Note:

While the initial goal of this blog was to continue to add depth to the narrative of women in the outdoors it has started to evolve to include other areas of life. We are all multifaceted aren’t we!? While I believe this initial goal to still be very important, and will continue to include aspects of adventure and outdoor experiences, the evolution of my writing is equally as important to me. Sometimes outdoor adventures take a back seat in life, but I would like my writing to continue without forced agenda or guilt. You will likely start to see writing on topics including my profession, van life, issues of social justice, and feminism. If you are interested in following along more closely, please consider joining my email list. You will be the first to receive notification of a new blog post and will not be spammed or emailed otherwise! :)

This post will start a series on topics relating to veterinary medicine (Veterinarian In Real Life), the truths of our profession - the challenges we face personally and as a profession, as well as, the rewards of what we do. 

Like many of us, it was my love of animals that drew me to Veterinary Medicine. It seemed like the likely profession for someone interested in science and fascinated by our animal kingdom [there are others FYI]. I approached this life track like I approach many other things - by outlining a plan, putting my head down, and working towards it (with blinders on) until it the plan becomes a reality. 

Throughout the whole process - the undergraduate work, the application process and the struggle of veterinary school - it was the love of animals, the love of learning and the love of science that inspired and motivated me. There is a common misconception outside veterinary medicine that you should consider this profession if you don’t want to work with people. That misconception is quickly squashed once you start the process of acquiring the degree. A large aspect of our jobs as veterinarians is directly related to humans. After all, it is a “veterinary-client-patient” relationship that we have to cultivate legally to provide any type of care to our patients.  

It really isn’t until fourth year of veterinary school where you learn if this aspect of the profession, client communication, is something that you are good at. Fourth year (sometimes the end of third year depending on your school) is your clinical year. It is, for some, the first time you are in direct contact with the clients/owners of your patients. This is where your communication skills are put to the test.  Most of the time these are skills you’ve acquired along the way. Rarely are they skills that have had focused education and practice. Client communication is not something many veterinary schools focus curriculum on (although I think this is changing) but any practicing veterinarian will tell you that it is sometimes the most important aspect of the job. No one will care about the level of medicine you practice if you can’t relay vital information to the owner who is making the ultimate decisions for their pets. Your communication skills can literally make the difference in the life or death of your patient. 

In my opinion a large part of this skill is rooted in compassion. It’s easy to have compassion for our patients, even our fractious patients. It is much harder to have compassion for our clients, especially our ‘fractious’ clients. In fact judgement is what comes the quickest and easiest especially on busy days, when stress levels are high. Especially in emergency situations where owners are often panicked, distraught and scared. It is very easy to place blame and point fingers. To judge and hold contempt. Especially when these scenarios are not unique. When they are repeated over and over. When you and the staff are on the receiving end of emotional breakdowns and raging tempers Every. Single. Day. This can whittle down even the most compassionate individuals. I’ve seen it first hand. I’ve experienced it first hand. 

It’s easy to have compassion for our patients, even our fractious patients. It is much harder to have compassion for our clients, especially our ‘fractious’ clients.

I believe that the ability to practice compassion for our clients begins with having compassion for humanity in general. Understanding that everyone processes emotions differently and some never learned how to appropriately process their emotions. Understanding that not everyone has the same experiences and opportunities in life. Understanding that life is unpredictable and things that seem sure can change in an instant (ie steady income, health, a home, etc).  It is vital that we examine and recognize our own biases and prejudices and how they are affecting our reaction to, and communication with our clients. It requires an approach steeped in compassion to hold space for and appropriately address a client’s questions and concerns. And this truly becomes a skill through continued practice. 

Unfortunately frequent expressions of compassion and expended emotional labor can also have negative personal repercussions. More and more I find myself in the role of “therapist” with my clients. Spending time (more time than I really have, working in a busy ER), listening to their stories about their pets, sometimes assuring them that euthanasia is a valid option (which I truly believe) and consoling them through the process if it comes to that. Sometimes euthanasias happen  3, 4, 5 times in a shift. [My record for euthanasias in one shift is 10]. Whether euthanasia is the topic of discussion or not, there is emotional labor spent with each client interaction. That is the nature of having compassion for your clients. I spend the time, even if I don’t have it, because it is so important to each of those lives involved. Not surprisingly it is the part of the job that clients remember, ultimately judge your competence on, and consequently appreciate the most. It is, in my opinion, the most important part of our job. 

This emotional labor can have its consequence.  You may have heard the statistics regarding the high rate of suicide in veterinary medicine. [Here is one article by Time Magazine if you haven’t]. Truly this statistic is alarming and felt personally throughout the profession. I believe that this expenditure of emotional labor can be a contributing factor (among many many other factors) to this statistic in our profession. [This is very separate and different from compassion fatigue as I understand it - psychologists/therapists, correct me if i’m wrong]. Client communication is taxing and draining and its effects can easily bleed into other areas of our lives - and that is without even taking into account the negative interactions with clients!. Truthfully this regular expenditure of emotional labor is more prevalent than I expected in this profession and I think the least discussed aspect of this job. It is an area that I feel the least educated in both in the direct skill of communication with clients and in the management of the toll it takes on myself. 

Some answers may include learning appropriate mechanisms for coping and dealing with the emotions surrounding our jobs (touting and cultivating your ‘black heart’ is not the answer), creating boundaries around work and our time, and seeking professional help in doing so if necessary.

What can we do as a profession to protect ourselves from the negative effects of this aspect of our job? What can we do as individuals to care for ourselves properly at the end of each day? Becoming less compassionate, involved clinicians and technicians is obviously not the answer. Some answers may include learning appropriate mechanisms for coping and dealing with the emotions surrounding our jobs (touting and cultivating your ‘black heart’ is not the answer), creating boundaries around work and our time, and seeking professional help in doing so if necessary. These are all learned skills and behaviors. They are not things that are inherently known and practiced.  These are things that require education and effort and prioritizing throughout the profession, by our employers, by our collages, by our selves. Sometimes the effects of this emotional expenditure required by our job are not obviously apparent to us. Having these symptoms pointed out by colleagues is sometimes necessary to bring around the initial self-awareness required to seek help. Talk to your co-workers. Let them know when you are seeing the effects in their behavior and in their attitudes. A kind word can go a long way. Support each other. The factors surrounding suicide in our profession are complex and there is no one answer to explain the statistic or ‘fix the problem’. Hopefully by continuing to further the conversation and destigmatizing mental illness, we can help to save the lives of our colleagues and ourselves. 

***if you have any topics you are interested in relating to what it means to be a veterinarian, please leave a comment below!