeatedly tell their dog to sit for about 15 minutes straight. Spoiler alert, the dog never sits. Often people will chat about what breed their dog is or how their cat hasn’t been feeling well lately. But you would be surprised how quiet it can be sometimes in the lobby. People tuning into their mobile devices while completely ignoring the people around them.

Today, I learned that our ability to make connections with one another is still there. Our lobby contained a preteen boy who was engrossed in his phone while his mother was in an appointment with their pet. An elderly man checked in while waiting for his scheduled appointment time. From my office I could hear the boy ask the man what type of dog that was, as he had a dog like that, his family had to put to sleep a few months ago. The elderly man answered and then said, “That’s really tough to go through, isn’t it?” To which the boy replied it was.

The conversation could have been left there. Instead this boy and this man proceeded to share their stories of the pets they had lost. Not just sad stories, but funny ones, random ones. These two continued to talk about all kinds of things for the next 30 minutes. Here we had two completely different people, from two completely different generations and their love for their pets brought them together. My heart soared as I listened to them share stories and memories. They truly were getting to know one another. When it was time for the man to be seen, he said goodbye to the boy. The boy gave his thanks for talking to him.  I was truly sad the conversation had come to its end.

I am reminded of how hard it is to connect in this world, and I wonder if we all could have these beautiful stories, if we just stopped and connected with the people around us. If we just asked questions and were interested in the people who are in the same room. This scenario reminded me that there are still some things that can bring people together. Their love of their pets is universal. It can bridge gaps. I am a shy person, but I hope to remember these two and stop and look at the people around me. Ask them their story and tell them mine. By connecting with each other there is hope. And I hope some day I can be that light in someone’s day.

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.