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Wellness

Finding Happiness in The Journey That is Veterinary Medicine

November 30, 2017 by Dr. Andy Roark Community

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of.  You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” Philosopher Albert Camus.

The plan was so clear when I was in my early 20’s and the comfort that came from that certainty was amazing.  I knew exactly where I needed to go and had a very specific detailed “Plan”.  I’m an organizer and I had organized my life to my end goal, or so I thought.

I approached each challenge like a mountain to climb, where each mountain was to lead me to my civilization, a place called happiness.  With my hiking boots on, backpack full of supplies, and walking stick in hand, I started on that clearly mapped trek.  At the summit of each mountain, I knew exactly which mountain to tackle next.

Undergrad, acceptance to vet school, complete first year of vet school, then second year, externships, etc.  With time, more peaks began to rise in front of me providing me with directions to go away from the clearly mapped trek.  At first it was clear the direction to follow, in time the direction became hazy.

Over time the supplies in my backpack dwindled, the stick broke some where back on mountain 8, and there I stood, at the top of yet another mountain with no idea which way civilization was.   In that moment I realized I create civilization, and that meant civilization was where ever I stood on whatever mountain I was on in that moment.

Making camp and holding my own during difficult weather or when drinking water was sparse, was not easy.  But in time I found others to camp with and I realized, I am not alone and the reality is that there is no “plan”.  It is just me and my civilization, that I create as I walk forward.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll gladly take on a difficult hike up a new mountain and at times I may have to hunker down for a wicked snowstorm.  The difference is today I embrace the struggle, because I know the struggle is the path to my happiness. The “plan” is vague, and that is okay.  Reality is hard and in fact can suck at times, and that is okay too.

I’m content because I have a vision in mind, and this vision is nothing like I’m mindlessly running around a mountain range with no clothes on hoping I don’t die of exposure.  The path is not a “plan” but in fact the one I choose, and now I enjoy civilization along the way.

Another way to look at the mountains is the concept of The Backwards Law noted by philosopher Alan Watts (The Wisdom of Insecurity published in 1951).  The more effort we put into climbing those mountains to find civilization, the farther the civilization is to us.  In other words the harder we work to find happiness, the more unhappy we become. As you dig into this concept Watts shares we can see that pain is a way that can lead us to having a better awareness of a more desirable path, however without the pain we do not know the path to contentment.

Each mountain along the way has both negative and positive aspects.  In order to continue toward the peak of a mountain or relax into a valley, we must embrace them both.  The beautiful open meadow with freshwater is easy to embrace, the agonizing incline scampering over large boulders, not so much.

We value the meadow because of the experience we had with the incredibly intense incline and we welcome the incline away from the meadow knowing that another vista of amazing beauty is to be provided to us at the top of that incline.  We do not stop at the peak, we look for the next meadow to explore and the next incline to tackle.  That is life. We look at the negative as not bad and the positive as good, but that in fact both are part of us that are equally required and without them both, there is no us.

On this journey through the mountains there is a start point (birth) and an endpoint (death) with countless important steps along the way.  Often we make adjustments when we have determined that we started up the wrong mountain or perhaps the valley is too steep.  Each of those steps is valuable and important in working to come to the “endpoint”.  We can’t skip a step, nor linger at one for too long, in the end we keep moving forward, tackling each new mountain.

In addition, the goal is not about the end result, death, it is all the steps along the way.  I mean we are not born only to look forward to death.  We are here to enjoy each of those steps and embrace the uncertainty that comes from the fact that we don’t know what step 10 could hold, while we are involved with step 5.

We know we are moving towards that future step, but it is unclear and uncertain what that looks like.  That is where happiness lies, because happiness is not a “plan” we develop, it is actually the value in each step as they present themselves, some related to positive moments and others negative.  When we accept uncertainty, things become all that more clear and comfortable.

Step 10 is where one maybe today, and step 20 is in the distance, maybe even many mountain ranges away, we work to embrace the uncertainty of its place.   Following core values and passion allows us to have confidence we are on the path we should be on. With each mountain we tackle we work on creating our civilization as we go, embracing both the positive and negative aspects of the path, and we take the next step into the uncertain trek that is our life’s journey.

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

Kimberly Pope-Robinson is a veterinarian life coach who started the 1 Life Connected movement, www.1lifecc.com in 2015. She is dedicated to helping the profession connect their career with their life’s passion. 1 Life Connected creates the space to give us each permission to find our unique path towards suitability in the veterinary industry. Dr. Pope authored the book “The Unspoken Life, Recognize your Passion, Embrace Imperfection, and Stay Connected” which provides a framework in helping the veterinary profession find well-being in the lifestyle we call a career.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Wellness

What Kid Number 2 Taught Me About Vet Med

September 13, 2017 by Dr. Andy Roark Community

A little more than three months ago, my husband and I were blessed to bring another little boy into the world and into our family. While our first son certainly initially turned our world upside down, I thought I had pretty much figured this motherhood thing out. I assumed one kid + one kid = 2 times the work, right?

 

I was sorely mistaken. In my new world, 1 + 1 = 17. Needless to say, I was wildly unprepared for exactly how much a second child would impact our family, our household or my career. Here are five ways the second kid has affected my viewpoint as a veterinarian:

 

1. On Clients

We’ve all heard the statistics of owners retaining only a fraction of what we’re telling them in the exam room. If they have multiple kids with them, then divide that statistical number by 5 and subtract another 7 or 8, because there is just no way they’re getting it.

 

Even if they heard it over the begging for the smartphone from the toddler, the crying from the baby and the clamor of the veterinary clinic as background ambience, they certainly can’t retain it when they’ve also filled their brains with the endless to-do list that accompanies parenthood.

 

My solution? Write. It. Down. I was already a huge fan of report cards before Baby Dos arrived. I try to quickly complete my records while the owner is checking out and present them with a one page summary using our software’s templates by the time they’re done.

 

Now, I’m taking it a step further. In addition to the printed summary, I’m emailing it to them. That way, they don’t have to worry about losing one more piece of paper, can share it quickly with their spouse or partner, and have it easily accessible when they do have an extra few minutes to review it without distraction.

 

2. On Patients

I have a newfound admiration and respect for pets in households with children. How utterly terrifying for them, right?! In our house, the arrival of our first born four years ago brought new noises, smells and schedules. Now, it’s utter chaos most of the day and night. Routine is laughable, sounds ranging from crying babies to Transformer imitations are constant, and no space in the house is sacred. While my dog doesn’t mind, food is frequently dropped.

 

Between the baby swing, bouncer and remote-control vehicles, our house is a real-life pet obstacle course. There are toys everywhere, sometimes actually falling from the ceiling (parents: if your kid asks for a splat ball, offer them literally anything else).

 

I’m lucky that my dog isn’t into chewing on non-edible things and is a low foreign body risk. My cats are currently settling into their new normal with the help of a secluded closet and some strategically placed calming pheromone diffusers. I’m hopeful the producers at NBC will consider a cat-style American Ninja Warrior experience soon.

 

That said, I look at pets in child-filled households with new respect, and new questions:

 

Dogs with GI signs: they could have eaten literally anything. From dropped food to Lego pieces, ingestion of pancreatitis and foreign body-inducing items have been on my floor more times than I care to admit. My dog definitely could have wolfed something down while my back was turned.

 

Cats with urinary issues: Where are their boxes? Do they have privacy? Are they away from the hustle and bustle? Can they get to them without being picked up by a toddler or having to climb over a PJ Masks playhouse? Do they get ANY attention or time with their adult owners? If they’re like my cat Hurricane, she’s completely terrified of coming downstairs when the kids are awake. We see her emerge from her hiding spot only late at night, and if we hadn’t arranged for a new second litterbox location upstairs, I’d be doing even more laundry and cleanup.

 

Pets with possible pain: In a house with kiddos, anything is possible. I am hyper-sensitive to the potential injury of either canine or tiny human in my own house. Despite extensive precautions, it’s still happened on both ends. The behavior of a child and the behavior of a scared or hurt pet are equally unpredictable, and when put in a confined space together, accidents can’t be entirely avoided.

 

In a split second a child could intentionally or unintentionally hurt a pet by picking them up, stepping on them, attempting to love on them and invading their space, or a million other possible scenarios.

 

If pain is potentially on the table, we have to treat it, and we have to prevent it in older pets that may be more sensitive. It’s our job as veterinarians to protect not only animals, but their people and the public as well. Pain control has always been a no-brainer for me, but I now see how quickly and easily these accidents could happen, and how someone, two- or four-legged, could get hurt.

 

3. On colleagues

Man, I love my work family. I have truly been so lucky. I’m back to work after my maternity leave, and my entire team has been exceptionally accommodating to my new schedule as my husband and I are figuring out how to best juggle two jobs, child care and extra-curriculars. Before our second son arrived, if one of us wasn’t able to do daycare pickup, the other was usually free.

 

Now, that person likely has the other kiddo, or is pulling a later work shift to accommodate our new schedules. Between summer camps, daycare, doctor visits, two work schedules and family commitments, I had to break down and buy an actual planner. Now, I’ve got the written planner, a refrigerator calendar, and the most elaborate color-coded, ultra-synced Google calendar you’ve ever seen.

 

How it affects my relationship with my co-workers: I’ve already run late a handful of time and had to switch several shifts with my colleagues to accommodate this new life, and we’re only three months in. My receptionists have been awesome about scheduling me breaks to pump.

 

Several technicians have been kind enough to take on diaper and bottle duty on the occasions when I’ve had to bring the bambino along for some paperwork or meeting. The entire staff has been kind, understanding, and willing to help.

 

The lesson here is that not only do I have a renewed appreciation for these people, but the realization that, if at all possible, I need to be flexible in accommodating their schedules and supportive of their outside lives too. Since my return, I’ve been trying to pick up any shifts or make any schedule trades that I can with my colleagues.

 

In addition to it being common courtesy, it’s clear that the possibility of a kiddo doctor appointment, school event or change in babysitter availability is now doubled, and it’s likely I’ll need to call on them for a favor soon.  I’m hoping that by building up this “schedule karma,” the generosity and patience of my colleagues will continue.

 

4. On Continuing Education

Hi, my name is Caitlin, and I’m a huge nerd. I love continuing education events, from the lunch and learns/dinner lectures to the local specialist lectures to the national conventions. I love learning about new products, new research and ways I can bring better care to my patients. But now…. it’s not as easy for me to justify taking time away from my family.

 

Don’t get me wrong– the interest and the desire to learn is still there. And sure, my husband can handle both boys for a few hours for a dinner lecture. But for an entire three or four days? Truthfully, he totally can, but I don’t want him to have to. And I don’t want to be away from them for that long, at least not right now.

 

For the evening and weekend mini-lectures, these are sometimes still ok, but if my husband has something going on or we’ve had another weeknight activity that has disrupted our routine, I’m gonna be a hard pass on those. Sorry, reps, but babysitters don’t come cheap these days and while I’d love to learn, if I’m paying a sitter I’m going to be somewhere with live music and cold beer.

 

My new solution? I’m still going to conferences, because that’s part of my actual job, and I do love them. But, sometimes the kids and hubby are going to come too, like they did when I recently went to AVMA and a recent state lecture. And online webinars are my new friend…but on the replay. Lately I’ve found myself registering for webinars but missing them at their launch time. Luckily for most of them, I’ve been able to catch the replay after the kiddos are in bed and I could finally relax.

 

5. On Scrubs…

Can we just say how awesome it is to have a profession in which it is perfectly acceptable to essentially wear glorified pajamas to work? I have a new found appreciation for a scrubs-only wardrobe, because, despite the breastfeeding, seemingly endless walk/bouncing of a newborn around my living room and literally climbing a tree after my four-year old, the LB’s  just aren’t falling off like they used to and I need that extra stretchy waistband. #takemymoney #dotheymakesscrubswithspanx

 

Having a second child has definitely affected my viewpoints on many things, including how I view aspects of my job as a veterinarian. I’m taking it day by day and enjoying both the quiet moments and the chaos because I know it won’t last forever. Someday soon I’ll long for the squishy cheeks and the requests to cuddle up and watch Lego Batman (again). So in the meantime, I’ll keep plugging along and work every day to be a little bit better of mom and veterinarian.

 

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.


Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Perspective, Wellness

Decision Fatigue: Our Daily Mental Crossfit

September 13, 2017 by Katie Berlin, DVM

We hear a lot about compassion fatigue these days, and rightly so. We are all more aware of the potential toll our work can have on us and on all aspects of our lives outside work. But we can’t use compassion fatigue as an umbrella encompassing all of our feelings. It’s a wide-reaching issue but only one of many we face.

I’d like to talk about a different type of fatigue – the invisible and often misattributed exhaustion that comes from the constant, pervasive, unrelenting decision-making we vets do. Every. Single. Day. All-day. In physiological terms, if we work a muscle “to fatigue,” it means we work it until it physically cannot do the work anymore, and tasks that would normally be very easy are suddenly much more difficult because of the amount we’ve just asked it to do.

The same happens when we have to make choice after choice until our choice-making apparatus is worn out. Social psychologists call this “decision fatigue.” It’s the mental equivalent of the way you couldn’t sit down on the toilet the morning after you tried Crossfit.

We all know the routine – we take a deep breath, open the hospital door, and before we can put our things down, we have someone waiting to ask us a question, Post-its or faxes on the desk, lists of calls from clients asking for the next step, for a prescription refill, for permission to skip the recheck.

Behind the first exam room door is an anxious owner with a sick pet and little money, asking us to prioritize testing and treatment to minimize cost and maximize results. A simple wellness appointment with a reluctant owner becomes a long conversation about which preventive care is most important. A client calls asking to be fit in and is approved, but then another calls, and another.

Do we see them? Send them? Tell them it can wait? A cat with advanced periodontal disease is asleep on the table and we have to decide on her behalf which teeth are compromised enough to warrant extraction. An oozing vessel mid-spay will probably stop… unless it won’t. Do we go after it? Are those liver values elevated enough to worry? Is it too soon to start steroids? Too late to stop antibiotics?

And on… and on… and on. That’s a tiny fraction of the decisions we make at work in a typical day, and they all matter. To the clients and animals involved in each one, they matter A LOT. Of course we’re tired! But that’s the job, right? That’s what we get paid to do, and doing it earnestly, honestly, openly, and with a smile is what keeps people coming back to us.

We may not be able to control the number or the nature of decisions we need to make every hour, every minute even, with regard to patient care and client satisfaction. But research has shown that ANY decisions we need to make during a given day will sap our resources until we reach a point where we just can’t make decisions reasonably, cheerfully, or rationally anymore. That’s decision fatigue, and in my opinion it’s a HUGE contributor to burnout in this profession.

The solution, according to experts, is to do everything you can to minimize decisions you need to make in situations you CAN control. Something as simple as wearing essentially the same clothes to work every day or eating the same thing for breakfast can make you less edgy, more confident, and more able to concentrate your decision-making energy on things that come up unexpectedly.

I have struggled with decision fatigue for most of my adult life, I think. It just didn’t have a name, or I didn’t know it. I still struggle. What helps one person might be different from what helps another.

These things have really worked for me:

  • Have a “work uniform.” I haven’t stressed about what to wear in the morning since I was in my 20s and worked in an art museum. People notice and judge what you wear in an art museum. Now I wear a white coat over top of the same pants and shirt in different colors every day and no one cares. Win!
  • Meal prep. You don’t have to know about “macros” or be one of those Instagram people who show photos of their 26 Tupperware containers full of quinoa with kale and perfectly cubed sweet potatoes to benefit from a little advance planning. “Meal prep lite” has changed my life. Deciding what to eat takes a huge amount of mental energy.
  • Schedule workouts and errands ahead of time. Write down a time and place. Then be there. No dithering.
  • Make as few decisions in the morning before work as possible. Set the coffee maker on a timer. Put your work clothes out the night before, and also use that time to pack lunch and a bag for whatever you need to do after work.

You can also do small things to reduce daily decision-making you have to do at work. For instance, state number of refills on approved prescription requests. Summarize complex case findings in an alert for yourself if you know you’ll forget the details by the time you get the update you asked for in a month. Take a short break at lunch, if you can, to step away from the barrage of requests for seemingly small decisions that will “just take a minute.” Delegate any decisions you can legally, ethically, and comfortably pass on.

It’s OK not to do it all yourself. Ask your fellow vets, technicians, client care specialists, and supervisors to brainstorm with you on ways to make as much of the daily routine as automatic as possible. The entire team is affected by the short tempers, indecisiveness, and second-guessing that arise from too many judgment calls with too little mental rest.

I’m guilty of letting decision fatigue get the better of me many, many times without realizing what was really going on. Knowing it exists and that we are all susceptible is a huge help. Talking with your team about it means better understanding if you feel overwhelmed, and more empathy from you if it’s one of them who’s starting to snap.

Sometimes all a person needs is to hear, “This is what I would do – what do you think?” or maybe, “I’ll tell her you’ll call back later. You don’t have to decide this now.” By knowing this is a real phenomenon and communicating openly with one another before things get out of hand, we can make everyone’s load just a little bit lighter.

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.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Life With Clients, Wellness

Why This Introvert is Wiped After Each Shift

September 1, 2017 by Lauren Smith, DVM

I am an introvert. If you’re reading this post, you might be too. Introverts are abundant in veterinary medicine. Many of us chose this field because animals made us feel connected to the world without the constant “work” of being around people. As it turns out, people are as big a part of this job as animals are. Most days it’s one part cuddling, two parts medicine, three parts grief counseling and four parts customer service. Just look at my typical day:

I walk into the clinic at 8:45 and am immediately bombarded with questions. A boarder has diarrhea, should we start him on ID? Buffy’s Mom is here for a Proin refill but we’re out of stock, what should we do? Once I’ve addressed those, I round on hospitalized patients. I check the EMR and see that I have 14 items in my inbox. I go through them, marking the negative heartworm tests as reviewed and making sure there isn’t anything emergent. I’m left with eight calls to make.

The first appointment is a family with a lab puppy. I get down on the ground and “ooh” and “ahh” with enthusiasm. I ask questions about how long they’ve had the puppy, how the little girl is enjoying her new friend and how the housebreaking is going. I give the puppy an exam and begin explaining vaccine protocol and basic preventative care. I talk about feeding and training. Once I’ve answered all the family’s questions, I say goodbye and take a few minutes to write up my records.

The next appointment is a 12-year-old Yorkie who’s been coughing. I go over the history and ask a few more questions before starting my exam. He’s got a grade four heart murmur and a heart rate of 180. I tell the client my suspicions but explain the need for chest x-rays to confirm. He’s got a vertebral heart score of 12, an enlarged right atrium and a perihilar interstitial pattern. I put the patient in oxygen while I go back to the exam room to talk to the client. I explain the pathophysiology of congestive heart failure, the treatment and the prognosis. The client already knows most of this because his father passed away three months ago from CHF, he tells me. I give my genuine sympathies and spend a few minutes listening and offering some comforting words before I have to move on. A quick glance at the clock shows me what I already know—I’m falling behind. I put off writing my medical records and head into the next exam room.

I see seven more appointments that morning. I ask detailed histories, go over differential diagnoses, explain the importance of diagnostic tests, go over results, explain pathophysiology, and advise clients on treatment options. I also hear about vacation plans, kids’ graduations and sick family members. I gush over Callie’s unique markings and Jake’s blue eyes.

I finish morning appointments at 12:30, and have only written up four of my medical records. I check my inbox and see I’m back up to 11 calls. Nothing is urgent so I head to the break room and take 30 minutes for lunch.

At one, I head back down to the treatment room to get started on some callbacks. I get through five of them before it’s time to start my cat dental; a break from the abundance of social interactions that morning.

Afterwards, I call the client to let them know surgery went well and that Pineapple is awake. I write up the dental report, then look at my inbox—the six from before the dental are now nine. I alternate returning calls and catching up on my medical records.

My evening is a lot like my morning, except in addition to nine more appointments, I have to discharge the cat dental and the CHF dog who was luckily stable enough to go home. Appointments go smoothly and I managed to finish on time. I called back three clients I hadn’t been able to get ahold of earlier, along with four more that had called over the course of the evening. At 8:45, 12 hours after I arrived at work, I get to head home; physically and mentally beat.
I am not complaining about my job. I am truly interested in making sure my clients understand what’s going on with their pet’s health. I genuinely empathize with their family circumstances. My interest is real but it’s exhausting.

For those of you who aren’t clear what it means to be an introvert, it means that social interactions use up our mental energy. But just because interacting with others is “work” doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it.

I can enjoy being around people, but for every hour I spend doing so, I need two hours of alone time to recharge. That means after a 12 hour work day like the one above, I need a full 24 hours of recuperation. And after three or four shifts in a row, I need all weekend to myself. I don’t want to go out to a bar with my friends; even texting them back feels exhausting. And forget dating—I can’t even muster up the energy to type a response to my newest connection on Bumble.

I give my all to my job because I love it. But at the end of a long week, it really does feel like I’ve given it my all. Like I’ve drained myself so thoroughly that I have nothing left to put towards social relationships.

To my friends and family, I hope you can understand and forgive me when I seem to disappear for a while, or take two days to respond to your text. I promise to keep trying to find the balance and do my best to be a better friend.

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.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Wellness

Are You a Model or a Martyr?

August 23, 2017 by Dr. Andy Roark Community

It is one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to instilling wellness into the veterinary profession… veterinary care providers who would rather be a martyr than model good behavior for their colleagues and staff.

I’ve seen it all too often: the veterinarian who always stays late to see the end-of-the-day emergency, the technician who picks up all the extra shifts when someone else can’t work, or the administrator who insists on planning every group event for the hospital.

The wording I hear most commonly in these situations is “well, someone has to do it” or “nobody else will do it”.  However, it seems to me that if that same person did not agree to do it, then someone else in the practice would have to!  More commonly than not, I have the sense that these veterinary care providers are “taking one for the team” over and over again, rather than letting someone else step up to the plate.  They prefer to be the martyr, rather than modeling healthy behavior for others.

So, what do I mean when I use the term martyr?  By definition, Merriam-Webster says that a martyr is a person who sacrifices something of great value for the sake of a principle.  I would argue that when veterinarians and technicians fail to set boundaries between work and life (i.e., leaving work on time when possible, not answering work email on the weekend, not giving out personal cell phone numbers) that they are sacrificing their lives for the practice of veterinary medicine.

And while I love this profession just as much as most of us, I believe it is imperative that we foster a life outside of the work that we do.  Specifically, participating in hobbies or activities that have nothing to do with veterinary medicine (or even animals, for that sake!).

A martyr can also be described as a victim or a great and constant sufferer.  In many ways, I think this concept relates to veterinarians and technicians as well.  In the past, I have posted articles on social media advocating for self-care, sleep hygiene, or other tips for veterinary care provider wellness.

What I often see written in response is nothing short of disheartening…comments that resemble “well, I work 16 hours 7 days each week and have no time for such activities” or “if you would just get rid of all of the nasty clients and rude co-workers, all of my problems would go away”.  Sounds like victim mentality to me…

I am not saying that as veterinary care providers we do not have a difficult job.  Yes, we can deal with difficult owners, we can clash with certain co-workers, and we can be subject to multiple instances of moral distress whereby we are forced to do things that are against our moral and ethical values (e.g., euthanizing an otherwise healthy animal because an owner cannot afford medical care).

However, there is a lot that we can do to protect ourselves and foster resilience and well-being in this profession that offers many wonderful moments as well (i.e., think of the last patient that you saved or the last client that sent you a thank you card).

Rather than constantly sacrificing our life outside of work by subjecting ourselves to 18-hour work days, less than 2 weeks of vacation per year, phone calls from clients on our personal cell phones, and no self-care whatsoever, I advocate that we consider the opposite.  There is absolutely no reason to feel guilty for leaving work on time or setting boundaries around work-life balance, yet we do.

I admit that I have also struggled with the notion of doing something “just for me”, which can feel like letting my team down or not doing “enough”.  But this mindset must change or we are not going to be able to sustain ourselves in this profession.  We know too well what happens when we work more than 12 hours without drinking water, eating food, going to the bathroom, or stopping to breathe… co-workers are exposed to our “hangry” behavior, clients start to notice, and mistakes happen.

I urge everyone as veterinary care providers, especially those in a leadership role who can set the tone for the hospital culture…please model healthy behavior for your team.  Take all the vacation time that is allotted each year.  When you finish your work on time, leave work on time rather than getting sucked in to another case or conversation.

Make time for self-care activities such as eating healthfully, exercising regularly, socializing with friends, connecting with loved ones, and getting the recommended 7+ hours of sleep each night.  Let’s support each other and not look down on others who set boundaries and choose life over work.

Rather than compete in conversations about who has it worse, let’s engage in discussions about how we can make it better.

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.


Riley NewsonAbout the Author

Marie K. Holowaychuk, DVM, DACVECC is a small animal emergency and critical care specialist and certified yoga and meditation teacher who also has an invested interest in the health and well-being of veterinary professionals. She organizes Veterinary Wellness Workshops & Retreats for veterinarians, technicians, and other veterinary care providers. To sign up for newsletters containing information regarding these events and veterinary wellness topics, please click here. More information can be found at www.criticalcarevet.ca.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Wellness

Why Your Lunch is a Really Big Deal

August 18, 2017 by Dr. Andy Roark Community

Can we talk about lunch for a moment? I know, I know: “Ha! What’s that!?” Lunch – or its lack thereof – is treated as some sort of insolvable problem in veterinary medicine: “That’s just the way the work is”, “Animals don’t get sick to schedule.”

 

 

There are busy and stressful days in clinical work, but it shouldn’t be the norm to approach these without a clear head, fueled by food and breaks. We laugh or shrug ruefully when anyone mentions lunch, and then – in the next breath – wonder why we struggle with mental health in veterinary work.

 

As a veterinary communication and resilience trainer, I see the hidden costs of having a clinic work-stream which fails to consider staff wellbeing. Employers come to me asking for advice, and I listen patiently as I hear: “You can’t get the staff these days” or “We have a new associate and she can’t cope with the stress.”

 

I hear tales of high staff turnover, and complaints of poor client skills. And I’ll ask the speaker: “What’s your policy on lunch?” Cue a confused look – most people look like I’ve just started speaking in fluent Mandarin. I’ll explain that although lunch isn’t the only factor involved in employee wellbeing, it’s a really good starting point.

 

So, let me ask you this: How often did you get lunch in the last month? To be clear, I’m going to define this as:

  • A meal/packed lunch with at least three food groups
  • A place to sit down
  • 15 minutes of uninterrupted time (i.e. no requirements to think/ listen/ make decisions related to work)

 

Is it common for you to get this time? Did you answer “never” or “rarely”? If you’re an employer, how often do your staff sit down and eat? Let’s park for the moment that it’s just “nice” to feel fed, to remove hunger. There are also reasons why it’s simply good practice policy. Consider some of these points from the literature:

  • Low glucose levels affect our self-control resources
  • Low glucose levels can lead to physiological fatigue, decreasing our ability to listen
  • Prolonged periods without food have been linked to decreased cognitive function
  • Prolonged periods without food can reduce our ability to behave within socially acceptable norms
  • Prolonged periods without food has been linked to increased visits to the human ER

 

A habitual absence of lunch is thus not just something to “suck up”, it sets the clinic staff up to make mistakes, struggle with communication, and increases the chances that they’ll tell a client or colleague to “Take a hike!”.

 

Veterinary staff will take lunch if they are given the time and can see that it is the norm in the clinic. So my message is to veterinary employers, those in charge of the rota and managing the workflow: Let them eat lunch! If your clinic website promises “compassion”, “excellent customer service”, or “highest quality practice”, then you need to let your staff eat lunch.

 

What does that look like in real life?

 

  • If lunch is not “the done thing” in your clinic, you’ll need to address the culture. If you have a lead role in the clinic, then role modelling works – so have lunch, and others will follow.
  • Enlist the team to make it work. Brainstorm ideas to get those 15 minutes into the schedule. Some clinics block off appointments, create a mini “on-call” system at lunchtime, or reschedule clients when days get slammed.
  • Wellbeing experts recommend that teams take lunch together where possible. Spending time together (but keeping work issues out of the conversation) can build staff resilience. A designated “quiet corner” in the staff room is useful for those times when individuals don’t want to chat.
  • Make lunch a team task. Each individual has a responsibility to make time for lunch, but also to support others. If you’re getting to 2pm, 3pm and you notice someone hasn’t had a break, step in to help them do this. It’s just four words: “Have you eaten yet?”
  • Be cautious about lunchtime practice meetings or training sessions. “Lunch and learn” works well for some, but work psychology tells us that individuals manage their energy in unique ways. A 45-minute meeting often works just as well as one that’s an hour long, but also allows time alone to recharge for afternoon consults for those that need it.

 

If you’re finding yourself challenged by this idea of lunch, or wondering if I’m making too big a deal about it, consider this: Do you like your airline pilots to be well rested? Would you prefer that your surgeon or your child’s paediatrician has eaten in the last eight hours? It’s a culture shift, and we are launching a repast revolution: Let them eat lunch!

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.

 


Riley NewsonAbout the Author

Jenny Moffett is a veterinarian, communication trainer and life coach all rolled into one. She is MD of the personal and professional development company SkillsTree, and lives near the second-best leprechaun museum in Ireland.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: Team Culture, Wellness

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