There I Said It

Welcome to There, I Said It- a column where we give you, the reader, a chance to get something off your chest in an anonymous fashion. Be it embarrassing, frustrating, or just something you didn’t want to admit out loud, it still might make someone else having a bad day feel just a bit better. If you have a story of your own, unburden yourself at TISI@drandyroark.com.

By Anonymous

Hold on to me, ’cause I’m a little unsteady… A little unsteady… If you love me don’t let go… The radio played in the background. Almost perfect. Except for the ‘don’t’ part, I thought.

I euthanized my neurologic dog tonight.

Three years ago, we adopted her as a senior from a breed rescue. We were only supposed to foster her but she stole our hearts before she even jumped into the car.

Seven days ago, she looked a little stiff so I started her on pain meds.

Six days ago, she looked a little worse.

Five days ago, in a matter of hours, she lost the use of her hind legs.

Four days ago, an MRI showed a large tumor pressing against her spine.

Three days ago, I took my other dogs to daycare so they wouldn’t jump all over her all day.

Two days ago, I bought her a bigger kennel and zip-tied foam to the sides so she couldn’t fall and hurt herself.

One day ago, my husband ordered a special harness to help support her paraplegic little body.

Today, we found out that she has aggressive spinal cancer. Which kind of explains why the steroids didn’t make her better, didn’t help her walk again like we’d hoped.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we can’t leave her like this.”

Surgery wouldn’t remove the whole tumor and might make her worse. If it did work, it’d only buy us two months. Her specialists were hesitant to irradiate. And chemo may or may not help, but eventually we’d be back to where we were today–with a proud little dog who couldn’t stand up on her own and who cried when she urinated in her kennel. With a pitiful little dog who was visibly exhausted but couldn’t get any rest.

On my way home from work, I stopped at Wendy’s to get a bacon cheeseburger and fries. Then I stopped at Chik-Fil-A, because milkshakes are better than Frostys. She always tried to drink out of our milk glasses.

When I got home, she was cuddling on the couch with my husband. The one place that allowed her to forget she couldn’t walk. I cut the burger into pieces and watched her inhale every crumb. We watched her drink her milkshake. And once she was finished, with a full tummy and an empty bladder, we stroked her and kissed her, trying to memorize every idiosyncrasy, until she relaxed. She’s the rare dog who enjoyed hugs and PDA.

I didn’t want to wait too long for fear of GI upset. I couldn’t do it too soon for fear of rushing my husband. I couldn’t let tears fill my eyes as I was executing this most important mission. And as her body relaxed and her eyes closed with long-overdue sleep, I slipped my syringe of propofol into her IV catheter. Not too fast, not too slow….

She yawned and exhaled. Then I snuck in the euthanasia solution. And when I was done, she looked perfectly asleep.

I’m not a particularly religious person, but I silently thanked God for allowing her to have a good death. And allowing me to give her a good death.

I know nothing will fill the empty space in my heart. Instead, I’ll do my best to stopper the hole. I’ll remember how she could raise anyone’s self-esteem by making them think they were the BEST DOG-PETTER EVER. I’ll remember how she would tap her tail and stare in annoyance if you stopped scratching her chest. I’ll remember chasing her away from eating the other dogs’ poo in the backyard. And I’ll remember the soft curves of that kissable little head, the head full of experiences I will never know, which turned her into my perfect little once-in-a-lifetime dog.

I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect euthanasia, a happy ending. Because nobody wants to lose their best friend. But tonight, I feel lucky that I came close.

 

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

Welcome to There, I Said It- a column where we give you, the reader, a chance to get something off your chest in an anonymous fashion. Be it embarrassing, frustrating, or just something you didn’t want to admit out loud, it still might make someone else having a bad day feel just a bit better. If you have a story of your own, unburden yourself at TISI@drandyroark.com.

By Anonymous

Dear pet owner,

Please do not wait until you are about to leave in 24 hours to get your critically ill pet seen. Now, if he was fine and then all of a sudden became sick, that is different. But your vague ADR (Ain’t Doin’ Right) dog that has been that way for a month should have been brought in a month ago.

I did have a lady leaving for Chicago the next day come in with a dog when she got home from work for excessive drooling. He then vomited in the clinic. This dog was still bright, alert and responsive and it was the first overt sign of a problem. I will work with this situation happily and do my best. She also arranged for him to be in her mom’s care, who brought him back immediately the next day as soon as he refused a meal – what I was hoping was acute gastritis was actually pancreatitis.

Both owner and her mom had planned ahead knowing we may keep him and were prepared for a pricey estimate. Their quick response and communication meant he was eating and went home next day.

But this is for the owners who have had a vaguely ill dog for a month or more coming in and expecting quick answers and fixes. I had an itchy dog present who was also not eating- and didn’t feel any guts where there should be guts. Microhepatica and blood work showing the liver has shut down. And another one today: “Fix her before we leave”- aggressive with lumpy kidneys and azotemia.

“But she won’t take pills, can’t you just give her a shot?”

“Sure, if I can hospitalize her.”

“No we don’t want that.”

If I hear “We are going on vacation” again I will scream, because that doesn’t change the fact your dog needs critical care. If cost is an issue because you are saving for vacation then put the dog to sleep. Don’t let it suffer while you relax on a beach.

End rant.

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

 

This post is sponsored by Merial.

Once upon a time, in a long-ago place where you could still find rotary phones and mustard yellow was an acceptable color to wear, people found veterinary clinics using a vast dusty tome known as the yellow pages. They would peruse the various rectangular ads, settle on one based on little more to go on than a name and logo, and actually pick up the phone to call you with any questions.

 

Oh, how times have changed.

Beginning in the mid-90s, the vast and depthless internet began to integrate itself into our lives, and society was forever altered. It took some people longer than others to catch on, particularly when it came to their businesses, and those who stubbornly continued to pour their advertising dollars into the yellow pages were quickly left in the dust. Let’s assume that since you are here online reading this piece on a site run by an internet veterinary powerhouse, you are not one of them. You are one of those people who sees the value in the limitless control over your branding offered by the world wide web. But does this include a blog?

 

As recently as 2009, the idea of a veterinary blog was met with incredulous smirks from both colleagues and businesses, who assumed I simply sat at home and photographed my dog wearing silly costumes. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that- now people who photograph their dogs wearing costumes have a million followers on Instagram® and book deals.) I simply smiled and plowed on, sure that history would vindicate me. It did.

 

Gradually, those same people came to understand that there was both value and necessity in creating an internet presence for businesses. It came with a lot of moaning and groaning, mostly from people who protested that they didn’t know how to write, or didn’t have time to write in a busy clinic, or both. They’d churn out a bland post about heartworm disease prevention statistics and then, when it bombed, point to it as an example of why blogging was a waste of time.

 

Well sure it is, if that’s how you do it.

 

The truth is, blogging and blogging well are two entirely different things, and it’s easy to get caught up in the minutiae of a constantly evolving vernacular: SEO, bounce rates, page rank, content marketing. If you’re marketing your clinic, you should be aware of what these are, but to me the golden rule of veterinary blogging has always been this: Create Engaging Content. If you don’t, the rest of those things don’t matter anyway.

 

Throw away blogging for a second and think instead of cooking. If I’m going to make you a pizza, I can do it lots of ways: in a fancy convection oven, on the grill, over an open flame. Every year there’s a new trendy gadget for your kitchen that may help your cooking technique, but if you’re cooking with bland mealy dough your pizza is going to stink.

 

Yesterday’s Twitter® is today’s Snapchat®; pressure cookers and toaster ovens that will come and go. Your clinic’s story, however, is the ingredient that never changes. Blogging is how you shape that story.

Regular blogging allows you to be in charge of the image your clinic presents to the world and gives Google® something to deliver when people are searching for you.

 

If you’re not Hemingway, don’t worry. Writing a good blog is not the same as crafting the Great American Novel; it’s a skill that can be learned, albeit often at a price. You can learn by trial and error, or you can skip that work and have someone train you. Lucky for you, if you’re trying to build that skill set, we know of a free webinar about blogging specifically aimed at the veterinary team.

 

Merial, the makers of NexGard for dogs® (afoxolaner), has teamed up with internet marketing agency Vertical Measures to present an online marketing webinar series open to all. The next session, Blogging Best Practices, will be presented on three dates: July 7, July 21, and August 11.

 

The 60-minute webinar is free and open to all. For more information and to register, visit this link: www.verticalmeasures.com/nexgard-merial-webinars/.

 

If you’ve been dragging your feet on getting a blog off the ground, there’s no time like the present. Despite what the old guy with the yellow pages may tell you, we all need to keep up with the times. The effort is well worth it!

 

Welcome to There, I Said It- a column where we give you, the reader, a chance to get something off your chest in an anonymous fashion. Be it embarrassing, frustrating, or just something you didn’t want to admit out loud, it still might make someone else having a bad day feel just a bit better. If you have a story of your own, unburden yourself at TISI@drandyroark.com.

 

In 2005, I tried to commit suicide.

If it wasn’t for my dad (who happens to be a veterinarian) I would have been successful. He told the ER physician they did in fact need to treat me for acetaminophen toxicity, and I am so grateful that he did. Today I am a wife and a mom to three beautiful boys. I am thankful, grateful, and as happy as I think anyone really can be with all the stresses life brings.

I never forget what I did. I think about it often and recently, with the publication of a study revealing that 1 in 6 veterinarians have considered suicide, I think about it more often. As part of that statistic, my concern is for those that don’t ask for help. I didn’t, at least not really.

I turned my life upside down, but otherwise I seemed happier then I had been in years. The weekend I attempted suicide was the anniversary of my grandpa’s death and a friend’s suicide. I remember driving home and feeling the urge to just drive off the road…the only reason I didn’t was because my cat was in the car with me and I didn’t want to hurt him. It was a very calm decision, no crying in the car, just calm.

I got into my hometown and drove to two grocery stores, one for a bottle of alcohol, the other for a bottle of Tylenol PM. I arrived home as if it was any other day. That night my family took my grandma out to dinner so she wouldn’t be alone. I said goodbye, but she didn’t know what I really meant because it was expected for me to hug her longer, tell her I love her repeatedly.

The next day, I got breakfast on my own and drove to my grandpa’s grave to write my goodbyes through rushing tears. I arrived home calm and made my parents dinner. Afterwards, they went downstairs to watch a movie and I went upstairs to study for my cardiology exam- which I did for almost two hours before taking a bath with a bottle of wine, a knife, and a bottle of Tylenol PM. I didn’t cut myself because it hurt when I tried so I just took more pills. At some point I crawled out of the bath and got myself into bed.

My mom came upstairs and saw the bottle of wine, not concerned until she saw the knife at the side of the bathtub, then the notes. Then I don’t remember much until I do- the awful taste of acetylcysteine.

I am so thankful I am here. I love my husband and my boys, I am grateful I got to stay alive, to make it through an inner hell that I wasn’t even aware I was in until after. The things I wrote in my letters did not make sense. The whole thing didn’t make sense. The only thing that makes sense is in those moments I was out of my mind, not really aware of what I was doing or what was happening to me. My thoughts were not rational, I was not rational.

Every day I worry, for those that ask for help, but even more for those that don’t. How can you help those that don’t ask or don’t appear to show their pain? I fear for those like me in those moments. How can we really help others like that, like me? Unfortunately, online, we can’t. But we can think about how we could for those in own personal lives, or anyone you see and meet around you.

My hope in sharing my experience is that it might help others understand the illness that is depression. Or that I might reach someone who is on that ledge to say: “I am here, it does get better, what is to come in life is worth this struggle.” To those of you who are lucky enough to not suffer from depression, support those who do even though you may not understand. The conclusion that suicide is an easier choice makes no sense to you because it makes no sense at all. So just be there.

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team. Submissions may be edited for content and clarity.

Welcome to There, I Said It- a column where we give you, the reader, a chance to get something off your chest in an anonymous fashion. Be it embarrassing, frustrating, or just something you didn’t want to admit out loud, it still might make someone else having a bad day feel just a bit better. If you have a story of your own, unburden yourself at TISI@drandyroark.com.

 

 

I had a serious mental breakdown the other day, one that I am sure many can relate to.

Let me tell you about me: I am a caretaker.  I take care of my family- financially, morally, emotionally, physically.  I am the main income earner.  I also care for animals and their families at the end of life.  I do both things seven days a week.

I also run my own business, am helping run a conference, for which I get no pay, and am a consultant for other veterinarians who need help.  I care deeply about each of the things I do.  All of my friends will tell you I am the strong, reliable one.  I might be a little overextended. I get that.

But I suspect that if you relate, you are too.

Here is where things went wrong…. my father died.  I was estranged from him, and so  I wasn’t there. It was sudden and, to my surprise, I was overwhelmed with grief.  I took two days off after being flattened by the grief.  A healthy thing to do, right?  Well, not according to one of my clients, who wrote a letter to me with such vitriol it physically hurt me.  I continued on, knowing that it was one person, and everyone else still really appreciated me and my help.  Then I got sick, really sick.  My body’s way of making me stop my addiction to helping.  I actually had to turn people away.

But it was the tiniest thing that sent me over the edge: My husband lost his phone.  It wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, he has destroyed or lost every cell phone he has ever owned.  We got into a fight, because he wanted me to drop everything and buy a new phone for him.  That was when it hit me.  Like a ton of bricks!  I care, and care deeply for every person I meet in life…but who cares for me.  Not in the sense of feeling, but actual physical, emotional, spiritual caring.  To be cared for.

And that is when I lost it.  I didn’t want to care for another human being on the planet. I didn’t want to help any more families or anymore pets. I didn’t want to be on the planet.   I was depressed.

I needed to take time for me.  Since I am the only one who cares for me.  Hard as that is, that is what I need.  So I went for a drive.  A long drive.  I briefly thought about ending it.  I understood where people get to.  Instead, I am sharing.  If you get to this place, this dark side of the force, call for light, find some help.

Caretakers need to be cared for too.  You might be so good at caring for others, you have forgotten yourself, forgotten how to care.  Ask for help.  Not necessarily the help everyone tells you to get, find someone who has been there.  Who has hit the bottom, and climbed out, who can be there, just to listen and commiserate.  Someone who doesn’t need to fix it for you.  If you feel you need professional help, find that too.

 I received a gift of a chocolate bar from a stranger at a nail salon.  She saw me crying, and listened.  She wants to be a caretaker someday.  I hope she remembers the crazy vet, who had a mental breakdown and the gift she provided for her.

Tomorrow I have to go back to caring.  Today, I am just caring for me.

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team. Submissions may be edited for content and clarity.

Welcome to There, I Said It- a column where we give you, the reader, a chance to get something off your chest in an anonymous fashion. Be it embarrassing, frustrating, or just something you didn’t want to admit out loud, it still might make someone else having a bad day feel just a bit better. If you have a story of your own, unburden yourself at TISI@drandyroark.com.

 

This is very difficult for me to say: I was fired.

I felt like had let myself down, and my friends and my family. Why me? What will other people think of me? Am I a good veterinary technician? Is this the career choice I want? I had many sleepless nights with a lot of crying. What was I going to do?

I was fired after working only a couple years at a practice. It was my first real job as a veterinary technician, and I was devastated after it happened. I was given statements on why they were firing me that I felt were both mean and untrue. I tried to talk to the owner of the practice, but they refused to hear my side of the story. The decision was final.

I sent dozens of resumes out and got very little response back in my surroundings area. The interviews I went to went terribly and would never be a good fit. I started to look statewide. That meant me having to uproot and look for a new place to live and selling my house. I was scared: What am I going to do financially? Am I going to be able to find a place to rent that will allow me to take a large dog?

I found a part-time job at a retail store to help make ends meet financially. They were very supportive of helping me find a veterinary technician job. I sent out more resumes daily to clinics I found online and clinics that were not advertising they were hiring. I went on more interviews that were not a good fit. I went on some where I felt I would be a great fit, but the positions were part-time and meant I would have to move to that area. I did not want to move for a part-time veterinary technician job with no promise of a full time job.

After keeping at it, I finally got some interviews where I felt confident and thought I would be a great fit. I received a job offer- two, in fact. Now came the hard decision of picking one. I listed out my pros and cons and made my decision.

I started my new job a few weeks ago. My coworkers are fantastic. I feel I am trusted, which is something I never felt at my last practice.  The more I look back on my experience of being fired, I feel like it was a blessing.  I would not have gotten through it without the support of friends and family. Reading some of these articles produced by anonymous people have also helped.

Sometimes you really do need to go through something horrible in order to find something better waiting for you on the other side. I was fired, and it was a good thing.

[tweetthis]Sometimes you need to go through something horrible to find something better waiting for you[/tweetthis]

The views and opinions featured on There, I Said It are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team. Submissions may be edited for content and clarity.