Wellness

This article contains detailed discussion of suicide and suicide methods. If you are having thoughts of suicide, text 741-741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor right away or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

The topic of suicide is a potential trigger for those struggling with feelings of guilt after the loss of a friend, colleague or loved one. If you are experiencing these emotions, please reach out for support. You may also find related resources here.

August 13^th 2018 started just like any other Monday. I am the practice manager of a private clinic. I worked my way through starting as a kennel assistant, moving to room assistant, then bookkeeper and finally into practice manager. I have been with my clinic for 12 years.

In 2008, the practice owner had to bring one of her cats to live at the clinic due to his uncontrollable behavior. She had a baby at home and the cat would attack unprovoked. He had a brain injury from trauma at a young age. He was thrown off a bridge with a bag tied around one of his back legs, which she had to amputate.

He led a normal “clinic cat” life. He was allowed to roam the clinic, mostly in “the back,” but ventured “upfront” every once in a while.

In February of 2018, the medical part of the business moved to a new location, leaving the boarding facility where it was. I was to stay at the boarding facility and run it. We boarded cats, dogs and some exotics. I had one assistant at the facility and she would be there when I ran over to the clinic for a few hours every day.

When the clinic moved, the practice owner left the cat with me at the boarding facility. He was my best friend. We spent a lot of time together. On weekends, I would work the kennels and we would take naps together in between shifts.

We would have “picnics” in the inside play area. We shared glasses of water, containers of yogurt and whatever else I was eating that he wanted. To say he was spoiled is an understatement. I loved him and I truly believed he knew how much. I also like to believe that he loved me.

On August 13^th, 2018, everything changed. I left to go to the clinic. While I was there, the assistant called and said: “the cat is fine but you need to come back.” My heart dropped. I drove back as fast as I could. When I got there, she said two of the dogs boarding had flipped the latch on the kennel door and attacked the cat. He was sitting in the corner with no visible wounds, no blood, but something looked off. He had a pocket where it looked like he had been given subcutaneous fluids. He got them once a week due to early kidney failure, but I hadn’t given him the fluids that day. I got him in a carrier, loaded him up and headed back to the clinic. I called and told them I was on my way with him.

When I got there, we got him on the treatment table, the associate DVM looked him over, and the cat became agitated. They decided to do an X-ray just to make sure he didn’t have any internal injuries, and to see if there was anything in that pocket. He blew up like a balloon. Neither of the two doctors in the room had seen anything like it before (they both have 20 plus years’ experience). I went white when I saw him.

The dogs had punctured his trachea and his body was filling with air. They put needles in him to release the air they could and body wrapped him to keep it under control. For obvious reasons, he was sedated.

He stayed sedated until the next day when the practice owner and associate DVM attempted to repair the tear. It was the most stressful surgery I have been in. Probably because he was “my” cat.

He was on oxygen 24/7. We transferred him to the local emergency clinic each night, with instructions to call with any new developments. I soon learned what it’s like to try to sleep expecting that dreaded call in the middle of the night. We picked him up each morning and took him back to our clinic for the day. I sat with him and watched those damn machines that were breathing for him.

It was August 16^th, my day off, but I met the doctors at the clinic to pick up our boy up and take him to our clinic. I had every intention of just staying with him that day.

I held the oxygen mask on him, while the DVM was preparing drugs for him. The plan was to wean him off the oxygen throughout the day and attempt to get him to breathe on his own. At 9:50 that morning, the O2 tank was empty. I hadn’t thought to check it before putting it on him. His pulse ox was going down quickly. I called his name. The doctor came over and tried to resuscitate but couldn’t. Mouth to mouth wouldn’t work because of the damage to the trachea, neither did chest compressions. She told me he was gone. I fell apart.

For four days I prayed to God not to take him from me. For three nights I slept very little. Just like that, my best friend left me.

Which brings me to why I am writing this. It turns out those two dogs had alerts on their charts that their kennel needed to have a lock on it because they could flip the latch. I missed it. I was the reason my best friend died.

I had some losses earlier in the year, and they broke my heart, but I was not responsible for them. I AM responsible for this.

I went home that day and sobbed. All I could think of was that I killed him. My carelessness cost a life. Not just a life, but my best friend’s life. I didn’t know how my practice owner could even look at me. He was, after all, her cat. Saying I’m sorry just didn’t cut it.

That day I changed. I suffer from (non-diagnosed) depression and anxiety. This almost killed me. Literally. My thought process was not “I can’t take it anymore,” it was “I don’t deserve to live.”

It’s a struggle every day to stay out of or veer away from the darkness that is in my head. Some days I’m more successful than others. When I’m not successful, the darkness can last for days or weeks and just get darker. The guilt I carry, I will carry for the rest of my life.

I’m still here. It has been a struggle. Every. Damn. Day.  August 16^th I probably would have died along with my best friend, but I am a fighter. The demons and darkness will NOT win. They get the upper hand at times, but I fight back and I fight hard.

The following Monday, a client who had a dog that frequently boarded with us came in. She didn’t have the dog with her. She asked to talk to me. She told me that she just wanted to tell me in person that they had to euthanize their boy. He was a senior and it was just time. She thanked me for the care I gave him while he stayed with us and told me how grateful they were for the kindness I showed him and them when he started going downhill and couldn’t get up or walk very well. The lady came directly from that euthanasia appointment. She and her husband flipped a coin to see who was “going to tell Dawn”.

This is one reason I am still here. For all that I lost, and all the demons and darkness I fight, it’s the people who truly know how much I care that keep me going. This is my passion. This is my reason.

When you think about suicide, don’t always assume the person just can’t take it anymore. Sometimes, we just think we don’t deserve to live. But I do. YOU do. It may not seem like it at times but fight. FIGHT HARD! There are so many pets and pet parents out there that will thank you for sticking around.

My story is not ending. YOUR story should not end.

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If you are having thoughts of suicide, text 741-741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor right away or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

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.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dawn is originally from Springville, NY. She moved to Arkansas in 2005 and found her passion for the animal field when she started at Best Friends Pet Clinic in Ft Smith AR in 2007. She has been with the same clinic for 12 years now. Dawn started as a kennel assistant and is trained in assisting in rooms, surgeries, front desk, and has been the Practice Manager for the past two years. Outside of work, she enjoys her children and grandchildren, crafting, and reading. She has 3 dogs and a cat.

Suicide in veterinary medicine is rampant, and one of the two most common means of suicide among veterinarians is pharmaceutical poisoning¹. In cases where suicide is an impulsive decision [in one study, 48% of suicide attempt survivors said they made an attempt within 10 minutes of making the suicide decision²], restricting access to lethal medications so that they cannot be accessed quickly or privately by a single person will save lives. “Four-eyes” systems (i.e., systems that require two people to access lethal medications) are the norm in human healthcare, inexpensive and quick to implement, and have the added benefit of reducing the risk of opioid addiction and drug diversion within veterinary clinics.

The most common criticism of “four-eyes” drug restriction (aside from the obvious problem of utilizing a system requiring two people in practices where one veterinarian works alone), is that it does not address the underlying causes of suicide — and thus it is useless. Let me say that I agree with the first part of this assertion as completely as I disagree with the second.

It’s true that restricting access to lethal drugs doesn’t address ongoing problems like low pay, high debt, compassion fatigue, long hours, work overload or poor work-life balance. Suicide in veterinary medicine is a complex, multi-factorial, individual-specific problem. Initiatives to address its underlying components have been underway for years with varying amounts of success, and yes, we must keep striving to solve each of these issues if we want to save lives. Absolutely.

Four-eyes systems are not intended to address these underlying causes. Rather, they focus on another key moment where lives can be saved — interrupting the pharmaceutical poisoning suicide process. While we work on eliminating the root causes of suicide, four-eyes systems allow us to do something else in addition: to save some lives right now.

Of course, I’m realistic enough to know that four-eyes systems are not perfect by any stretch and may not be able to make a difference in every case — or even in the majority of cases. They are not a panacea for ending suicide. However, they offer a clear, cause-neutral action step that can be taken by practices AND used in coordination with any and all efforts to address underlying causes. If there are multiple approaches to preventing the deaths of our colleagues, why wouldn’t we use them all?

Restricting access to lethal drugs does not, in any way, prevent us from researching or addressing the mental illness in our profession. Instead, it stimulates discussion within practices and works as one part of a multi-modal treatment strategy that our profession must continue to develop to truly turn the tide of suicide among veterinary professionals.

Compare using four-eyes systems, if you will, to wearing a seat belt. Seat belts do not solve the underlying causes of auto accidents, but we wear them because horrible accidents do happen, and we want to improve the chances of survival for ourselves and our loved ones. At the same time, we can agree that it’s imperative to continue research into building safer cars, reducing collisions, and preventing people from texting while driving.

The same logic applies here. Restricting access to lethal medications does not solve the underlying causes of depression and mental illness in our profession. It does, however, increase the chances of someone we care about living until we can get them the help they need. This isn’t about “or.” It’s about “and.”

The path to a better, healthier profession isn’t a short or easy one. We must continue to address the underlying causes of mental illness in this profession. Those who have ideas about ways to do this should take action, with the rest of us offering support as we are able. Meanwhile, we need to be willing to make simple, lifesaving changes, even if no single action will solve every problem.

1. //avmajournals.avma.org/doi/full/10.2460/javma.254.1.104?rel=0&
2. Suicide prevention by limiting access to methods: A review of theory and practice – Julia Buus Florentine, Catherine Crane – Social Science & Medicine 70 (2010) 1626–1632

The topic of suicide is a potential trigger for those struggling with feelings of guilt after the loss of a friend, colleague or loved one. If you are experiencing these emotions, please reach out for support. You may also find related resources here.

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 have been given the opportunity to join a very elite club. It involves long days, sometimes even longer nights, sick patients literally falling from the ceiling with a slow appointment slot or two squeezed in between. Do you join? Or rescind the invitation that has been thrust upon you?!? You didn’t ask for this, but you know it happens every year. The crazy days of summer are here! But wait… they have been here for some of us, for the past two months or so. The month of May brings the end of the school year to a close and kicks off the beginning of summer break for most of us. How do we survive and stay sane?

May is a roller coaster of busy days and lagging hours. One day is slow, will it stay the same? Not likely, it’s probably because it’s the end of the school year, field day, end of the year parties and awards programs are your client’s priority. The next day it is slammed, boarding at maximum capacity, no appointment left empty! What has happened? School is out, people are home with their children and pets. Most importantly for them, summer vacation has started.

Truth be told, this is not “vacation time” in the field of veterinary medicine. If anything, many of us dread the summer months and the craziness it brings. How do you cope? Do you build up defenses over the years? Learn how to survive and pass your knowledge onto the younger ranks? Help your peers through the day with your words of wisdom? What is your secret? Care to hear mine?

Bring snacks and stay hydrated.

Food is love here in the South. Make a coffee run. Cupcakes are always a big hit! Water with fruit is a refreshing way to increase your water intake. Sometimes we get so sugared out it defeats us. A nice fruit or veggie tray hits the spot more often than not. Get a vendor to provide an ice cream truck or a food truck for your staff.  Just ask. They will do it! I promise! 

Laugh and try to relax when you can.

Laughter is truly the best medicine some days. Play music in your treatment area and sing along when the mood hits you. Pass the baton and let your co-workers pick their favorite station each day. Do you have a prankster amongst your staff? How many videos have we all watched, witnessing people playing jokes on their co-workers? Let that tiny DVM climb into the supply closet and jump out at the next person who opens it! Just don’t forget to let her out.

Take that puppy or kitten room or that healthy yearly appointment.

Let them make you smile and lick your face! See the family’s joy when you ask them where their new puppy came from and if he is fitting in well.  Scratch that cat behind the ears and let her head butt you while purring so loud you can’t even hear yourself think. 

Be positive.

I know it is hard and sometimes it sucks to be the cheerleader all of the time. But, your peeps need to hear your positivity. Keep up the kudos and “good job” comments. Know that all shifts will come to an end. In all honesty, someone is looking up to you I would bet. Show them the rockstar you are and that you do not let the hectic summer days get you down. You are better than the craziness that is walking through your clinic door and can handle anything thrown at you.

Take time for yourself.

Do you enjoy exercising? A quiet walk in the morning before your shift starts or an evening jog might just hit the spot. Yoga fanatic? Remember to make time to fit in that new class you have been wanting to try. Splurge and get yourself a pedicure. A massage. Eyeing those new shoes? Go for it. You deserve them. My go-to is a hot bath at the end of the day. I relax with a good book and a glass of wine or coffee depending on what I have going on the next day. I love dark chocolate, that is my weakness. A little piece here and there goes a long way. Try to fit in your decompression time as you can. Do not forget yourself. You are important, too. If we do not take care of ourselves, we cannot take care of our patients and clients. They need us just as much as we need them. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jamie Rauscher is a Registered Veterinary Technician and Medical Manager of a nine doctor practice north of Atlanta. She is President of Georgia’s Veterinary Technician and Assistant Association and serves on several NAVTA committees. Her interests include pain management, sick pet care, and anesthesia as technician empowerment. She is currently pursuing her VTS in ECC.

Dr. Andy Roark and Co-host Stephanie Goss talk about the new #4eyessavelives initiative in their newest Uncharted Veterinary podcast. Goss interviews Roark about why he believes that restricting access to lethal drugs can save lives in veterinary medicine. The duo discusses the reasons this approach makes sense, how to implement it into your own practice, and also the criticisms that have been raised of the movement.

This podcast contains detailed discussion of suicide and suicide methods. If you are having thoughts of suicide, text 741-741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor right away or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Listen here:

The topic of suicide is a potential trigger for those struggling with feelings of guilt after the loss of a friend, colleague or loved one. If you are experiencing these emotions, please reach out for support. You may also find related resources here.

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.

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.