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Abstract

o. It was invisible to me that with each complex surgery, medicine case, or hospice discussion, my future colleague may go home and drink a bottle of whiskey just to fall asleep. Nor did it occur to me that the weight of it all may become too much, and I’d lose role models to their own hands.As a child walking the busy halls of an animal hospital, I didn’t see the weight of each day borne on my mentors’ shoulders, like some sort of parasitic backpack.No, when I walked across the graduation stage, I didn’t expect the burdened pack that would be assigned to me.Interestingly, I overlooked the fact that being a veterinarian was less about the animals and more about the people. This may sound obvious, but for some reason, when forming my goals for life, my young mind left out the reality that every pet comes attached to an owner.Half of my job consists of convincing people that what I do is necessary. The next quarter of my job involves convincing owners that the money they must spend is actually worth it. The final quarter is administering what treatment and support have been approved by the owner.Or to put it another way…Half of my job consists of convincing people that what I do is necessary for their family members. The next quarter of my job involves consoling a family who simply can’t afford what their pet needs. It involves me giving a Plan A, Plan B, and finally a plan C. The next eighth is giving what treatment and support have been approved by the owner. The final eighth involves convincing myself that I did enough.No, when I donned my cap and gown, I did not realize that by pledging my life to care for animals, I’d be donning the financial burdens of medicine as well.When I began my journey towards becoming a veterinarian, I knew that I’d be in the unique position of helping families to end their pet’s suffering in the most peaceful way possible. With humane euthanasia, I knew I would be offering a smooth transition from illness and suffering to whatever awaits.I did not realize how important the interactions with the people making these decisions would become. It would have been impossible for me to predict how much my heart would sink when I saw a long-term patient on the schedule to say goodbye.Though, it would be equally impossible for me to have predicted the sense of pride that wells under the surface when I can help a patient I’ve come to love. Nor would I have sensed the feeling of fulfillment from giving a client or friend the peace of relieving a pet’s suffering.While there are certain positives about this ability that veterinarians so uniquely hold, there are negatives too. I did not guess that I’d be doing quite so many of these procedures. I expected that each euthanasia would weigh heavy on my heart and would come at a cost to me. Some certainly do, though what strikes me as the most disheartening is that many euthanasias do not even register anymore.<p id="

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1358">No, when I accepted my first role as a veterinarian, I did not expect to become so calloused.Finally, I knew I would spend my days giving vaccines, doing surgeries, and communicating about pet healthcare with owners. I did not expect the starry-eyed kids asking for me to listen to their stuffed animal with my stethoscope, or the high school and college students asking to shadow me to see what I get to do each day.I knew that being a veterinarian was a challenging role; though, I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed walking into a job where I’d be challenged every single day. The joys of the successes in this job are unequivocal, and I can often leave work feeling that I truly accomplished something.Though I won’t exaggerate my role, I like to believe that I’ve made a difference in the lives of many people and pets so far in my career. Not all cases go as expected, nor do all client communications end up successful; but still, I can’t help but feel that I’ve had a net positive.While I’ve enjoyed my position as a role model and supporter of the community, I was not prepared for some of the cruelty that I’d seen. My training in veterinary clinics and shadowing in the profession prepared me to see what my patients would be subjected to at the hands of some of our species. However, I was not ready for what I would be subjected to.I have been slandered online, I have been called stupid, heartless, money-hungry, ignorant, and selfish. Worse, I have been accused of not caring for the very animals that I’ve pledged my entire life to care for.I’ve always had relatively thick skin, so I didn’t expect these things to bother me. Though, as time goes on, I find it adds up. Negative comments tend to be rare, but in somebody that has spent eight years of education striving to be perfect, they are the ones that stand out the most. With each patient lost, client disappointed, or expectation left unmet, I lose a piece of what made me so excited to be a veterinarian in the first place.No, when I tossed my cap into the air, I didn’t expect that it would come to represent the seemingly insignificant pieces of myself that I’d lose to this job.Veterinary medicine comes with ups and downs that are difficult to emulate in other career paths. From a very young age, my dream job was to become a veterinarian, and I was fortunate to be able to walk this path and meet my goal. Being a veterinarian is so much more than a simple means to pay the bills.No, being a veterinarian means being a healer, a helper, a savior, a reaper, a lover, a scapegoat, a role model, a failure to some, and an immeasurable success to others. It also means that for as long as I live, my job will be deeply ingrained in who I am.Thanks for reading! Robert Sedam is a small animal veterinarian hoping to shine a light on the veterinary profession by providing honest insight into some of the unique challenges that we face.</article></body>

Professional Anecdote

Separation of Work and Self

I’ve achieved my dream job, but at what cost?

To many people that I meet, I will simply care for their pets. I will be their veterinarian and nothing more. For some, this will be a decades-long relationship; whereas, for others, it may be a fleeting one to help them with an isolated issue.

Accepting the veterinarian’s oath was a step in my life that I will never regret. Everything changed from the moment the graduation cap was placed across my head and the diploma slapped into my palm. Though, by reciting my desire to, “above all, do no harm.” I relinquished some of my own rights.

When I accepted my diploma I cheered and drank a toast. We ate pizza around a crowded table filled with friends and family. I perhaps did not realize that this would be the last gathering where I wouldn’t get asked a quick question about someone’s dog’s poop, a lump that’s just appeared on their dog’s butt, or why their cat is losing weight.

No, when I became a veterinarian I traded my right to dinner without a discussion about poop… Fortunately, I can multitask.

It’s funny, I distinctly remember looking at the veterinarians that I shadowed when I was a kid and seeing a shimmer around them. They were everything. They were surgeons, they were medicine specialists, they were preventive care doctors, and they were advocates of maximum quality of life for their patients.

As a sixth-grader shadowing these veterinarians, I felt that they could do no wrong. They were there for everybody and anybody that needed help. I can remember the times when they’d stop their day to take an extra five minutes with a client who was struggling. They’d fit a pet into their schedule in order to provide them some relief before the weekend.

These people were superheroes, and they walked among mere mortals like me. I’d wanted to be Spiderman, Superman, and Batman, what difference was this aspiration — other than that Veterinary-Man doesn’t have quite the ring to it.

The component of this superhero role that was absent from my young mind was that with each accommodation made something else had to be given in exchange. To see that extra case, maybe my role models didn’t get home to see their kids. To spend that extra five minutes with somebody. Maybe it meant getting berated by the people that they’d kept waiting.

I didn’t see that by accommodating that extra patient, my friend felt she was drowning in all that she had left to do. It was invisible to me that with each complex surgery, medicine case, or hospice discussion, my future colleague may go home and drink a bottle of whiskey just to fall asleep. Nor did it occur to me that the weight of it all may become too much, and I’d lose role models to their own hands.

As a child walking the busy halls of an animal hospital, I didn’t see the weight of each day borne on my mentors’ shoulders, like some sort of parasitic backpack.

No, when I walked across the graduation stage, I didn’t expect the burdened pack that would be assigned to me.

Interestingly, I overlooked the fact that being a veterinarian was less about the animals and more about the people. This may sound obvious, but for some reason, when forming my goals for life, my young mind left out the reality that every pet comes attached to an owner.

Half of my job consists of convincing people that what I do is necessary. The next quarter of my job involves convincing owners that the money they must spend is actually worth it. The final quarter is administering what treatment and support have been approved by the owner.

Or to put it another way…

Half of my job consists of convincing people that what I do is necessary for their family members. The next quarter of my job involves consoling a family who simply can’t afford what their pet needs. It involves me giving a Plan A, Plan B, and finally a plan C. The next eighth is giving what treatment and support have been approved by the owner. The final eighth involves convincing myself that I did enough.

No, when I donned my cap and gown, I did not realize that by pledging my life to care for animals, I’d be donning the financial burdens of medicine as well.

When I began my journey towards becoming a veterinarian, I knew that I’d be in the unique position of helping families to end their pet’s suffering in the most peaceful way possible. With humane euthanasia, I knew I would be offering a smooth transition from illness and suffering to whatever awaits.

I did not realize how important the interactions with the people making these decisions would become. It would have been impossible for me to predict how much my heart would sink when I saw a long-term patient on the schedule to say goodbye.

Though, it would be equally impossible for me to have predicted the sense of pride that wells under the surface when I can help a patient I’ve come to love. Nor would I have sensed the feeling of fulfillment from giving a client or friend the peace of relieving a pet’s suffering.

While there are certain positives about this ability that veterinarians so uniquely hold, there are negatives too. I did not guess that I’d be doing quite so many of these procedures. I expected that each euthanasia would weigh heavy on my heart and would come at a cost to me. Some certainly do, though what strikes me as the most disheartening is that many euthanasias do not even register anymore.

No, when I accepted my first role as a veterinarian, I did not expect to become so calloused.

Finally, I knew I would spend my days giving vaccines, doing surgeries, and communicating about pet healthcare with owners. I did not expect the starry-eyed kids asking for me to listen to their stuffed animal with my stethoscope, or the high school and college students asking to shadow me to see what I get to do each day.

I knew that being a veterinarian was a challenging role; though, I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed walking into a job where I’d be challenged every single day. The joys of the successes in this job are unequivocal, and I can often leave work feeling that I truly accomplished something.

Though I won’t exaggerate my role, I like to believe that I’ve made a difference in the lives of many people and pets so far in my career. Not all cases go as expected, nor do all client communications end up successful; but still, I can’t help but feel that I’ve had a net positive.

While I’ve enjoyed my position as a role model and supporter of the community, I was not prepared for some of the cruelty that I’d seen. My training in veterinary clinics and shadowing in the profession prepared me to see what my patients would be subjected to at the hands of some of our species. However, I was not ready for what I would be subjected to.

I have been slandered online, I have been called stupid, heartless, money-hungry, ignorant, and selfish. Worse, I have been accused of not caring for the very animals that I’ve pledged my entire life to care for.

I’ve always had relatively thick skin, so I didn’t expect these things to bother me. Though, as time goes on, I find it adds up. Negative comments tend to be rare, but in somebody that has spent eight years of education striving to be perfect, they are the ones that stand out the most. With each patient lost, client disappointed, or expectation left unmet, I lose a piece of what made me so excited to be a veterinarian in the first place.

No, when I tossed my cap into the air, I didn’t expect that it would come to represent the seemingly insignificant pieces of myself that I’d lose to this job.

Veterinary medicine comes with ups and downs that are difficult to emulate in other career paths. From a very young age, my dream job was to become a veterinarian, and I was fortunate to be able to walk this path and meet my goal. Being a veterinarian is so much more than a simple means to pay the bills.

No, being a veterinarian means being a healer, a helper, a savior, a reaper, a lover, a scapegoat, a role model, a failure to some, and an immeasurable success to others. It also means that for as long as I live, my job will be deeply ingrained in who I am.

Thanks for reading! Robert Sedam is a small animal veterinarian hoping to shine a light on the veterinary profession by providing honest insight into some of the unique challenges that we face.