A note for anyone who cares about people working in veterinary medicine this holiday season
One small secret of the vet profession is that the holiday season is not a particularly happy time for us. This doesn’t mean we are miserable or anything. It’s just that the holidays can be… heavy. Of course veterinary people have all the stress everyone else does around the end of the year, but they also carry extra burdens driven by holiday euthanasias and what I like to call “Christmas math.”
Holiday euthanasias are not particularly bad as individual instances. As individual cases, they’re not that different from any other euthanasia. For example, I can’t remember any cases where I was asked to put a pet to sleep for some holiday reason and thought it was the wrong decision. The burden of holiday euthanasias comes in their volume.
People are rightfully particular about how and when they will say goodbye to their best friends. It’s common for people who understand their pet’s quality of life is declining to want one more Christmas together before parting at the rainbow bridge. Also, when families have grown children, it can be important for everyone to see their pet once more and to properly say goodbye. The holidays provide this opportunity and can serve as a meaningful final chapter in a life well lived.
The downside here is that many families have these same thoughts, and it leads to veterinarians and technicians doing a lot of euthanasias in a short amount of time. As a tenured veterinarian, I’m fairly used to being with families during these sad moments and I also tend to believe that euthanasia is a gift to patients who have begun to suffer. Still, there is an emotional burden associated more with supporting the families than with death itself. A friend called me a few days ago for a pep talk because he was about to start four euthanasia appointments that were all waiting for him. I don’t care how polished or professional you are, that kind of experience takes a toll.
Christmas math is less common, but it bothers me more when it happens. This is when pet owners have to weigh medical decisions against desires for the holidays. I’ve been present for more than one family discussion where it was decided that the big presents everyone wanted would not happen so that the family cat could have surgery or be hospitalized. I’ve also seen medical cases turn into euthanasia appointments because the holidays had emptied the families’ financial reserves and treatment was now not possible. These instances are gut wrenching to behold.
I want to be clear here and say that I’m not judging anyone who finds themselves in this position. Please don’t think that I am angry with these people for having to manage their finances or to choose between difficult priorities. After all, I can’t imagine telling my young kids there won’t be a Christmas this year, or shouldering the guilt from feeling like “if I had only known this was coming…” My heart breaks for these people, and that adds a little to the holiday burden.
But I didn’t write all of this to elicit sympathy for people spending their holidays in the clinic. I love Christmas and find a lot of happiness around the end of year, as do most of the vet professionals I know. I am writing because people often ask me what can be done to help lighten this load. I think every person is different in what they need in terms of emotional support, but I have some ideas about what seems to help and what does not.
If you want to support veterinary teams during the holiday, my biggest piece of advice is to please not try to force holiday joy down their throats. This is not me asking you to ignore them, skip decorating the clinic, cut off their supply of baked goods, or hide your own holiday joy away. I think those approaches are too sad and they would make the world a darker place.
Instead, my suggestion is to lean into the season by meeting people carrying burdens where they are. I ask that you show them appreciation and make them understand that they matter to you. Let them know you are thinking of them, and that you enjoy their company. Give them small acts of kindness, and radiate your own joy into the world.
It’s not about blasting them with a firehose of holiday spirit, or about cheering them through the crappy parts of their job. Instead, as my friend Stephanie Goss puts it, the goal is to be a consistent, subtle source of comfort—like a small space heater in the back room that people instinctively gather around for warmth. This kind of understated, steadfast support provides a comfort that endures the coldest months and often proves more effective than overt gestures.
To all of my veterinary friends, I wish you happy holidays. I know things probably feel frantic in life and at the clinic right now. I just want to remind you that your work in supporting families matters deeply and that sadness and the ending of chapters is required to move into new phases of life and love.
As we console and counsel those whose year is ending in sorrow, we should recognize this sadness only exists because of the love and joy that came before. It is happening now so that new relationships can come in the future. Yes, our holidays are heavy, but only because the work we do matters so much and because we are so needed. I hope as you look back on your year, you will be proud of your efforts. I also hope you will allow yourself to drink in the magic of the season. For us, the holidays don’t have to be about the colored lights or the presents under the tree. They can be about understanding the richness of life, the feeling of endings and beginnings, and the love and pain that is unique to the human-animal bond.
Please take care of yourselves!
