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Category: Student blogs

New year, new me

January brings with it an onslaught of well-intentioned gym memberships, diets and resolutions that often get forgotten fairly rapidly.

For me, my “happy new year” was tainted with uncertainty, as I had made the scary decision to leave my first job as a new graduate vet – quite literally forcing the “new year, new start” cliché on myself.

This decision was not made lightly. In fact, if I had listened to my gut feeling that things weren’t right, I probably would have left much earlier, but I stuck it out for five months. I had to be sensible – I had rent to pay. But, similarly, I was not going to stay any longer at the cost of my sanity.

Time to take action

Many of my new graduate friends also struggled at their respective workplaces to begin with, so I couldn’t help but think maybe it was just supposed to be hard. But as they all settled, and I seemed to just get more wound up with my situation, I began to accept it wasn’t right.

So, what were my options?

Address my employment concerns

Despite being advertised as a truly mixed practice, I found myself working as a TB tester virtually every day, which became unrewarding and a huge hindrance to my personal development as a vet.

I tried to address the situation, but was met with non-committal responses, such as: “Well, we are very busy with TB at the minute.” No offers of sharing it out were made, considering myself and another new graduate were carrying out all the testing. In fact, I ended up organising the whole practice’s TB equipment, paperwork and bookings.

The other issues I had were also met in a similarly non-helpful manner.

Go above the powers that be

One of the (few) advantages of working for a corporate group is you can go above the powers that be.

Although this provided a friendly listener on the end of the telephone, it didn’t actually achieve much after helping me explore the options of transferring to another practice within the group. As I was still looking for a mixed role, it came to a dead end pretty swiftly.

Hand in my notice

I was very aware my notice period tripled after I had worked at the practice for six months, so I had the choice of leaving before the six months were up or being stuck for at least nine months.

I did try addressing my employment concerns and going above the powers that be first, but I think I knew all along that, in the end, I was going to leave; it was just a question of when – before or after six months, considering the notice period, and before or after I had found another job?

Choice made for me

In the end, some timely external circumstances forced my decision – my landlord informed me he was selling his house, so I would only have a few months left of the lease anyway.

Once I came to the realisation I needed to leave, I felt relieved. This was ultimately short lived as I then faced the question of what to do afterwards – I even started to consider whether I actually wanted to look for another vet job.

But I didn’t have to look far to find some inspiration – my university friends were very supportive of my decision to leave my practice, but their stories of their own experiences were reassuring. The key was finding the right practice and being able to enjoy being a vet rather than seeing it as the stressful, unfriendly job with long hours it’s often portrayed as.

Negative into a positive

I began the job search slightly before handing my notice in – I think as a safety net, as I was still very apprehensive about being caught out with no work. I was also very concerned about how not having spent very long in my first practice would look to potential employers – would they think I couldn’t hack the pressure and gave up too easily?

My first interview this time around, however, was a massive confidence boost – my worries were ill-placed as my decision to leave my practice was only viewed as a positive move; that I was being proactive in my career development and not putting up with an environment in which I wasn’t progressing.

When more interviews and then job offers started emerging, I found the confidence to not only hand in my notice, but also to turn down offers that weren’t right for me.

Disguised desperation

We regularly hear about the shortage of vets in the veterinary press, on Facebook, through word of mouth and, for those working in understaffed practices, via first-hand experience. But nothing confirmed the veterinary employment crisis more than the poorly-disguised desperation some practices exhibited when I enquired about vacancies.

Yes, I was a little more desirable than a new graduate fresh out of university because I had worked for a few months, but I was still virtually a new graduate. If anything, I felt my skills had regressed since graduation because my confidence had been knocked so severely in my first role.

But I did know how to consult, interact with clients, break bad news, and offer and carry out euthanasia with the client in the room. These are the things you don’t really learn until you qualify; the small things that make a difference between being a startled- looking graduate in your first week being asked “is it your first day?” by a client, and a recent graduate who can give a calm impression of confidence and knowledge (even when you’re a little unsure).

It took me a while to convince myself I’d be employable enough to be picky, but with a few offers under my belt, I entered the new year jobless, but knowing so many practices out there were looking for vets.

It did, however, still take a considerable amount of moral fibre to swallow my pride and go to the job centre to sign up for jobseeker’s allowance. This was not without an added push from my ever-knowledgeable other half, who bluntly said: “You’ll be paying into it for the rest of your life, so you may as well claim it while you can.”

Daunting, but rewarding

Although it was daunting to quit one job without having something else lined up, it was the right thing to do and, inevitably, things worked out in the end. With a bit of patience and perseverance, I have now found what I think is the right job.

Although I can’t quite squash the niggling feeling it could all go wrong like the previous one, I like to think I’ve learned something from that disastrous experience, and am feeling much more optimistic.

After much reflection, I think I was just very unfortunate with my first role and a number of factors occurred that I could never have foreseen.

Take advantage

For many people, despite the new year clichés, January becomes a time of reflection. I’m not too sure about “new year, new me” but I’ve certainly ended up with “new year, new job”.

If you aren’t happy in your job, don’t be afraid to take the leap – especially if you’re a new graduate. It is so important your first job is right for you, otherwise it could scar you, and ultimately ruin your entire veterinary career.

It isn’t worth the stress of staying where you are unhappy – so many jobs are out there. It is, as they say, an “employee’s market” at the minute – take advantage of it.

January 16, 2018
Occupational hazards
Before I started vet school, I attended a workshop for aspiring vets where students shared anecdotes about the various occupational ailments they had experienced or witnessed over the years.

Despite having to defer the start my veterinary degree due to a horse-related incident, I got through university largely unscathed by veterinary-related disease. I contracted a skin infection while on placement in Bolivia, but I don’t think that was anything zoonotic.

However, some colleagues were not so lucky…

Illnesses and injuries

The various vet-student ailments that have affected friends include:
- rotavirus caught while on a dairy EMS placement
- an odd reaction to the BCG vaccine we received en masse in the first few weeks of vet school – after investigating a persistent cough, it transpired it was actually latent tuberculosis that would flare up periodically
- a mumps epidemic – while not zoonotic, the disease spread like wildfire through those who attended “Vetski” one year (a number of other skiing-related injuries were suffered on the same trip, including two damaged knees)
- the notorious cryptosporidiosis, which claimed at least one victim on every farm rotation group
- ringworm – despite having been in close proximity to cattle heavily infected with ringworm, I have avoided it thus far (the same cannot be said for one friend, who had to claim she had thrush to convince the pharmacist to sell her the necessary antifungal cream)
Appreciating dangers

TB testing – one of the most dangerous veterinary tasks.

Since qualifying, a good proportion of my work in practice has consisted of one of the most dangerous veterinary tasks – TB testing.

While I remained relatively unharmed for the first few months, I did appreciate how easy it could be to get injured, with some dodgy crushes to contend with and, often, largely unhandled beasts.

Having tested hundreds of cattle unscathed, my final test was quite eventful…

During a previous test at this particular farm, the vet had considered sedating one of the cows because it was so wild – but this time I was prepared, with sedation at the ready in case it was needed and the crush chained so the cow couldn’t go flying out the front door.

Crushed crush

Although a great deal of jumping about took place, I managed to test the cow without needing to resort to xylazine. However, the bull, which could barely squeeze into the crush, decided to stick his head under the front door and bend it nearly in half as the farmer, his son and I watched in horror.

Luckily, the bull seemed to think better of this plan and retreated before destroying the crush.

After the farmer had bashed the door back into some resemblance of its original shape, one calf somehow jumped out of the side of the crush and ended in a neighbour’s field.

First-hand experience

Just as we thought we’d had enough entertainment for one day, one of the six-month-old sucklers managed to squash my hand between it and the crush.

The world went green for a moment and I had to park myself on an upturned bucket.

Having taken a bit of a breather, we got the next calf in and I tried to continue, but the world kept spinning and I didn’t want to take my glove off to look at the damage. Feeling highly embarrassed, I sat back down and telephoned the practice for backup while the farmer went off to fetch a cup of sugary tea.

Not the only ones

An x-ray thankfully found no breaks, but a lot of swelling and bruising.

I joked with my doctor about occupational injuries, saying I didn’t suppose GPs would be likely to get into that kind of situation. However, he said he’d had a couple of knives pulled on him – one from someone demanding a prescription!

So, maybe we’re not the only medical profession at such a high risk of injury, we’re just exposed to slightly different dangers.
January 1, 2018
Breaking away from a vet’s diet of fast food

A while ago, I wrote about anorexia in vets… the stripped down, bare meaning being the clinical sign of “not eating”. As a student, I witnessed vets on placements routinely forgoing lunch or existing on a diet consisting entirely of Pot Noodles or fast food – one vet I shadowed had either a McDonalds or KFC on four of the five days.

Then, I could appreciate the lack of time and energy for cooking, but still couldn’t imagine being able to stomach so much junk food. I could not understand how you could work effectively and remain healthy while pouring so much crap into your body – and, of course, you can’t!

Isn’t it ironic that part of our job is to advise on diet and nutrition for clients’ four-legged friends, yet we don’t take our own advice?

Realisation dawns

Image © miketea88 / Adobe Stock.

As a student, there would be rare occasions I wouldn’t get lunch until 4pm or would just order a pizza through tiredness (or, more likely, from being hungover). But, on the whole, I had a pretty good diet. I exercised a lot and was organised enough to make lunch 90% of the time, so I was never stuck without food.

Yet now, as a new grad, I totally get the unhealthiness; it’s not really a matter of choice, but more a matter of pure exhaustion.

I found myself going without lunch on numerous occasions, mostly due to being stuck on farm all day TB testing, but sometimes due to being swamped with surgeries. Having not been able to stop for food all day, my first exploratory laparotomy was done after inhaling a cupcake – not the most nutritious of lunches.

24/7 shopping

There have been weeks I have consumed more takeaways or McMuffins than I am proud of, purely down to a lack of time and effort. I’m too tired to shop for food, or cook it, and I don’t want to spend all weekend meal-prepping for the week ahead, which is what my more organised, student self would have done.

It also doesn’t help that shops close early on a Sunday in England. I was definitely spoilt in Scotland, where 24-hour opening actually means 24 hours, 7 days a week.

If I cooked like I did when I was a student, my day would literally be work, cook, eat, sleep. But, to be honest, it’s not much better anyway – more like work, pick up takeaway, eat, sleep.

Maintaining a work-food balance

I do manage to get out on the bike at weekends, but not during the week, and as a former gym frequenter at uni, it gets to me sometimes that I’m becoming seriously unfit. Perhaps the answer is to get up early and go to the gym before work, but that’s not in my nature… I tried early running once, and all it did was make the day feel really long by 9am.

Mental health and well-being are constantly in the veterinary media at the moment, and, while I can empathise with my colleagues who lead the lifestyle of fast food, I’m not condoning it. This is no way to carry on. We need to try to achieve an acceptable work-life balance and, at the very least, a good work-food balance, which is something I am apparently not very good at yet.

I’m told it gets easier. Whether that means you get over being so tired all the time or just get used to it and somehow manage to power through, I’m not sure, but I hope it does – and I hope I find the energy to improve my diet.

December 1, 2017
Social media – a blessing or a curse?

An experienced vet warned me to stay off social media as a new graduate, because comparing yourself to others “drains your confidence”. I’m not sure I agree.

As with anything, there are pros and cons to the new age of communication, advertising and sharing information that is social media. Not just in veterinary, but in all walks of life, people are very good at publishing only the positive things, which gives others a very warped perception of their lives.

Bricking it

“Started a new job” or “excited for the future” have been common themes since graduation. But what you don’t see is “absolutely bricking my first day”, “maybe veterinary isn’t for me” or “I’ve moved to the middle of nowhere with no friends nearby and am seriously regretting my decision.”

Social media can fuel the feeling of isolation as a new grad because everything you see is through rose-tinted glasses – everyone else seems to be doing great and achieving so much. Now, the various platforms are not entirely to blame because it can be easy to feel that way just talking to other people in person as well.

While it is a lot easier to gather a more accurate idea of someone else’s experiences in person, you still get a certain level of one-upmanship, which does no one any favours. It’s great to meet up with uni friends to help you realise you’re not alone, provided you understand everyone progresses at different rates and in different environments.

Understanding what works for you

To begin with, I would envy the workplaces of my friends, thinking I’d somehow drawn the short straw, but having thought long and hard about it, would I want to be in their shoes? They may be thriving in their own respective environments, but I know I wouldn’t in some of their situations.

The key is understanding what works for someone else won’t necessarily work for you – and once you come to terms with that, you can use social media without having a sinking feeling every time someone posts about the latest great surgery they’ve done.

What about on a wider level? I have joined a couple of Facebook groups for qualified vets and been surprised by a number of aspects of these.

Can’t we all just get along?

Jordan has been “mortified” by the way some vets speak to their peers in certain online groups and forums. IMAGE: terovesalainen – adobe.stock.com

The motives behind these groups are genuine, offering a forum to share ideas and offer support to other members of the profession. And, on the whole, that’s what happens.

However, I have been mortified by the backlash some members have received for certain comments.

We, as a profession, are continually slated in the media for being money-grabbing insensitive con artists (which, of course, the vast majority of vets are absolutely not) and yet, in a private forum, vets are using very similar vindictive language against each other.

Some of it is barely short of cyber bullying, which is really quite sad. We get enough stick from the public, can we not try to be a little kinder to each other?

I know individual vets will disagree with others, but this can be expressed in a constructive way, not the emotive, anger infused rants we regularly encounter from the public. In this respect, I do think social media has gone sour.

Online awareness

For individual practices, it seems, at the moment, social media really can be make or break. Do not underestimate the power of social media – word travels fast: only too often do practices lose clients based on bad Facebook reviews.

But, equally, practices can try to maximise the interaction with clients through social media by posting facts, photos and offers to help educate and encourage responsible pet ownership, among other things.

While we don’t want to get too hung up on bad comments, which need to be addressed professionally and appropriately, it is important to be aware of our online presence – after all, we need to be proactive and advance with technology to keep in touch with our clients.

But how closely in touch with clients should you be?

Client friend requests

At some point in everyone’s career, the inevitable client Facebook friend request will happen. This can be tough and I have heard conflicting advice with how to respond. Some would recommend a blanket ban on client Facebook friends, which is all well and good unless you work in your home town, where a lot of your friends or family friends will be clients.

Others would recommend creating a bland profile to accept clients that doesn’t have any personal information or embarrassing photos. There’s also the option of changing your online name slightly to make it difficult for clients to find you in the first place – this is what I opted for.

Making sure your privacy settings are strict also helps non-friends see very little. I guess you just have to do what suits you without making a rod for your own back – if any client does try to message you out of hours, be strict and either ignore or refer them to the OOH number.

I think it’s safe to say social media is great in moderation, but too much of it could really get you down. We, as vets, should use it to our advantage, but try not to take it too seriously.

November 22, 2017
What to do when on call

When you’re on call during the week, by the time you’ve got home (if you get straight home without being called), eaten and vegged out in front of the TV, you do not have much time to be bored before heading to bed.

However, weekends on call have a lot more time to fill between carvings and telling the third client in a row we outsource small animal out-of-hours work.

Sleepless nights

I barely slept the first few times I was on call. Even without being called, I would toss and turn, worrying about what could be on the end of the telephone. When I eventually fell asleep, I’d wake up several times in a panic thinking I’d missed the call. I’m not a fantastic sleeper anyway, but always having half an ear open to the telephone makes things so much worse.

Jordan’s new-found feline friends have kept her company while on call.

I had been “on call” throughout university or while on externship EMS, but someone else was always there to do the triage and tell me what to do. Being the person on call is a totally different ball game. Even with backup, being the first one to speak to a panicked owner or farmer is still daunting.

The first weekend I was on call, I was paired with another vet, but fell asleep on the sofa after a morning of small animal consults, and an afternoon spent drenching and injecting sick cows.

Trapped

Since I live almost as far from my practice as is acceptable for being on call, I was scared to leave the house, not wanting to be any further away. I felt trapped, not able to go anywhere and not wanting to start doing anything constructive in case I had to drop it for a call-out.

I couldn’t go for a cycle ride or run unless I essentially stayed within a five-minute radius of home, which would be pretty boring.

I still hadn’t got round to sorting out a gym membership, so couldn’t plonk myself on a treadmill and leave when duty called. Despite having a knack for baking and cooking, I didn’t want to start anything I’d have to leave unfinished and ruin the perfect dinner or cake.

I had, however, gained some on call buddies in the form of kittens, so they provided moral support while I essentially dithered, not achieving anything while waiting for the telephone to ring.

My next weekend on call pretty much consisted of binge watching Grey’s Anatomy (yes, I know, I’m late to that game) and having a catch-up with a couple of friends, who came over to my house with the knowledge I may have to leave at any time to attend to a potential disaster. I was lucky we were not disturbed, but I still had my eye on the telephone and was half-expecting it to buzz at any moment.

Carving out pastimes

To while away the hours, Jordan combined her love of Game of Thrones with a bit of pumpkin carving and produced the House Targaryen coat of arms.

This weekend, however, I thought of something a bit more fun to do while waiting for the telephone to ring.

After a reasonable Saturday surgery and seeing to a horse’s wound, I went shopping (still within a reasonable distance) and found a pair of perfectly sized pumpkins to carve. If the telephone rang, I could stop mid-pumpkin and come back to it later – ideal.

Up for the challenge, my better half and I spent an obscenely long time on our masterpieces. I think they turned out pretty well – mine following on from a line of Game of Thrones-themed pumpkins in previous years, his reflecting the excitement for the new series of Blue Planet in the form of an angler fish.

Last resort

Someone once told me in a lecture weekends on call were good for cleaning and catching up on laundry. I have, so far, managed to avoid resorting to this, but that may well be the plan for the next one.

Before long, I expect I’ll be spending my on call weekend decorating a yet-to-be-found Christmas tree (now that’s a scary thought – how is it already that time of year?).

I’m still looking for inspiration on how to enjoy being housebound. What do you do with your weekends on call?

October 30, 2017
Aggressive patients

I’ve discussed before the massive emotional shift that seems to occur in the transition from a student to a new graduate – namely due to the responsibility – but the transition to being an actual vet also means being on the front line when it comes to aggressive patients.

As a student, you are often given the “nice” patients to practise blood sampling or catheterising – or even just examining. If a pooch utters a slight growl, the muzzle will be on, with a confident RVN holding for you at worst, but, in most cases, the vet would just take over to keep you out of harm’s way.

As such, when I started out as a “real vet”, this meant I had very little experience in dealing with the more difficult patients.

Exposure

At vet school, we were shown how to make a bandage muzzle if all else failed and practised stuffing a cuddly toy cat into a cat bag, but, again, we were rarely involved with any real-life angry cats or dogs.

Obviously, this was in the interests of our safety, and I’m not suggesting they put us in dangerous situations deliberately, but in the real vet world, we are now the ones who ultimately need to gain that blood sample, despite flailing paws and teeth.

Safe handling of aggressive, or often just scared or nervous, patients who lash out from fear is something that can only be gained from experience – which, as a new grad, is fairly limited at this point. Drawing on ideas from your colleagues and nurses is probably the best way to learn – especially for behaviour-related things that aren’t necessarily taught very well at university.

Near misses

Dealing with difficult patients on the front line is “quite a scary place to be”. IMAGE: jonnysek / fotolia.

Nearly being bitten by a little dog with severe dental disease (who could blame it for not wanting me to touch its mouth), that then seemed immune to sedation and therefore needed a general anaesthetic to even examine its mouth, was my first taste of having to make a call based on my own safety, but also the need to make an accurate assessment.

I’ve also had a few near misses with horses – in particular, one that really did not fancy a nerve block and decided to fling its front legs at mine and the other vet’s head height instead.

Support each other

Being a vet can be a dangerous job, since we work with unpredictable living creatures better equipped with natural defences than us, and often a lot bigger and heavier. We just need to help each other work as safely as possible around them. But, if you’re on your own with bared teeth, it’s still quite a scary place to be.

Just another thing to add to the list of “things they don’t teach you at vet school”.

October 16, 2017
Cats reunited

The day-to-day working life of a vet can be tough for a multitude of reasons, but sometimes it’s the simple things that make it all worthwhile – for example, something as simple as a microchip.

While dog microchipping is now compulsory, cat owners retain the freedom to decide whether they wish to chip their beloved felines.

Accident(al) reunification

Recently, a concerned member of the public brought a cat into my practice that had, unfortunately, been hit by a car. Once establishing the injuries weren’t life-threatening, on scanning the chip and searching the pet ID database, we were able to get in contact with the owner.

It transpired the cat had been missing for three years and travelled an impressive distance before coming under our care. After some emotional telephone calls, owner and cat were reunited.

But this isn’t an isolated case.

Déjà vu

Just a month previously, I was visiting another practice when a cat was bought in by a lady who’d taken it in as a stray and looked after it temporarily.

When the cat’s microchip was identified, she was more than happy to try to find its previous owner. However, the chip was registered to someone who’d given the cat to a friend. Despite, this, the person who’d last owned it was eventually tracked down.

Having been missing since 2010 – and, therefore, assumed dead and reported to the pet database – as such, they were shocked and delighted to discover the cat had resurfaced after so many years of getting up to God knows what.

Chip importance

In my short time in practice so far, I have personally witnessed these two long lost cat scenarios – on separate occasions, two felines were reunited with their respective families several years after having gone missing. The cats, having been found by members of the public, had been scanned and identified thanks to their microchips. The joy and gratitude these owners had was so heartwarming to witness.

As a cat owner who has personally experienced the trauma of having cats go missing, there is no question whatsoever of whether to chip.

Luckily, in the second case, the owner was still found, despite the details registered to the chip having not been updated. This just highlights the importance of not only chipping, but also ensuring the details registered are accurate.

However, it is surprising how many owners still don’t bother. If these anecdotes don’t persuade potential cat owners to chip their pets, I don’t know what will.

September 30, 2017
In at the deep end

Being a new grad is scary. And, although I don’t think I’ve been dropped in the deep end as much as some of my colleagues may have, I feel entirely overwhelmed the majority of the time and question several times a day whether I actually went to uni.

Starting in practice has made me realise how little I actually know…

The first challenge was getting my head around flea and worming treatments – with so many products on the shelf (yet somehow someone is still to come up with one that just kills every ectoparasite and endoparasite), where do you start? It’s ridiculous something so simple that so many vets seemingly do without thinking about is actually so complicated and never explained at uni.

Without a net

“No matter how confident I was under supervision, as soon as that safety net wasn’t there, things were much scarier.” IMAGE: retrostar / Fotolia.

Surgery is a whole new ball game too. I’ve done plenty of neutering, but always with someone there to confirm what I was doing was correct. However, on my own, scalpel in hand, I suddenly realised I had no idea what I was doing. Or rather, no matter how confident I was under supervision, as soon as that safety net wasn’t there, things were much scarier.

Consults themselves are okay – I just feel like I’m constantly in a communication skills tutorial, putting on a friendly face, trying to assure the owner their decrepit dog that is trying to eat me and of a breed I’m not keen on is just lovely.

However, it’s all the resulting admin that seems to take all the time – writing clinical notes, charging, recording batch numbers, etc. Nobody tells you at uni how much paperwork there is in the real world.

Fraudulent feelings

I feel like an imposter, blundering along, feeling entirely unqualified to give out professional advice. Any minute someone is going to tell me it was all a mistake, I’m not qualified enough to be a vet and I need to go back to uni.

And I’m getting paid for it, which feels completely alien, after years of unpaid EMS. Why would someone want to pay me for not really having a clue what I’m doing?

Some things I’m sure of (or as sure as you can be when you’re dealing with medicine and animals), but most things seem to trigger a very distant memory from vet school, leaving me wondering why I didn’t take things on board more at the time or whether I’ve actually just got a really poor memory, and how an earth I passed any exams if I can’t remember what any drugs are called.

Unfair comparisons

One of the main things I’ve come to appreciate is how good other vets are – those that are a few years qualified seem in a totally different league.

To begin with, I was despairing a bit. I felt completely inadequate compared to vets who have a bit, but not a massive amount, of experience, yet seem to be able to deal with anything. However, I’ve been telling myself that I’m not seeing the stages in between – I realised I hadn’t really come across many “just-qualified” vets on EMS (except interns), so I was comparing my ability with someone a minimum of two years out, not six weeks.

It is difficult to not compare yourself to others around you, but it only causes distress, especially if, like me, you’re a new grad surrounded by good vets.

Everyone has to start somewhere.

September 15, 2017
Language: lost (or gained) in translation?

We spend five years at vet school learning a myriad of vet jargon; a whole new language, with a fair bit of Latin thrown in too.

When you think about it, even the “simple” descriptive and directional words – e.g. caudal/cranial – were alien to us before vet school. The funny thing is, just as you become fluent in vet-speak, you have to be able to translate this back to English for clients.

I used to listen to vets converse with clients while on EMS placements, and could easily pick out those who communicated better. When witnessing those who weren’t so good at translating, I swore to myself I would never befuddle a client with medical words – surely it’s not that difficult to explain things in simple terms?

Slipping

Are you in danger of confusing your clients with “vet” words? IMAGE: pathdoc/Fotolia.

While having a non-vet family and boyfriend has helped keep me “bilingual”, I fear I am starting to fall into the jargon trap already.

The first sign appeared when in conversation with the aforementioned better half who, while not in the profession, has grasped a fair idea of the vet world after some years by my side.

After listening to one of my many ramblings about vet life, he asked “what is a mucosa?” and I suddenly realised I was possibly losing my ability to communicate like a normal human being.

Meanwhile, I have found myself on more than one occasion having a complete mental block when trying to think of the “normal” word for something, with the technical term holding strongest in my mind. But I guess that comes with experience, and explaining things to different clients in time.

Beneath the surface

The way vets communicate with each other is important too – while the language we use can seem subtle, it can have deeper meanings.

One particular word I fear is becoming normalised within our profession is not a medical word at all – “survive” (and the derivatives thereof). New grads may joke about having “survived” X number of months in practice, and when asked “how are you getting on?”, “surviving” is all too common an answer. Throwing this word around makes it seem as though it loses meaning, but I think it actually has the opposite effect.

The Oxford Dictionary meaning of “survive” is to “continue to live or exist, especially in spite of danger or hardship.” And we relate this to the veterinary world all the time.

Justification?

The all too frequent use of the word either suggests we are in a constant state of hardship – be that emotional, physical, mental or financial – or that we are exaggerating.

If you truly feel you are “surviving” at work, seek advice, says Jordan. IMAGE: alphaspirit/Fotolia.

Justified or not, I think we use the word too often; we shouldn’t be merely “surviving” – we all worked hard to enter this profession, and nobody said being a new grad would be easy – but it doesn’t need to be horrific.

If you feel like you’re coasting along, just about surviving, talk to your friends, colleagues, an independent ear – get some advice to find out either how to get more on top of things, or whether you’re truly in the right kind of practice environment for you.

And if you’re more than surviving, stop brandishing the word about carelessly for the sake of those who feel they’re just about keeping their heads above water. The language you use is more important than you may realise.

September 1, 2017
Accountability and responsibility: which causes more fear?

It’s very daunting standing in your first consult as a real, qualified vet – even if it is “just a vaccine”, which invariably turns into “actually, this has happened“, or “now you mention it“, and so on.

But why is it we have that constant feeling of being on edge – more so than a few months previously, when we were still students?

A noticeable shift certainly occurs to being an actual vet, rather than someone who always has a supervisor to have the final say, or take the brunt of the backlash of a mistake.

However, is it the accountability or the responsibility worrying us the most?

Pressing concern

Mistakes are inevitable, but rarely catastrophic. IMAGE: pathdoc/Fotolia.

As soon as we swear the oath enabling us to register as veterinary surgeons in the UK on graduation day, we become accountable to the RCVS.

In the past year, I have witnessed more than one speech telling us a) not to be scared of the college, and b) not nearly as many complaints, disciplinaries or registration removals occur as we think.

Exact figures aside, the take-home message has been: if you don’t knowingly do anything wrong or illegal, the likelihood of serious consequences is very low. You can’t get struck off for making a simple mistake.

The veterinary press, however, seems to over-represent those who are struck off or reprimanded; after all, you never hear about how many vets were not struck off this month or doing their jobs as they should.

Perhaps this is where the unease stems from? And why the RCVS seems so keen to tell us these individuals convicted of misconduct are a very small minority of the profession?

Are new grads really scared of the RCVS?

Talking to my colleagues, the general feeling is we understand we won’t get struck off for making a mistake. However, if the fear has anything to do with our regulatory body, it’s more the confidence knock we would have as a consequence of having a complaint against us made to it.

Of course, an element of worry surrounds being banned from practising as a vet, but I don’t think I would rank it top of the “things to be afraid of as a new graduate” list.

Instead, in that list, I think responsibility carries a greater weight. As students, we were always supervised and, ultimately, the fate of an animal’s life never truly rested in our hands. Any decisions we made were either backed up or steered in the right direction by clinicians.

Now, it’s down to us. Yes – other, more experienced colleagues should be in each practice with whom to discuss cases or reaffirm decisions, but when it comes to the consult room, you’re on your own.

Experience is king

Jordan, pictured during her final-year rotations.

What if I miss a heart murmur? What if miss signs of glaucoma, a pyometra or a lump? The list goes on. What if I could have done more investigations earlier? What if I misdiagnose something and prolong pain because I didn’t prescribe the right treatment first time?

These questions going on in our heads, coupled with a niggling feeling we have forgotten something or misread a dose, are the root of the fear. I believe this is what scares us, more so than the RCVS.

The animals – and us inherently wanting to do our best for them – makes us worry. We worry our lack of experience could be at the expense of an animal’s health – or even their life.

The only way to get past this is to gain that experience to have confidence in our decisions and learn from the mistakes we will, undoubtedly, make.

My mum said to me this week: “This is the only time you’re ever going to feel like this,” and she’s right. (But don’t tell her I said that). Even if we start a new job in the future, we will have a lot more experience under our belts, so shouldn’t, in theory, feel as lost or scared as we do now.

Being a new graduate vet is a unique position for a myriad of reasons and we need to embrace it. The fear that comes with this newly found responsibility will ease with time, and we can take our careers in whichever direction we choose.

August 16, 2017