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Articles, Videos, & Training on Pets & Veterinary Medicine

Kelsey Carpenter

I Like Big Guts and I Cannot Lie

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I heart science. It’s a huge part of why I’m in this field. I like that there are causes and effects and rules and explanations. I’m a total fangirl when it comes to evidence-based medicine and I geek out over a good math equation. I have also developed a passion for emergency medicine and triage. It’s like a big puzzle, and if I collect all the vitals and information I need and if I ask all the right questions, I can put it together to form a picture that can explain it all.

I am not a touchy-feely or emotional person. I like rules and structure and logic. So it should come as no surprise that one of the most difficult lessons I had to learn in Veterinary Medicine was how to listen to my gut.

We were in the early evening hours of a Saturday shift when a woman brought her dog in for an “emergency” check-up. (In other words, she just hadn’t taken the time to schedule an appointment, and had enough money that she wasn’t worried about the emergency fee.) The ER was swamped – it was summer, and right around the time when everyone was getting home from the beach or the barbecue and finding that their dog had eaten something it shouldn’t have. It was warm and beautiful outside, and I was stuck only halfway through my 12-hour shift, freezing my butt off in the hospital air conditioning.

“Can someone go triage this dog and send it home,” my coworker hollers. Patience was running thin, and the last thing we needed was yet ANOTHER person using our ER for their walk-in annual exams. “I’m on it,” I reply.

I guide the woman and her dog – a 10-year-old MN Pointer – into an exam room. The woman tells me the dog has slowed down a bit. “How long has this been going on for?” I ask. “Oh, the past year or so, I’d say,” she replies. “I think he has arthritis.” I ask some stock questions while I assess the dog’s vitals. Heart rate, respiratory rate, respiratory effort, mucous membranes, capillary refill time, temperature, and femoral pulses are all within normal limits. Weight is stable. The owner reports no vomiting, diarrhea, acute lethargy, or changes in appetite, water intake, energy, or behavior. All I can get out of her is that he’s “slowing down”.

In my head, I think “You waited a year to come in on Saturday night emergency hours for this?!” Instead, I bite my tongue, explain to the owner that her dog appears stable, and offer her an appointment on Tuesday. The woman declines and insists that since she’s already here, she wants to be seen. I let her know it will be a long wait and that a doctor will be with her as soon as possible.

“Did they make an appointment?” my coworker shouts as I emerge from the hallway of exam rooms. “Nope,” I say as I roll my eyes in obvious annoyance. “Why not?!” she asks with the frustration and exhaustion apparent in her voice. I round her on what’s going on with the dog, then leave the case in her hands as I am already running 20 minutes late to lunch (as usual).

I decide to dedicate my precious lunch break to making a return at the store across the street. As I trek in that direction, I feel my heart start to race and my knees start to shake. I attribute it to the fact that I’ve had coffee and nothing to eat since 10 am and brush it off. However, as I wait in line at the returns desk, I notice I’m sweating – the kind of sweating you do in an interview or when you’re meeting your significant other’s parents for the first time. I shift my shopping bag to my other hand and wipe my damp palm on my scrub pants.

I am no stranger to anxiety, but this is different. I’m getting that sensation you get when your boss says “Can I speak with you in my office?” and you start to panic and wrack your brain trying to figure out what you did and whether or not you’re getting fired. I feel nauseous and I’m thinking about bailing on this line because I’m suddenly feeling desperate for fresh air.

Suddenly, the Pointer comes to mind. THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE POINTER. My stomach drops and it all clicks. There’s something wrong with the Pointer and my body knew it before my brain did. I rush to pull my cell phone out of my scrub pocket and call my coworker. “Has the Pointer left?” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer. “No,” she replies with a question mark lingering at the end of her words. “The doctor just went in, why?” I can finally exhale. “Good, ok. I don’t know, I just had a weird feeling, I was gonna ask you to make them stay.”

I hurry back across the street, feet heavy and goosebumps covering my arms. I rush to the break room, where I jump onto the computer and pull up the dog’s medical record. My stomach drops and my teeth clench as I see the title of the SOAP: “Splenic mass.”

Later, I approach the doctor who saw the case to apologize for my failure to triage the patient appropriately. Turns out the doctor had felt the mass on abdominal palpation, then taken the dog for an ultrasound to confirm the location. The mass had not ruptured or started to bleed, and the patient was stable and scheduled for surgery early the next morning. It was all going to be fine, but I couldn’t help but think: What if I had sent that dog home and that mass had ruptured between now and the appointment on Tuesday?

Years later, I still rely on vitals and objective information when I triage pets, but now I also listen to my gut. On more occasions than I care to admit, my gut has been wrong and made me overreact and look like a crazy person who has no idea what she’s doing. But on several occasions, it has also come to my rescue and told me to get a doctor involved immediately even when the normal vitals and BAR presentation are telling me otherwise.

Veterinary Medicine is not just a science, it is an art. If we rely only on facts and figures, we miss out on the power of instinct and intuition, both of which are crucial in the way we practice medicine. I would rather overreact a thousand times than miss one critical patient, so I plan to continue to listen to this gut of mine – It is a tool, just like my calculator or my stethoscope, and learning to use it has made me a significantly better Veterinary Technician.

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 euthanizing my own cat changed me as a Vet Tech

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Yesterday, I sent my childhood friend of 18 years over the rainbow bridge. I’ve lost pets before, but none since I started my career in veterinary medicine. I’ve come away from this experience as a changed Technician, and I believe it to be for the better. Here are just a few of the things that changed my perspective.

1. I carry a new burden of responsibility.

When we lost our dog 10 years ago, I was in high school. The decision was based on the recommendation of the medical staff, and it was made as a family. The weight of that decision was shared among the four of us, and was guided by compassionate Veterinarians and Technicians that we trusted. Now, I am the Technician that my family trusts and looks to for guidance.

As Veterinary professionals, we all get the usual influx of calls, texts, and messages from friends and family asking for medical advice. But when it comes to quality of life and whether or not to say goodbye, suddenly the weight of being a Veterinary Technician is much heavier. The weight is both an honor and a burden. I know how much it meant to my family to have someone they trusted to look to for advice and guidance and answers. I know it meant my cat was spoken for in the best possible way. I am honored that I am trusted and that my family recognizes how valuable my knowledge and experience are. The decision to let our cat go was one that was made as a family, but the guidance and suggestions came from me. That was a new weight for me to carry, and I didn’t realize until now just how heavy it would be.

2. Grieving looks different outside of the hospital.

As a Veterinary Technician, I feel I can confidently say I’ve witnessed the full spectrum of grief within an animal hospital. But what I learned is that the experience of grief changes outside of the walls of the hospital. I easily participate in at least two or three euthanasias per day at my job. I always admire people for their strength and their ability to make the difficult decisions that need to be made. But what I don’t let myself think about is everything those people experienced up until the moment they are sitting on the couch in front of me, and everything they will go through as soon as they leave the hospital without their loved one.

Honestly, it’s something I can’t afford to think about – my emotional capacity won’t allow for it. But in saying goodbye to my own cat, I experienced it firsthand. There was sadness, there was anger, there was doubt, blame, camaraderie, isolation, love. I felt the weight of all of these emotions, many of which were even directed at me specifically in my unique role as the guidance counselor for my family. We all grieve differently, and I know this, we all know this. But we only witness a limited spectrum of grief in our work. This experience offered me a reminder of just how much people endure prior to euthanasia and afterwards – those parts we don’t see. As a Technician, it has made me respect pet owners for their difficult and compassionate decisions even more than I already did.

3. It’s important to have a plan.

I knew this already. I tell clients on a regular basis to have one ahead of time. But I learned firsthand just how important it truly is. My cat was in chronic renal failure. We were lucky in that she lived with it comfortably for over 3 years. But we said from the start we would never do subcutaneous fluids at home. We had tried it on numerous occasions, but every single time she would fight and cry and growl and struggle and then hide under the bed for the rest of the day.  Fluids are brilliant for many, many cats. But they just weren’t right for ours. It wasn’t what we wanted for her. We made this decision as a family years ago, shortly after her diagnosis, and we were confident in it, because it was made in her best interest. In the past couple weeks, when she started to decline quickly, we lost perspective and were grasping for straws because we weren’t ready to lose her. But the decision not to do daily fluids had already been made, and we could look back and know that our reasons were valid.

Had we been presented with that decision in the moment, when she was struggling and we were emotional, our choice may have been different. Without the plans we made ahead of time, we may not have had the strength to make the right decision for our cat. As a Veterinary Technician, I’ve always said that I lose all sense of reason when it comes to my own pets. It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it also could not have been more true in this scenario. The plans we set in place ahead of time helped me just as much (if not more) than they did the rest of my family.

4. I have plenty to learn.

I thought I understood CKD. I thought I knew what my stance on quality of life was. I thought I knew what the options were and how it would all happen. I was wrong. Experiencing something like this with your own pets gives you a deeper and more thorough understanding of it. Talking to my family about all of the different medical conditions our cat was experiencing and what we could and couldn’t do for her gave me new perspective into how difficult it can be to process information in an emotional situation.

I know that my ability to communicate with clients will be stronger and clearer. I know that my thoughts about euthanasia and quality of life will be even more confident. I know that my level of compassion and patience has grown. I know that I have plenty more to learn, and I also know that I am a much better Technician today than I was a few months ago. I’ve learned things about myself, about my family, and about my career that will aid me greatly in years to come.

5. I work with beautiful people.

I’ve always admired my coworkers and the amazing work that they do. They are a group of compassionate, patient, brilliant, and genuine people, and I feel honored every day to work alongside them. Through this experience, I’ve grown to appreciate them that much more. In the past few months, I have leaned on my coworkers in ways I’ve never needed to before. I cannot count the number of texts I sent or the hours of conversations I had.

Each of my teammates spoke from both their medical knowledge and their personal experiences. They comforted me in ways I cannot describe. In a period of time in which I felt my family was looking to me for answers, I was looking to them. My logic had gone out the window and been replaced with emotion and doubt, but they were there to be the voice of reason for me. I consider myself to be a pretty independent and confident person, but in the face of incredibly difficult decisions surrounding my cat and her quality of life, that was challenged. My coworkers were there for me when I truly needed them, and I was able to experience a side of them that is usually reserved for clients.

These are absolutely beautiful people I work with. They are selfless and supportive, and I was lucky to be on the receiving end of that. I’ve always thought of many of my coworkers as friends, but I now see them as family. I know for a fact I would not have been able to do this without the love and guidance they gave me, and it has exponentially increased the respect I already had for each of them.

I owe a lot to my cat. I grew up with her. She gave me 18 years of friendship and love. I am eternally grateful for her life and the honor of being a part of it. There is something to be learned from every relationship, and I think some of the most important lessons come from our pets. Thank you, Kiwi. Even in your final days, you made me a better person.

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 5 Technicians You Will Meet At the Clinic

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Veterinary medicine is comprised of a lot of different personality types. In many ways, it is why I love my job – I am surrounded by people of varying backgrounds, plenty of whom had entire previous careers before landing in an animal hospital. I was a dance major in college, who woulda thunk! However, the very thing that makes us such a diverse and well rounded group of people also makes for some challenging working relationships. Here are a few of the common personalities we encounter among Veterinary Technicians and the ways I’ve been successful in dealing with them.

1 – The Enthusiast

via GIPHY

This person is excited about everything. They want to be involved in every thrilling case that walks (or is stretchered) through the front doors. They are often the ones to drop everything for a GDV, but then can’t be found when it comes time to do annual vaccines. They want to learn and grow, but in pursuing valuable experience, they often prioritize inefficiently, leaving others to do their less exciting work for them. This person means well. However, their intense drive to jump into interesting or exciting cases doesn’t allow them to see things in a bigger picture.

How to deal with an Enthusiast: Remind yourself that this person means no harm. They see things as an opportunity and don’t necessarily realize how they are inconveniencing or overshadowing others. In my experience, the Enthusiast has two basic needs: to feel that they are learning, and to feel that they are important. Find productive ways to harness that energy: Get them involved in hospital projects, put them in charge of training a new employee, have them create training workshops. Enthusiasm is a very valuable trait, and it is something we never want to smother.

[tweetthis]The 5 Technicians You Will Meet at the Clinic[/tweetthis]

2 – The Know-It-All

via GIPHY

This person asks no questions and knows all answers. Some of their favorite pastimes are butting into conversations, answering questions not directed at them, and spewing out phrases like, “That’s what I was going to say”. This person has experienced everything and wants you to know it.

How to deal with a Know-It-All: This person doesn’t always realize what they’re doing. When they butt into your conversation, they aren’t trying to be disrespectful. When they cut someone off to answer your question, it’s just because they are so eager to show you they know the answer. The Know-It-All has an intense need to prove themselves, and it often stems from a place of insecurity.

Give the Know-It-All appropriate venues in which to demonstrate their knowledge, and create scenarios in which it is comfortable for them to admit to actually not knowing something. Know-It-Alls do great with new hire training. Let them show your new employees how to use the computer system and how things function on a day-to-day setting in your hospital. Know-It-Alls LOVE to be asked questions, so while this kind of basic training can be dull and repetitive to others, the Know-It-All will absolutely thrive in this kind of position.

Try to also set the stage to allow the Know-It-All to ask questions in a comfortable way. The Know-It-All needs to know they will not be looked at as inferior if they don’t know something, so make it common and acceptable. For example, let’s say my Know-It-All has no experience with IO catheters, but I know he/she is ready to learn. I would approach the concept by saying something like “Hey, I have no idea how to place an IO catheter, and Susie said she would teach me. Do you want to come with me?” The Know-It-All is given an invitation to learn without being given the invitation to teach, and by admitting your own technical deficits, the Know-It-All may feel more comfortable in acknowledging their own without ever having to feel inferior.

3 – The Bully

via GIPHY

This person will try to intimidate you. This is often someone you encounter within the first week at a new job – they will make an effort to throw you into an uncomfortable situation to see if you will sink or swim. They will test you. The Bully often has a temper and can be unpredictable. Their goal is to be the Alpha, and to establish a certain level of fear among their peers so as to put them in a dominant position. The Bully will point fingers at anyone but themselves – they can often be found blaming a failed blood draw on the holder or pointing out flaws in a client who refuses to work with them. Nothing is their fault, and they will try to intimidate you into agreeing.

How to deal with a Bully: Be secure in yourself. Do not cave to a Bully’s intimidation efforts, but also do not fight back. Do not engage with a Bully, and most of all, do not apologize if you have done no wrong. As humans, we have a tendency to overuse the phrase “I’m sorry”, and a Bully sees that as weakness and submission.

With Bullies, I keep it all business. I will give you an example: It was my first day at a job, and a Bully had me restrain a dog for her. She couldn’t hit the vein for the life of her, and I saw her quickly becoming frustrated and trying to blame her own failures on my restraint technique. I knew it had nothing to do with my restraint, so I said “I’d be happy to find someone else to help you.” I did not apologize or acknowledge her accusations. A few days later, she asked me for help again. She recognized that I wasn’t going to fight and I wasn’t going to apologize. I was confident in my ability and secure in myself, and that’s all it took. They say you teach people how to treat you, and I think that is especially true when it comes to working with a Bully.

4 – The Doubter

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The Doubter is a wonderful and talented person who doesn’t know it. They are often incredibly skilled and natural at what they do. They are fast learners and hard workers, well-liked, compassionate and dedicated. Their only flaw is their lack of confidence in themselves. The Doubter is the person who will give up too soon, or not even try at all. They often do not take advantage of practice opportunities because they do not trust in their own ability. The Doubters are the ones often overshadowed by the Enthusiasts. While the Enthusiasts jump into situations they may not be ready for, the Doubters hand off opportunities to others even when they are perfectly capable.

How to handle a Doubter: Encouragement! Doubters need to be cheered on and acknowledged and reminded of why they are great. They are not fishing for compliments, but truly need their confidence to come from an outside source. Every good technician or doctor has a healthy level of fear. However, Doubters take their fear too far, and allow it to slow their growth.

Doubters need extra motivation to jump into scenarios and try new things, so sometimes pairing an Enthusiast with a Doubter is actually a match made in heaven. Give the Enthusiast the job of helping the Doubter learn a new skill, and the Enthusiast will provide them with the encouragement and the extra little push that the Doubter needs.

Another thing I try to do with Doubters is to relate. I talk to them about my failures, and let them know how normal they are. Often times, Doubters see everyone around them as amazing and talented and incredible. Letting a Doubter see your weaknesses or hear about your failures helps to bridge the gap between themselves and what they see as superior, letting them know that they are not so far behind after all.

5 – The Perfectionist

via GIPHY

We are all perfectionists in Veterinary Medicine, but there are some who take it to an unhealthy level. These people cannot stand to fail. A Perfectionist may miss one blood draw and question their ability to hit a vein for the next two weeks. A Perfectionist may miss a low grade heart murmur and dwell on it for the next three months. These people carry their shortcomings with them for much longer than the average person. They are generally quite supportive and understanding of the failures of those around them, but are unable to rationalize their own. They have trouble moving on and are known to beat themselves up over the littlest things.

How to deal with a Perfectionist: A Perfectionist needs things to be put into perspective for them. Their failures are all they can remember after a day full of successes. The one thing a Perfectionist needs is a reason to forgive themselves. Often times, relating to a peer is difficult, but relating to a role model can be helpful. Placing focus on successes and strengths is also key when dealing with a Perfectionist – let them know that you still rely on them and their strong skills even after their failure. The key in working with a Perfectionist is patience – you cannot make them feel better about their failures, but you can give them reasons to start to forgive themselves.

Each of us has elements of all five of these personalities within us. Some of us have a healthy level of each, while others lean way too far into one specific category. The key in working with anyone in any field is to find a way to relate without sacrificing oneself, and I think that rings very true for the veterinary field. In the end, if we take the extra time to interact with coworkers in the way that is most comfortable and supportive for their personality, it makes for a more positive and efficient workplace, and that reflects on the care our patients receive. Regardless of personality, that is one goal we all share – to take care of the animals and the people who love them in the best possible way.

[tweetthis]The key in working with anyone in any field is to find a way to relate without sacrificing oneself.[/tweetthis]

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.

5 Things This Tech Wishes You Knew Before Euthanizing

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Euthanasia. The word itself makes all our stomachs drop. It is a gift to pets and a curse to owners – having the power to decide is something we are not comfortable with. However, when going through the euthanasia process with your own pets, you are in a position to make numerous decisions that can change the course of the overall process.

As a Registered Veterinary Technician, I witness euthanasias on a daily basis. Let me share from personal experience the 5 things I wish every pet owner knew.

1. It’s ok to cry.

People apologize to me all the time for crying over their pets. Whether it’s time to say goodbye, or you are simply having a hard time watching us draw blood on your dog, I wish you knew that I GET IT. Many of us who work in animal medicine (myself very much included) are totally neurotic, hypersensitive, and obsessive when it comes to our own pets.

I may seem calm and collected while working with your cat, but that’s because it’s my job and I can’t afford to be any other way if I’m going to be good at it. You best believe that the second my dog so much as sneezes, I go into a total state of panic, lose all common sense, and forget everything I learned in tech school.

So, when you are crying over the pet that you have loved for years, I assure you, I have nothing but respect for you. I respect how much you care. I respect your ability to make such difficult decisions. I respect your bravery. And please know that no matter how demonstrative you may be with your emotions, you are still keeping it together more than I would be in your shoes.

2. Be there, if you can.

I am lucky to work in a hospital where the vast majority of pet owners stay with their pets for the euthanasia process. However, this is not always the case. I urge you to stay with your pets, if you can, for multiple reasons. First, for my sake. One of the absolute most difficult things I do as a Veterinary Technician is take on the role of comforting and loving a pet as they pass on when their human is not there to do so.

It is an incredible weight to try to act on your behalf, and it is emotionally exhausting in a way that I cannot even begin to describe. When you stay with your fur baby, I can focus on my own job, instead of doing both of ours.

Second, for your pet’s sake. The vet can be a very scary place for animals – they don’t understand what all these noises and smells are, or why these strangers are poking and prodding them. Do you want them to experience that fear alone? And have it be their very last memory? Your pet doesn’t know what we are doing or why – they only know that you are there, that you said it’s ok, that you love them.

I remember being a child, and how scary going to the doctor was, but how much more confident I felt with my mom there reassuring me. I imagine that is exactly how pets feel. If you can find the strength to be there, please do so. Please let your love, your touch, your presence be the last thing your pet experiences.

3. Keep the collar on.

One of the saddest things I witness during the euthanasia process is when humans take their pet’s collar off when they are still very much awake. To many pets, taking their collar off can have negative associations. For example, I know my own dog panics when I remove her collar as she knows it’s bath time! I want your pet to be as comfortable as possible, and that means not making any major changes immediately prior to euthanizing.

Pets are much smarter than we give them credit for, and they pick up on the smallest of cues. The unknown is scary to your pet, so even if they don’t know what the cues mean, the idea that something is new and strange and out of the ordinary is enough to cause them some sense of anxiety. So, keep the collar on until your pet has passed. Let them go in the state that they always were.

4. Make it a celebration.

Bring treats. Tell stories. Laugh and cry at the same time. Surround yourselves with all his/her favorite toys and beds and blankets. It’s ok to cry, and it’s also ok to celebrate! I love when people tell me they took their dog to the beach or napped in the sun with their cat right before coming in to the hospital. This is going to be one of the hardest days of your life, but it doesn’t have to be for your pet. I promise that the more you celebrate your pet’s life, no matter how long or short, the easier it will be to continue to live your own once this is all said and done.

It is ok to cry in front of your pet, to tell them how much you will miss them, to let them see you be absolutely beside yourself. I’m sure your pet has seen you at your worst before – I know mine has. But remember to celebrate, no matter how miserable you are. I promise it will make it easier for both you and your pet. What’s more, It will allow you to reflect on the euthanasia experience with positivity – you will remember that you celebrated and you will feel good about having done so.

5. Prepare.

I want this moment to be entirely about you and your pet. In order for that to be the case, several things must happen. First, you must understand the euthanasia process. If possible, talk to your vet or tech prior to coming into the hospital, or prior to starting the process – ask them to walk you through the steps of euthanasia so that you know exactly what to expect. Ask as many questions as you need to in order to feel comfortable with the process (or at least, as comfortable as you can be). Know what you’re walking into, so that your focus can be entirely on your pet.

Second, take care of business ahead of time when possible. Sign any required paperwork. Pay the bill. Decide on aftercare. Even go so far as to prepare your next meal ahead of time, arrange a ride, rent a movie, invite friends over – whatever you think might help you cope when you return home from the hospital without your pet. The less you have to deal with during and after euthanasia, the better. I want you to be able to focus entirely on your pet during the euthanasia and then entirely on yourself afterward. Let’s do whatever we can to make that possible.

Every euthanasia is different. Some are planned, some are sudden. Some may happen in your home, some in the hospital. Regardless, they are always difficult – to prepare for, to cope with, to experience. I hope these five things will help you to plan ahead and to make the process as beautiful as it can be for both you and your pet.

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.

You Need This Flea Prevention Song on a Playlist

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Think your pet doesn’t need flea prevention? Kelsey Beth Carpenter RVT is back with possibly the single greatest song about fleas ever created.

[tweetthis]The catchiest song about flea prevention you’ve ever heard[/tweetthis]

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 Musical Tribute to Dr. Google

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There are many people and websites that claim to have expert opinions on the care and keeping of pets but ultimately, the best source of information is your vet clinic. Everyone’s favorite veterinary songstress, Kelsey Beth Carpenter RVT, takes to her guitar to remind you not to believe everything you read or hear.

 

 

[tweetthis]Did Dr. Google go to veterinary school? [/tweetthis]

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.