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Category: Student blogs

Good intentions

Less than a month into my master’s degree in wildlife health and rehabilitation, and it’s already become apparent that a vast array of misconceptions are held by the public concerning local wildlife.

I’m already armed with far more wildlife facts than I ever thought my brain had room for. For example, did you know that a group of hedgehogs is called a prickle? Or that bees have five eyes?

The vet course is a lengthy and arduous endurance, and even so a whole wealth of animal knowledge gets left out because, for the average vet, there’s little need to know that a kangaroo has three vaginas. Unless, of course, you’re a vet working in Australia – in which case, g’day!

The unfortunate facts

In my lectures, alongside these charming facts came the statistic that in the majority of wildlife rescue centres, more than 50% of “abandoned orphan” admissions are a mistake on the well-meaning public’s part and are, in fact, just young fledglings still getting used to their wings.

That’s in excess of 50% of “avian orphan” admissions that have to be assessed, put through the system, housed and then released back into the wild – more than 50% of resources wasted.

It’s also true that feeding hedgehogs milk and birds bread can make them ill, and that setting out food or bird feeders can provide a breeding ground for disease transmission and propagation.

And it’s a truth that is kept somewhat from the public that, for a large proportion of wildlife casualties, there is little to be done but palliative care and euthanasia.

Small acts of kindness

This topic really gets me down, because with all of the ecological, environmental and diversity destruction ongoing around the world, small acts of kindness and sympathetic good deeds seem few and far between – and as someone passionate about wildlife and conservation, the last thing I want to do is discourage them.

A lot of problems exist in this world, and humans cause 99% of them, so when someone goes out of his or her way to try to do the right thing and it ends up causing more harm than good – whether he or she knows it or not – it seems like such a waste of good intentions.

Image © raquel / Adobe Stock

Can’t do right for doing right

The real crux of the matter is the paradox of education. It’s understandable that the public make mistakes regarding wildlife when so much is still unknown to the professional community.

That being said, if the wide range of new data at our fingertips could be available for the layman, such mistakes might be mitigated. However, there’s only so much unrequested education people can tolerate before they just give up.

Similarly, if you let every member of the public who brings in an injured animal know the percentage of animals that have had to be euthanised that day, they might just take it on themselves not to bring it in at all, or (an even worse possibility) attempt to care for it themselves.

Sad, but true

Stories of people attempting to hand-rear everything from birds to large cats are, while superficially admirable, most often doomed to failure.

Research is constantly being conducted into nutritional requirements, behavioural norms and habitat necessities on all the species we’re still not 100% on… and that’s pretty much all of them.

If the leading minds in the field are still messing it up, there’s not much hope for the average Joe – even with all the good intentions in the world.

October 26, 2020
The new etiquette of dog walking, post COVID-19

Having been lucky enough to spend the past few days in Cornwall – at a time of year where dog walkers are plentiful and you can hardly take two steps without tripping over something small and fluffy – it’s struck me that COVID-19 has not only shaped the way we interact with one another, but also with other animals.

Although the British public as a whole has never been labelled as “overly friendly”, we never used to go out of the way to cross the street to avoid each other; now, however, that’s become a regular occurrence.

The way we behave around other people has had to change over the past few months, but I think it’s worth arguing that a change in the way we behave around pets is equally necessary.

Group walks

Dog walking in groups has obviously been reduced to a maximum of six (furry friends notwithstanding of course), along with many other social activities across the country, but it is still important to maintain social distancing and not be tempted to go back to old habits.

Taking care when holding another dog’s lead, or getting tangled in a web of leads as your dogs are overwhelmed with seeing each other again – it’s also important to obviously be mindful of other members of the public, as six dog walkers marching down the street, each with one or two dogs in tow, is now the closest thing to a booked out concert and can seem quite intimidating to some poor person just trying to get to the shops.

Up close and personal

Approaching dogs you aren’t familiar with is a situation that should always be treated with caution, but coronavirus adds an extra element to consider.

I was enjoying a pub dinner recently when a couple came in with the most adorable 10-week-old border collie and made the whole room erupt into a cooing, aww-ing mess (myself included). It seemed that everyone’s instinctual reaction was to approach, but in the current climate almost everyone stayed seated – if a little mournfully.

So much has been written in the papers about whether our animals can transmit the virus, whether they carry it on their fur from where their owners have touched them, if they’re asymptomatic carriers (etc) that I don’t think a lot of people know what they should or shouldn’t do around other people’s pets. There is also the question of whether the owner would feel comfortable with you getting close enough to pet them in the first place – and as a further minefield, the addition of face masks can make it very difficult to read a persons facial expression to gauge their reaction.

Face masks can pose a problem for dogs. Image by ivabalk from Pixabay

Facing the facts

Face masks can also pose problems for dogs, being a species that relies heavily on physical over verbal communication. The absence of facial cues can be disconcerting for some dogs and make them more nervous or prone to aggression than they might ordinarily be.

Furthermore, if the dog in question did not grow up in the world of face-masks and visors, or has had a negative experience with a person wearing a similar item, it can cause it to be excessively wary, stressed and defensive. If a dog is too young to remember pre-COVID life, he/she may also not be used to heavy traffic or large numbers of people.

It’s perhaps more important than ever to consider an animal’s individual circumstances before engaging with it. If in doubt, ask the owner for his or her permission and a little bit about the dog. For reference, a yellow harness or lead is often used to indicate a particularly nervous dog.

Assistance dogs

A final consideration that I’d hope would come naturally to everyone is to give way to people with service dogs, whether they are guide dogs or for other purposes.

Although training is already underway for some guide dogs to learn to social distance, a lot of dogs were never prepared for these circumstances and a full two-metre distance isn’t always entirely possible or safe (for example, two people passing each other on a thin kerb beside a busy road).

Being mindful of service dogs and taking care to give way when possible goes a long way in ensuring everyone can stay safe and well.

October 15, 2020
Paying it forward

Towards the end of what has been, regrettably for me, a distinctly non-“vetty” summer period, I was delighted to receive an email from the headmistress of my old secondary school, asking if some of her students who were applying to vet school in the near future could get in touch.

Coming to sudden terms with the fact that I was now considered someone “in the know” rather than someone on the outside looking in made me feel grateful, nostalgic… and just a little bit ancient all in one go.

As my school has a custom of bringing in old students to speak to sixth formers aspiring to the same fields of interest, I had always thought that I may some day be called in to bring my experience full circle.

Share and share alike

Until now I think I subconsciously assumed my old stomping grounds had simply yielded no aspiring vets in the past few years, but it seems that I was mistaken – and happily so.

I enthusiastically agreed to share details with the wannabe vets in question.

As I prepared to answer any queries they might have about the application process, interview preparation or what the pearly gates of veterinary medicine at university were actually like, it got me thinking about how the veterinary community seems to stand out from the crowd in terms of rallying around each other – no matter their level of study – and holding the idiom “pay it forward” very close to heart.

From the ground up

The truth is, even the most experienced, knowledgeable and Yoda-like veterinary surgeon that ever walked this earth started off a lowly Padawan just like the rest of us – probably cleaning kennels, hoovering after hours and just trying his or her very best not to get in peoples’ way.

I think it’s this that unites us all; no matter our age, gender, race or background, we’ve all been stood on by cows, moaned at by sleep-deprived farmers and pooed or peed on more times than we can count – often both at the same time in a terrifying feat of Mother Nature’s ingenuity.

Climb every mountain

Every veterinary student works incredibly hard to even gain a foothold on one of the UK’s coveted university places, and he or she works even harder still to graduate five to six years later.

I’ve been assured the journey that awaits me on the other side of my cap and gown is no easier. The veterinary career can sometimes seem comparable to mountains piled on top of each other – each one larger than the last, with less footholds, and more treacherous and difficult terrain to navigate.

Is it any wonder those at the top want to throw down the ropes to those standing in their footwells, or climb back down and take the time to show them how they scaled the mountain in the first place, right by their side?

So grateful

I digress, but – mushy and, perhaps, overly elaborate metaphors aside – I am so deeply grateful for all the help I have been given on my journey so far – from the vets in my lecture halls to the vet nurse who first taught me how to hold a scalpel – and for all that I am still yet to receive.

I also feel so privileged to be in the position to help people myself in any way I can, and hope I never forget the value of paying it forward and how far it brought me.

September 29, 2020
Advice for first year vets beginning university in a pandemic

With first year on the horizon in the midst of a world that is far from the normal we knew, some newbie vets are bound to be feeling nervous at the prospect of a fresher’s year like no other.

Having spoken to a number of students due to begin their vet journeys later this month, I thought I would address some of their specific concerns, and offer advice and comfort to anyone out there who might need it.

Fear #1: loneliness

I think every first year is worried about making friends and fitting in, so, when socialising is legally restricted, it’s only natural for those worries to intensify.

For any students who had their heart set on midnight raves seven days a week, I’m not sure I can offer much in the way of a solution. However, I would like to say that I managed to make several good friends before even moving into halls.

Social media made it possible to connect with people from my course and accommodation far in advance of the start of term – and some of those early connections went on to form long-lasting friendships after meeting in person.

Social media allowed Eleanor to connect with people from her course before it began. Photo by bongkarn thanyakij from Pexels

Get connected

If you’ve yet to find an online group like that at your university then I encourage you to have another look. Whether you want to connect with course mates, room-mates or people who enjoy the same activities as you, I promise, your people are out there waiting for you to find them.

If you’re not the most socially inclined person, it can be easy to feel isolated at the best of times, so I implore you to take advantage of every online resource your university has to offer.

Community

First years I’ve spoken to have worried about the lack of group learning and practicals because they already know the value of teamwork in the veterinary industry. Studying with friends is an incredible tool, and a strong sense of community is one of the defining features of every vet school.

Although your social bubble will of course be no substitute for a lecture hall of 150 people, it is no lie that most students make their best friends on the first day with the person sitting next to them.

Fear #2: mental health

The veterinary course can be intense and highly demanding – both mentally and emotionally. It’s why this course and profession have higher incidences of depression, anxiety and suicide than almost any others.

The general uncertainty surrounding local lockdowns can make visits home to family and friends to recuperate and unwind challenging or impossible – especially to foreign students who may already feel isolated.

It has never been more important for the veterinary community to rally around and support one another. We are all in the same boat – from first years, to lecturers, to vets out in the field. All of us are a little uncertain, but we are strongest when we work together.

Fear #3: access to learning resources

I’ve spent many an hour studying cadavers of all sizes at length in the lead-up to an exam, or simply when I just couldn’t wrap my head around something. I know from first-hand experience that sometimes looking at something on a computer screen just isn’t the same, and when it comes to the vet course, there’s no better way to learn than hands-on, up close and personal.

I must have had tens of hours’ worth of lectures about the bovine reproductive tract and how to perform a rectal exam, but I think I learned more in 15 minutes with my hand inside a rectum than I did in all of those lectures combined.

Eleanor claims she learned more in 15 minutes with her hand inside a rectum than she did in all her bovine reproductive tract lectures combined… Image © A / Adobe Stock

No substitute

There truly is no substitute for live instruction, so it is incredibly important for all vet students to make the most of all the face-to-face content their university can provide.

Taking the time to study the content beforehand can be extremely helpful for this. Not only do you (hopefully) know enough to understand what you are looking at (a leg versus an arm, for example), but you’re also more aware of what you really don’t understand and can perhaps prepare some questions in advance.

Just ask

Take advantage of any personnel on hand when you have them – don’t be too anxious to ask questions or raise your hand because you’ll be kicking yourself when you’re trying to discover those answers on Google and it tries giving you recipe ideas when you look up the parts of a chicken wing.

Of course, I don’t have all the answers. If you are worried, unsure or have any questions about how the vet course is evolving then, regardless of the year you are in, email or call into your vet school to help put your mind at rest.

September 8, 2020
The person behind the grades

This year has thrown a lot of annual landmarks into disarray, and A-levels were no exception; my heart went out to all the students this month whose results days did not go entirely to planned.

It has been three years since I went, heart in mouth, to receive my own dreaded envelope.

Even when I’d already learned that I’d been accepted by Bristol vet school just an hour before, it didn’t feel real until I saw those grades for myself on a physical piece of paper, so I can only imagine the anguish of children all over the country who did not get the same experience.

All the difference

The Government’s decision to roll back the downgrading of thousands of A-level results has left me grateful and relieved, because the fact of the matter is, if I had been sitting in the class of 2020 rather than that of 2017, I don’t think I would have made it to where I am now.

Back in 2017, I received D grades in both my mock exams for chemistry. It was a jarring experience and pushed me to dedicate all my efforts into getting the A grades I needed for when it really counted.

Without the patient, supportive and hands-on help I received from my teachers in the months between my mocks and the real exams, I would never have gotten that A. If you asked me to get the same results without that support, and through the stress and uncertainty of a global pandemic, I think I may have burst out crying.

Meaningless mocks

The thing to keep in mind is, I don’t think that second scenario would have made me any less capable of being a veterinary professional, yet I would have been denied that future.

This article is not meant to be political because, of course, no perfect solution exists; for a time as unprecedented as this, there could never possibly be one. I can, however, tell you that, using my own past as evidence, mocks no more define a student’s ability or aptitude than GCSE or A-level grades define that student.

The difference between a B and an A can be as simple as a good or bad night’s sleep before an exam, the ability to afford a tutor or the home life a student returns to even after the best day’s schooling in the world.

Diversification

Another reason I’m so glad for the Government’s change of heart is because I wholeheartedly believe that every course and profession – especially professional ones like veterinary medicine – is bettered and made stronger by having a diverse body of people from a variety of backgrounds.

The veterinary course is sometimes accused of being “elitist” – I think because of the work it takes to even gain an interview. When you factor in travel costs, work experience opportunities and academic support, the door becomes closed to more and more people.

With veterinary courses sometimes accused of being “elitist”, Eleanor is pleased by the Government’s change of heart because she believes every course and profession is bettered and made stronger by having a diverse body of people. Image © fizkes / Adobe Stock

What makes a vet?

I have also spoken before about how I don’t believe academic ability is all that it takes to make a good vet.

People skills, compassion, determination, resilience and a level head are all things that individuals need to take with them into any professional vocation. An understanding of science and maths is undeniably important, as is the ability to retain large quantities of information, problem solve and reason.

But if you focus on the grades alone, you only see half the person – in the case of this year, maybe even less.

Recognising value

I hope the changing grades for those with their hearts set on a place on a veterinary or human medicine course this year did not come too late. As some of the most over-subscribed courses, places are filled almost instantly.

I also hope every university recognises both the uniqueness of the times and the value of the person behind each results sheet.

August 26, 2020
Chasing waterfalls
Sticking to what you’re used to is both safe and comfortable; getting to where I am now was neither of those things. All through secondary school, people told me trying to become a vet was too much effort – that if I was having to try as hard as I was, then maybe it wasn’t worth it.

Now, as I prepare to intercalate between the third and fourth years of my vet course, I have people balking at the idea of taking on an additional hurdle.

The truth is I’ve been hurtling along these tracks I’ve laid for myself for an awfully long time – back before I knew superhero wasn’t a viable backup career or that, sadly, you have to be born a princess.

A different path

It’s a scary concept to hop on to a new path for a while – one that isn’t so black and white – and steer in the direction of what I think is north. But it’s also very exciting.

From September, I’ll be undertaking an MSc Global Wildlife Health and Conservation course – and recently receiving an update email on what my intercalation course will look like post-outbreak made me almost giddy with anticipation.

Government guidelines and international pandemics permitting, I’m looking forward to a lot of hands-on, skill-based learning, working on interpreting data and building my own research project (more on that to come).

Less of the same

All vet courses taught up and down the country are very similar (because they have to be) and, therefore, reward you with a certain skill set and career outlook. By intercalating I am hoping to expand each of these to narrow in my sights on the areas of animal-centred fields that strike the strongest chords within me.

From the first day of vet school my eyes began opening to the impacts of our lives on the populations of the species with whom we share this planet; issues I wasn’t happy to tolerate and didn’t even know I had been.

Big, jaw-dropping horrors like dolphin hunting, stereotypes of captive animals and chicks on conveyor belts hurtling towards a meat grinder, down to the more subtle disasters such as quickly evaporating insect populations, awoke in me the drive I’d had as an infant to do this job in the first place.

Making animals better

As a six-year-old girl, my idea of what it meant to be a vet was simply “a person who made animals feel better”. At that age, I don’t think the concept was any more nuanced than that. But looking back, 15 years on, I don’t think it has to be.

I know I’m not alone in wanting to leave this world a little better than I found it, and if this next year I’m embarking on brings me a little closer to my goal then I wouldn’t want to lose a single second.

Complicated

The big problems the veterinary community faces – along with the world as a whole – aren’t going to be changed overnight. My own lifestyle is an embodiment of just how complicated they are:
- I agree all animals are entitled to freedom from pain and suffering, and although I try to reduce my consumption of meat, I am not vegetarian or vegan.
- I do not believe in the captivity of large aquatic mammals, but as a child I enjoyed my visits to SeaWorld and wildlife parks to watch the dolphin shows.
I don’t expect to solve the big issues or answer the big questions, but I want to contribute in any way I can.

Unfortunately, conservation and exotics are not currently primary areas of study on the veterinary course, and yet I cannot help but pursue them. I hope to bring the worlds together in the coming years, and fight for change with a double-edged sword.
August 12, 2020
Grieving as a professional

The pet of a close friend of mine has just passed away. Zilla the black Lab was the most beloved dog, who had a fondness both for rummaging through the bins and belly scratches.

She’d had progressive problems with her health and, earlier this month, it became clear that, sadly, the time had come for her to leave.

I’m sure that, just as parent’s try not to prioritise one child over the other, vets do their best not to pick their favourites, but in my mind it’s an inevitable outcome of having a human inside the white coat; some little lives are bound to touch us more than others, sometimes without us even knowing or in ways we didn’t realise until we properly reflect.

Early consults

Without me realising it, Zilla wove herself into my early veterinary evolution. When we were younger, my friend and I would often joke that I would be Zilla’s vet in the future.

Eleanor Goad‘s first “patient”.

Even in the era of early GCSEs, friends would consult me on topics ranging from “that strange rash came back” to “she’s eaten half the box of Celebrations – wrappers and all!”

Young, utterly underqualified and fully aware of the fact, I would always advise the friend to consult a real professional – but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take a little pride each time in being asked, or that I didn’t take a deep interest in the outcome or feel the emotional impacts of that outcome.

Grief counsellor

I’ve been a shoulder to cry on during the bereavement of several small furry friends, and so, without ever seeing a euthanasia in person, I am not naïve to the aftermath.

Grief is an unavoidable part of the veterinary field, as it is a part of human medicine, and even as professionals on the other side of the examination table, it is bound to rock us from time to time.

I worry that a part of the mental health decline in the veterinary population is a lack of addressing the small chinks in the armour that are bound to build up over the years.

Toughen up

Zilla’s passing hit me harder than I’d expected; she was the most beautiful dog and lit up every room she entered – and yet a part of me was telling myself I couldn’t be upset because I was going into a profession where death was part of the nine-to-five and I had to “toughen myself up” to it.

I think it’s important for both vets and owners alike to acknowledge that they are allowed to grieve, and that the loss of an animal can hit just as hard as the loss of a person.

Find a balance

As a vet I am undoubtedly going to bond with many of my patients as I follow them through their lives, and their ups and downs, while striving to right all their wrongs.

We are entitled to our emotions. It’s just about finding a balance between our responsibility as professionals to support our clients when things go downhill and the responsibility to ourselves when our mental health takes a downward spin – and to allow ourselves to grieve if we need to.

July 29, 2020
A nervous generation

I read somewhere in the early days of lockdown that several rescue shelters have been experiencing 100% empty kennels for the first time since opening.

This was truly heart-warming to hear, and seemed at first as a small silver lining around the dark clouds of the pandemic. However, it shortly came to light that demand for new pets, both young and old, was sky-rocketing.

More households were finding they had more time on their hands. People were lonely and in need of company, or learning to better appreciate the outdoors during the unprecedented good weather and fancied a four-legged companion by their side.

Think before you buy

I’ve spoken before about the dangers of buying a pet during the passion of the moment, without proper consideration or planning, but as long as both are present I’m wholeheartedly for the mutual companionship that both dogs and cats can bring, especially in the current climate.

It was only after a conversation concerning a friend’s adorable young dog – who is both the most friendly and energetic creature in the world and a little bashful when it comes to running into other dogs on her walks – that I began to think of the future and the ways in which lockdown might have inadvertently shaped the next generation of pets.

Phoebe – pre-lockdown puppy of Eleanor’s friend Felix.

Opening the social window

A social window is a short period of time when dogs and cats are growing up, in which they are the most open and absorbent to new experiences.

After this window has closed, these animals can become suspicious or downright terrified of anything they didn’t come across during their early days – sort of like the grandparents who are a little wary of the iPad, saying: “We never had that in my day.”

This window has always posed a tricky obstacle in the past, as neither puppies nor kittens can legally be sold until eight weeks of age, but the social window for cats is nearing its end at around only seven weeks. So, in the past – unless breeders were well informed, educated, and responsible – lots of owners could end up with a bit of a scaredy-cat (I‘ll pause for the eye-rolls).

The outside world

During a young animal’s “social window” they should be experiencing a variety of scenarios and situations in both a positive and safe manner, to avoid sensitisation and steer towards a comfortable association. In the same way many of us have aversion to traumas of our past, our dogs and cats too can hold an almost unconscious grudge.

The thing about lockdown that most new pet owners probably won’t have thought about is how it has unfortunately deprived an entire generation of young dogs and cats from experiencing enough of the world around them.

The decreased access to outdoors and the different smells, sights, and sounds it brings might be leading to a wave of pets that will always be just a little bit trepidatious.

Image © feelmax / Adobe Stock

Therapy?

I think it needs mentioning that there is, for the most part, nothing wrong with a cautious pet – as long as the owner is aware of their pet’s disposition and knows how to manage it.

Management can be as simple as taking them for walks during less busy times of the day, or brightly coloured coats, leads, collars or reigns to alert other dog walkers that they’re in need of a little extra space

Addressing any behavioural ticks with proper therapy or training can also go a long way. Therapy in this case does not mean lying back on a sofa to delve deep into childhood traumas, but a gradual, supportive normalisation of stressful triggers.

Next gen

If we really are producing a generation of nervous pets, then it is the fault of no one person – no “bad” owners, mistakes, or malpractice; simply a product of the times – crazy, unique and unpredictable times.

However, it is the responsibility of any owner to be supportive, observant, and proactive, regardless of your pet’s quirks or the times we live in – another example of why taking on a pet is such a huge commitment that can never be taken lightly.

Consult with your vet if you have concerns and always be patient with your animals, just like us, they are trying their best to keep their balance on unsteady ground.

July 13, 2020
It’s okay to take a day off

Talk of “silver linings” at a time like this can sometimes sound like a bit of a platitude, and an irritating one at that. After all, having more time to yourself and your hobbies can wear a little thin when that is quite literally all you seem to have to do for days on end.

For the same reason, holidays are only special because they end. Too much “you time” can make you long for the busy days of old. To quote a classic: “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?”

This being said, I can honestly say that this weird, once-in-a-lifetime situation has gone a long way in teaching me a truly valuable lesson in something I’ve struggled with for the best part of my academic career: switching off, taking a break and not feeling guilty for it.

No off switch

To some it may sound ridiculous, but I do believe a lot of people in the medical field will empathise with me when I say that, for the longest time, I’ve been guilty of nearly working myself into the ground because I considered taking even a few hours off from studying, a project, whatever it may be, was completely unjustified and a luxury I did not deserve.

This is, of course, a horrible way to go about one’s life. If you never give yourself a chance to stop, smell the roses, and enjoy yourself for a little while, then working productively and effectively just is not achievable long term.

Under the hood

The human brain – and, indeed, the human body itself – is not a machine. It is not programmed for optimum efficiency 100% of the time. We’re more like a dodgy old car that needs a good amount of fuel and a lot of TLC every few miles to keep on chugging.

Not the most attractive analogy, I grant you, but I’m sure you get my meaning.

Before lockdown I would feel guilty for taking a short break from revision, let alone a whole day. This certainly made the first few weeks of self-isolation a challenge as there simply was not the same amount of work to do.

New normal

It took a while to convince myself the lack of productivity wasn’t laziness, but a product of a new and changing world – that everyone else in the world was in the same boat, riding the same crazy currents, doing the best they could.

With this slow epiphany it’s become easier to take time off and to divide my time up into periods of work and play; I think I’ve read more books in the past two months than in the past two years – not textbooks, either, but fiction (I’d forgotten there was such a thing).

Stronger

The staggering of work and downtime has also helped me to find that feeling of a scheduled, regular day that I’ve been searching for since this all began – and I’ve noticed I’m much more engaged with my studies as a result.

I hope that when normality returns (in whatever form that may be), I can remember the lessons this time has taught me and be stronger for them.

June 26, 2020
Practice in practices makes perfect, in practice…

In a world currently filled with sacrifice and compromise, the cancellation of a week’s EMS over the Easter holidays did not, at first glance, seem like a hardship.

Of course I had been looking forward to my first ever farm-practice placement – especially as only a week or so before I had tried my hand at my very first rectal exam and even understood, with sudden and unexpected glee, what some of those lumps and bumps actually were.

But the idea of a little extra time with the family and a whole additional week to focus on upcoming exams meant that, initially, I was not too disheartened.

What does it mean?

Now we’re several weeks deep into lockdown, with no clear end date on the calendar and firm Government advice to “not expect a return to normality anytime soon”, what does this mean for my friends, colleagues and peers at veterinary school – my unlucky year in particular? The situation is different for each year.

First-year students

Poor freshers have had to miss out on Easter lambing season – an unspoken rite of passage into the vet student community. After all, if you’ve never come home without bodily fluids in your hair, are you really one of us?

Second-year students

Second years are having to postpone pre-clinical EMS, compared to those in their fourth year who are sacrificing what could be termed “the good stuff” – that is, real problems in real practices, suturing, injecting, slicing, dicing and all of that (though maybe not the last one). But hopefully the majority of these students will have managed to gain experience in their respective levels of training over the summer of 2019.

Final-year students

Final years have been somewhat of a priority, and rightly so, with special arrangements being made to ensure they graduate fully qualified and at no more of a disadvantage than those who graduated the year before.

My friends and I

Enter now the third years – the year I myself am a part of.

This year marks a transition for us; a stepping stone from sweeping dung from a variety of sources and essentially stepping back to watch the magic happen, to actually doing the magic – or at least attempting it with a sweaty brow under the watchful eye of several veteran professionals.

It’s a big thing. A big, scary, daunting prospect of a thing, but a thing nonetheless – and, given the uncertainty we’re facing in terms of what the future holds for anything and everything, the question is being opened as to what this means for the next generation of vets.

Abnormal

We’ve been told by many officials not to expect “normality” for some time.

“Normality” in this case meaning “the way we’ve always done things” – crowding together in coffee shops, restaurants, and hospital and practice waiting rooms without a care in the world.

“Virus? What virus?” we would say.

But, although certain establishments can change the way they operate – cafés can upregulate hygiene and waiting rooms can impose distancing restrictions – EMS is another matter entirely.

Impractical

Veterinary practices and animal hospitals are undoubtedly some of the cleanest places in the world – because they have to be – and vets themselves are no strangers to singing Happy Birthday twice before eating their lunch. But opening their doors to one or several new vet students each and every week in the coming months might just not be feasibly possible.

A lot of practices – especially independents – are small compared to their human counterparts, which has never really been a problem for us because, luckily, a lot of animals are also rather small. It does mean, however, that, a lot of the time, the two-metre rule just wouldn’t be practical – even if your only purpose is to stand and observe.

For those still needing to undertake pre-clinical placements, a whole new set of challenges exist, including the willingness of farmers to take on students whose help would not be essential, as viral exposure for them could mean a complete loss of livelihood.

Preclinical conundrum

It is an RCVS requirement for all students to complete a minimum of 12 weeks’ preclinical and 26 weeks’ clinical EMS. However, fourth-year students have already had their mandated clinical minimum halved to a mere 12 weeks.

While other years are currently expected to be able to “make up” any missed placements before graduation, the fact the situation is constantly in flux means the RCVS has admitted further reductions may be needed.

While this would certainly be helpful and take some of the pressure off for those of whom meeting the usual requirements would be an impossible feat, one has to worry how this will affect student confidence in the long run.

Key experiences

There is a reason the RCVS has always asked for a certain amount of EMS, and while the number seems daunting at first, it’s only during (or perhaps after) each placement that you can truly see its value.

Practice makes perfect – but, more than that, it builds confidence. It provides an environment in which mistakes are not life-threatening and are safe to be learned from.

With the loss of these key experiences that have helped shape generation after generation of vet students, it is perhaps inevitable that vet schools will have to adapt even further than they already have to limit the knock-on impact of a scenario we have never had to face before.

June 10, 2020