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Should you employ a new grad?
This weekend, I helped out with a talk at SPVS-VMG Congress on employing new graduates.

It gave delegates – vets, VNs, employers and new grads themselves – the opportunity to reflect on how wildly different each new grad’s experience can be, and appreciate the challenges employers face when hiring new grads.

The fact those in attendance had chosen to come to a talk on ensuring practice is right for new grads suggested most of our audience were forward-thinking employers who wanted to provide their new grads with a good start to their career.

The others

However, and sadly, not all employers have that at the top of their priority list. I would like to think such employers – who, as a result, are maybe not treating their new grads well – aren’t doing it maliciously, but rather just don’t have the time to teach and mentor properly, but also don’t have a choice but to take on new grads, given the employment crisis the profession faces.

However, that is still no excuse. I should also mention, of course, the minority of employers that will hire a new grad simply for cheap labour – meaning there is little to no interest in them at all. If you cannot provide adequate support for a new grad, don’t employ one – it isn’t fair on anyone.

My generation

Lazy? Or valuing non-work time? Image © Free Photos / Pixabay

Many of the challenges of employing a new graduate stem from the difference in attitudes between different generations. The new grads moving through the system now are of the “millennial” generation often stereotyped as lazy, entitled and needy.

Being a millennial myself, I inherently disagree with these generalisations – they just need looking at differently:
- We are not lazy, we just don’t want to work horrendous hours. We are more than happy to work strange shifts (evenings/nights), but that doesn’t mean working the traditional expectation of five long days, a full weekend on call and a further five days.
- We are not entitled, we just cannot justify the negatives of the profession long-term. The “love of veterinary medicine“ is very idyllic, but just isn’t sustainable in the real world. We could work less hours, be paid more, take holidays when we want and be paid reasonable sick pay in many other sectors, so why wouldn’t we? It’s not about the money, here – it’s about the injustice.
- We are not needy, we just crave feedback. How do we know we’re doing okay unless you tell us? How do we know how to improve if you don’t guide us?
Wake-up call

Some vets of the older generations still have the attitude of “we had to go through it, so you have to get on with it too” – as though the horror of being left to your own devices, being unable to contact anyone in the middle of the night when you are out of your depth, and the sleep deprivation of internships are just a “rite of passage” of being a new grad. It may be news to these bosses, but the new grads of today just won’t put up with that crap.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different result” is a quotation often attributed to Einstein. Whether he ever actually said it is questionable, but it has applications in many walks of life. When these old-style partners still expect their new grads to be on call for 17 nights in a row, is it any wonder there is an employment crisis?

If you want to attract any staff, not just new grads, you’ve got to adapt to the present. Veterinary is changing and the modern new grad doesn’t want – and won’t settle – for the same things they did 50 years ago.

Let’s talk

Support… it’s all we need. Image © 135pixels / Adobe Stock

So, what do new grads want? Well, how long is a piece of string? The simple fact is: we are all different. The key to having a successful working relationship with a new grad is communication and flexibility.

The one thing all new grads want is support, but what that support actually looks like can vary wildly. For example, sometimes the new grad themselves will underestimate or overestimate how much support they need, which is why it is important for the learning process to be continual, with frequent check-ins.

It’s all very well saying I’ll only need second on-call backup for two months, but if, after that time, I still haven’t done a caesarean or calving, how can I be expected to be able to handle it alone?

Of course, this works both ways – new grads need to be upfront and honest about what kind of support they think they need, and practices likewise need to be honest about what they can provide.

If either party are overselling themselves to secure a job/vet, the arrangement will not work out long-term and both of you will be on the hunt again much quicker than you would like.

What we can do

So, why should you bother employing a new grad if you have to put lots of extra effort and time into it compared with employing an experienced vet? We new grads have a lot to offer:
1. We are tech-savvy (usually much more than our older counterparts).
2. We have lots of new ideas and experiences from a variety of placements in different practices.
3. We have up-to-date knowledge since we are fresh out of universities undertaking research into the newest techniques and treatments.
4. We are enthusiastic – despite refusing to put up with the poor working environments of the past, we are yet to become cynical about the veterinary profession.
What we lack is experience – and that is what we ask of you. Sure, the harsh truth may be that you don’t really have a choice in the employment climate as it stands, but if you get it right – and your new grad stays with you for years to come – it will be a true investment.
January 31, 2018
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
New vet schools are not the solution

We’ve barely had a day of news in the past year that didn’t include Brexit. Yet, do any of us really know what the real consequences will be?

Within the veterinary profession, specific factors are undoubtedly going to be influenced by Brexit, even if we don’t know the extent of these yet. They do, however, include a great deal of legislation on welfare and meat hygiene, but also the future of the UK veterinary workforce.

It has been suggested the proposed coalition of Keele University and Harper Adams for yet another UK vet school may help boost numbers of veterinary professionals in the UK post-Brexit, especially when it is suspected we may be facing a shortfall.

I disagree.

Not a new problem

Is training new vets going to be of detriment to the health and well-being of those in the profession already? IMAGE: GianlucaCiroTancredi/Fotolia.

Yes, the veterinary profession has a shortage of experienced veterinary surgeons right now, but this was the case before the EU referendum was even in the pipeline – SPVS, for example, called for veterinary surgeons to be added to the UK’s shortage occupation list in 2015.

Sure, post-Brexit, it is likely to get worse – for example, the uncertainty surrounding the whole situation is (anecdotally) already seeing some of our EU vets searching for jobs overseas and leaving. This isn’t just “vet news” either – the BBC (despite the ambiguous statistics quoted) also recognised the effects of Brexit on the veterinary profession in an article this week.

But opening new vet schools isn’t the answer. For example, there is increasing awareness in the veterinary profession of the importance of mental health and a resultant expanding of the resources available for those who are struggling.

We also frequently hear buzzwords such as “compassion fatigue” and “burnout”, which we need to do more about.

My point is: we need to look after our current vets. This would prevent them getting tired and fed up, and ultimately leaving the profession – or, at least, leaving a clinical practice role.

Sold the wrong idea?

The Voices from the Future of the Profession report produced by the BVA/RCVS Vet Futures initiative in 2015 stated 50% of recent graduates thought their working lives did not meet their expectations. This disillusionment, set among a feeling of being undervalued, overworked and lacking a good work-life balance (something I’ve written about at length) leads to vets turning to other careers before they have a great deal of experience – this is what should be addressed.

We need to focus on the well-being of the vets we have instead of luring even more school leavers into a profession they have false preconceptions of.

More new graduates will not solve the problem – and this is coming from one. They will simply dilute the profession and struggle because there are less “experienced vets” to mentor them and help them hone their skills and knowledge. Ultimately, a large proportion of these will become stressed and leave within a couple of years – the vicious cycle is thus complete.

Teaching tussles

On a vet school level, irrespective of Brexit, this announcement is too not welcomed. At Glasgow, I have met clinicians that have chopped and changed between vet schools because there aren’t enough experts willing to teach, resulting in a bidding war between the universities.

We now have nine vet schools across the UK and Ireland. The Aberwysth-RVC programme (for which updates on their plans were announced earlier this week) and the Keele-Harper Adams course are only going to add fuel to that fire. Where are we going to suddenly magic up so many more diplomats and EU specialists to teach? Or, for that matter, clinical skills and first opinion teachers?

Couple-of-years-qualified graduates aren’t going to have the same breadth of experience to prepare students for a variety of surgical or clinical scenarios – they are not an adequate substitute.

Reasoning questioned

Is it simply a case of money, as Jordan claims?

The plans for new vet schools is not about saving the profession, nor is it about Brexit. It is down to academic institutions seeking high-achieving school leavers to attract more undergraduates and gain more funding.

It is ludicrous a university can just decide to open a vet school off its own back and threaten the resources of current vet schools, which include teaching staff and the availability of EMS placements, especially since many of the new course models (Nottingham, Surrey and the two proposed courses above) do not have their own teaching hospitals and, instead, use external practices.

It is true the new courses will be monitored and analysed once they have an intake of students to assess whether the graduates will be allowed to practice as veterinary surgeons, but by then, it’s too late.

There needs to be regulation to prevent it getting to that point, for the sake of the profession and the disillusioned school leavers applying en masse to these new courses.

July 30, 2017
The gender pay gap – don’t put up with it
I used to consider myself a bit of an anti-feminist – but before the majority of the profession tear strips off me, let me explain…

There are a number of very strongly opinionated feminists around – on your Facebook feed, in the news and also friends or colleagues – you know the type; those who rant on and on about how a builder whistled at them when out running or how it’s disgusting women can’t walk home alone at night without fearing some sort of assault.

Don’t get me wrong, these are issues that shouldn’t be ignored – but by the time I’ve read the 17th Facebook essay about an objectifying song lyric, it starts to get a bit boring.

Keyboard warriors

In my opinion, these sort of things need to be considered sensibly.

Yes, it’s horrible we live in a world where a female is less safe than a male at night in a city, but what are you going to do about it?

Moaning on Facebook isn’t going to save your life. Swallowing your pride and spending a couple of quid on a taxi, instead of walking, might.

I hated being associated with these hardcore, self-proclaimed feminists, because I think those who aren’t campaigning for equality – but are just man haters – give the rest of the female population a bad name.

The ‘real’ working world

I also used to be naive to things like the gender pay gap, because it didn’t affect me at the time. However, now I’m about to enter the “real” working world, in a predominantly female profession, a recent headline caught my eye.

An article in The Guardian regarding the gender pay gap of university graduates stated: “Women who studied veterinary science experienced the widest gap, earning about half as much as their male counterparts”.

I’m not really sure about the accuracy of the study they refer to, and I’m certainly not aware of such a drastic gap among any of my colleagues, but it did get me thinking.

For new grads, I struggled to see how there could be such a gap, where so many internships and graduate programmes having standardised remuneration packages. However, concerning those who are a few years into their careers, there is the theory women are less likely to ask for pay rises than men.

In this day and age

Hardcore, self-proclaimed, man-hating feminists who aren’t campaigning for equality give the rest of the female population a bad name, says Jordan. IMAGE: dundanim / Fotolia.

The pay gap is undoubtedly noted across the profession as a whole, with the SPVS Salary Survey in 2014 noting a gap of 10%.

This begs the question, why? How on earth, in the 21st century, despite being a predominately female profession, can there be this difference?

This does, of course, depend on what is being taken into account.
- Do men progress quicker to partnership roles?
- Are there more men than women in these senior positions?
- Is that accounting for the increased number of women in part-time veterinary work compared to men?
We have a private profession where salaries vary so much depending on the employer, the value of an employee to a practice, location, and other benefits or job perks. Therefore, it is hard to speculate without being able to compare colleagues with similar abilities and experience in like-for-like roles.

Unacceptable

All that aside, there certainly is a pay gap in some form within the veterinary profession, and this is unacceptable. It should be unacceptable in any profession.

Maternity leave may well be inconvenient and expensive for employers, but that should not result in discrimination, purely for being born female.

To all the veterinary feminists out there, instead of getting angry at the world, do something for yourself and for the rest of us in the profession – ask for the pay rise you deserve and do not allow yourself to be undervalued purely because nature made you this way.

Don’t put up with financial discrimination. There are enough women in the profession to drive a change, and that we should do.
June 30, 2017
Preconceptions

Many preconceptions about the veterinary profession exist, with many of us having heard the old “is that seven years of training?” or “vets are all loaded” comments (cue eye roll). But what about on a personal level?

Now I’ve finished vet school and passed (yippee!), I’ve been faced with a couple of misconceptions when I’ve told people I’m a qualified vet (pending graduation).

Most frequently – and from almost every person who didn’t already know I’ll be starting a mixed job – I’ve been faced with the assumption I’ll be a small animal vet. After the fourth time this happened, I started to wonder…

Do I have the “smallies vet” look? Is there even a “look”?

I always thought I had the look of an equine vet, if anything. Is it because I’m slight and average height? Perhaps it is assumed someone of my build couldn’t possibly wrestle a sheep or calve a cow.

Old-fashioned ‘values’

Perhaps the prejudice stems from deeper than that. Is it because I’m female?

Despite the proportion of graduates entering the profession now being 80% female, I think the public still expects a farm or mixed vet to be male. Why? A simple misconception or an age-old prejudice whereby it is assumed men are more intelligent than women?

So far, I have been lucky to have never found myself in a demeaning situation in veterinary practice in the UK because of my gender (other than having to clarify it to avoid assumptions based on my name alone). I do, however, have colleagues who have been faced with sexism in a veterinary context.

Maybe it just hasn’t happened to me yet, or maybe I’m too bloody-minded to notice. I think that’s why the assumptions about my career choice took me by surprise.

Midlife crisis

Another odd question I was asked recently was: “Are vets like GPs – arrogant middle-aged men?”

I didn’t really know how to answer that…

Yes, there are older vets (not always men) who have something of a superiority complex and view internships as a rite of passage, whereby it is to be expected to be overworked and underappreciated and, because they went through it once – and have progressed in their career – they now have the right to treat the interns like dirt.

So yes, I guess so. There’s no question many of these exist, but many more wonderful, experienced vets exist who remember how hard it was in the beginning and try to help, teach and guide you where they can.

The veterinary profession is changing and, although it might take a while for the preconceptions to catch up, the public view of it will change too. Maybe I’m wrong and I’ll still be fighting the assumptions 40 years down the line.

Like they say, to assume makes an ass out of u and me!

June 18, 2017
The 7 stages of revision

Finals are imminent, so my colleagues and I are going through the annual rite of passage more commonly know as “revision hell”.

Let’s break down the various stages… I think I’m at around number 5.

1. Denial

A couple of days into your revision, you’re thinking of the long weeks between now and the exam – you’ve got ages, it’ll be fine.

You’ve done two hours of “reading” today – most of which was probably spent trying to find the right set of notes, ordering your highlighters into an appropriate rainbow effect and googling funny cat videos.

You deserve a break – after all, in a few weeks you’ll be snowed under and won’t have the luxury of time to do other things and enjoy life outside the imprisonment of your degree.

2. Panic (stage 1)

This is probably somewhere around a couple of weeks into “proper revision”.

You’ve still got a few weeks left, but, be honest, you probably haven’t been massively productive so far. You’ve looked at a calendar, maybe drawn up a timetable, looked at the list of topics to cover… and absolutely crapped yourself.

3. Bargaining

Shortly after panicking, you try to work out how you’re realistically going to tackle this.

“If I cram 10 lectures worth of notes into half an hour, I should be able to cover the course in time,” you reason.

Maybe at this point, you’re already deciding which topics to bin and, instead, go for a “strategic approach”, which involves trying to work out questions likely to be asked. However, in the time you spend looking up past papers, asking people a year older what they were asked and trying to calculate what hasn’t come up in a while, you probably could have just read about those diseases and conditions you are sacrificing.

You also waste a lot of time looking up the elusive course information documents you definitely should have found a long time ago, but were not really listening when advised to do so in your final year induction lecture.

You desperately work out which parts of the exam you have to pass, where you could make up marks, and the worst possible mark or grade you could get and still pass.

This doesn’t really change your outlook at all.

4. Past caring

You feel like you haven’t seen daylight for days or worn anything but “comfy clothes” for a while, while the diet/fitness regime has gone down the toilet.

You’ve been locked in this hell forever and still feel like you have forever left (probably about two weeks). You’ve lost all motivation and just want it to end now.

5. Panic (stage 2)

Anytime from a week to a few days before, panic sets in again.

Okay, you really have to get your act together. It’s now or never – you’ve got five years worth of stuff to learn in four days… sounds reasonable?

But you don’t have time for a full-scale breakdown. This panic stage tends to be more productive and actually kicks your lazy butt into action. Get the caffeine on board and get on with it.

6. Hysteria

The combination of exhaustion and your brain feeling like total mush results in a drunk-like hysteria. Something that probably isn’t that funny makes you cry with laughter; a diaphragm deep bellow, as if you’d forgotten how to laugh or be happy.

You realise you’ve probably gone a bit mad, but don’t even care – the end is in sight.

7. Acceptance

Whether it’s the night before the exam as you close the books and try to get a good night’s sleep, or as you walk into the exam room buzzing from the seven Red Bulls you downed in the past four hours off the back of yet another pre-exam all-nighter, you will finally reach a point of acceptance. There’s nothing more you can do now except stay awake long enough to finish the paper your degree depends on.

It’s all very well when people who’ve likely never sat a veterinary exam offer you extremely unhelpful and unrealistic advice – such as “drink green tea instead of coffee”, “get lots of sleep” and “take regular breaks” (jeez, if I took a break every 15 minutes, it would take 20 years to get this degree) – but you’ve got this far using whatever “unhealthy” method works for you, so believe in yourself. It’s the last push now and you’ll never have to sit an exam again (maybe).

Anyway, I’d better get back to my cocktail of Pro Plus, chocolate and Earl Grey.

Good luck!

May 16, 2017
The art of veterinary medicine

So, with less than three weeks until finals, my friends and I have finished rotations. Some of us have had job interviews and some have accepted job offers. This is all getting a bit real…

Supposedly, we’re ready to take on the outside world as real vets. We’ve got heads full of knowledge and hands that have meticulously repeated sutures, catheterisations, and injections to maintain muscle memory. But what we haven’t got is experience.

Sure, we’ve consulted while on rotations and, before that, we had communication skills tutorials, and although these were realistic – with very good actors screaming at you for losing their hypothetical cat out the practice window or bursting into tears as you explain that their dog died under anaesthetic – they just aren’t quite the same.

Gaining experience

Any consultations we have done on rotations have been fairly straightforward, with the vet in the background to interject or, at least, within shouting/pager distance to check anything you’re unsure of.

We have been involved in high stakes situations where things have gone wrong or an animal’s life has depended on the treatment and care we’ve contributed to – and as much as rotations are aimed at making you think and make your own decisions, you’re always steered in the right direction, or someone intervenes before you do something momentously stupid.

We may feel like we’re carrying a good deal of responsibility at times but, at the end of the day, it hasn’t been our necks on the line.

Cash concerns

“We are assigned a number of tasks throughout final year that make us consider cost […] but you never really have to have that conversation with the owner as such.” Image © Andy Dean / Fotolia.

And what about money? A lot of our consulting in final year is done at charity clinics, where the treatment is often free or very cheap. This means treatment options are much more limited, so you learn how to approach things on a budget, but you never really have to have that conversation with the owner as such.

Any consults done at the university’s small animal hospital are referrals – many of which are long-standing patients coming in for rechecks, so the owners have already been dealing with the insurance or have sorted payment with the reception staff.

We are assigned a number of tasks throughout final year that make us consider cost, such as discussing the costs of anaesthesia and treatment options for certain conditions, or pricing farm visits in first opinion practice. But again, it isn’t really us, the students, making the final decisions based on the client’s budget.

In at the deep end

So we’ve got the veterinary science bit nailed (well, hopefully – finals pending). But going into that first day as a qualified vet is going to be nerve-wracking for everyone, and that’s when the education will really begin. That’s where we will learn the things no one can really teach you, nor can you pick up until you are the vet making the final decisions – your neck on the line.

No one can teach you how to hold your tongue when the client opposite you is being completely irrational, or how to keep your composure when another breaks down in tears over the death of a pet, which you are really quite emotionally invested in too.

Having the internal battle with yourself over what the ideal diagnostic or treatment protocol would be, versus what is realistically affordable, becomes something of an art – there’s no formula or calculation to work out the best approach. As for actually having the responsibility on your own shoulders, and not falling apart when things go wrong, that takes resilience.

These are all things that will come with experience. It will be a steep learning curve, I’m sure, but essential if we’re to embark on the journey of life after vet school and master the art of veterinary medicine.

April 30, 2017
It’s good to talk…
The issue of poor mental health in the veterinary profession as a whole is becoming more recognised, and has sparked the launch of initiatives such as Mind Matters and Vetlife’s helpline service. But what about vet students specifically?

Despite not being selected for the sports teams she tried out for initially, Jordan (mounted) got on to the riding team during her second year at Glasgow.

When I was applying for vet school, I remember numerous people told me the hardest part is getting in… well, they lied. Having now spent five years at Glasgow, I can’t even comprehend why they would spread that awfully inaccurate myth.

My first inkling this oft-repeated phrase was totally unfounded came during one of our first lectures where my entire second year of A-level physics was summed up in an hour – and the pace only continued to pick up from there.

Difficult beginnings

Along with the personal struggles of moving away to university (in my case, 300 miles from home), not being selected for the sports teams I tried out for and the social pressures (feeling I had to take part in things despite feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep), it was hard.

I also had a sense of emptiness – having worked my entire life towards getting into vet school, once I got there, it was like: “Now what?”

I began to wonder whether veterinary was really the right career for me and, in the first term, seriously considered leaving.

No alternative

One of the main things that kept me there was the simple fact I didn’t know what I would do instead. I took my car back with me after Christmas, which helped with logistical issues, and started an evening creative writing class that gave me the opportunity to get away from vet school and vet students every so often.

By the summer of first year, I still wasn’t convinced I would stay. I hinged my fate on exam results, deciding I wouldn’t have the motivation to resit them because my heart wasn’t in it.

Jordan and the team of volunteers with Bolivian NGO, Comunidad Inti Wara Yassi.

However, I passed, and bundled myself on to a plane to South America to undertake some EMS in the Amazon rainforest. My time in Bolivia was incredible and rekindled a long-forgotten passion.

After that, my vet school experience shifted massively. I suddenly loved being a vet student – I got on the riding team, became more involved with the social side of vet school and continued my love of writing through getting involved with the Association of Veterinary Students.

I was the definition of the “work hard, play hard” vet student, but it was all about balance – the negatives of being a vet student were being outweighed by the positives.

Serious doubts

I still wasn’t particularly enthused by the course and merrily carried on because I was coping. Besides, a veterinary degree didn’t have to culminate in a veterinary career.

Every exam period was a rite of passage to get to the next year. Before Christmas, one year, we had nine exams in eight days – I think I averaged two hours’ sleep a night that week, but we got on with it. Everyone moaned together and everyone came out the other side, one way or another.

Nobody is immune – even at later stages in the course, those students who were high achievers and never seemed phased by anything started having doubts – serious “I’ve been to discuss where my degree stands if I drop out now” doubts.

By fourth year, I’d reached a level of acceptance that, since I’d got this far, I may as well carry on.

A sense of equilibrium

I started final year rotations absolutely terrified, but took comfort in the shell-shocked looks reflected in my classmates’ faces on the first morning of medicine rounds in the small animal hospital. We were all in the same boat.

Yet, finally, I found my stride; I have absolutely loved final year. For the first time in five years, I didn’t regret my life choices and found myself thinking “this is exactly what I want to do”. I was fascinated by medicine and felt a real sense of achievement of actually doing things for myself, such as taking consults and performing surgery.

Again, some of my peers hit their “walls” during final year, but we got them over it.

Another nugget of advice “they” tell you is final year will fly by. That one, I’m afraid, is not a lie – I can hardly believe I’m sat here with 12 months of rotations behind me, already facing finals and job applications.

All in the same boat

Jordan eventually “found her stride” during final year rotations.

Everyone has a wobble at some point and thinks “why am I doing this to myself?” The important thing is to remember other people are probably feeling the same way.

Mine was very early on, when everyone else seemed to be loving life, and I felt so alone. I felt like I would let my family and friends down if I dropped out, so felt too ashamed to say anything. However, when I eventually voiced my feelings, it transpired a lot of people were thinking the same.

A lot of support is out there now, which can be accessed in different ways. Each university will have a formalised counselling service and many vet schools now have a peer support system in place – this has been a huge success at Glasgow.

Meanwhile, Vetlife offers confidential telephone support to vets and vet students alike if you need an impartial, anonymous ear.

Feelin’ good

Glasgow recently held “Feel Good February”, a month of events and activities to raise awareness of these services and promote good mental well-being around the vet campus, part of which involved defining the problem at Glasgow specifically.

The Glasgow University Veterinary Medical Association revealed the results of a survey, which showed:
- 62% of current vet students felt stress had a negative impact on their everyday life
- 89% felt it was normal to feel stressed during a veterinary degree
This normalisation of stress can lead to students feeling they should be able to deal with it, but that the inability to cope will not translate well to life as a vet. It’s a very tough course for a number of reasons, including the workload that was described by our professor, Ian Ramsey, as “savage” in an STV interview.

However, this perception students should be stressed leads to an inability to speak out, for fear of seeming weak and “not cut out” for veterinary.

So worth it

I cannot imagine where I would be now if I hadn’t carried on with my veterinary degree. I’m so grateful friends and family supported me through everything and I made it to the point of starting a veterinary career knowing wholeheartedly this is what I want to do.

If you’re thinking of dropping out, please talk to someone – I can guarantee they’ve felt the same at some point. And if you’re having a particularly tough rotation or coming up to exams, power through and help each other – it’ll be worth it in the end!
April 15, 2017
Stitches

Legality within the veterinary profession can be a bit of a minefield, especially when it comes to things like drug licensing. This leaves many new graduates in fear of doing something against the law without even realising.

However, while some veterinary legal principles are complicated but clear, others are genuinely vague, leaving us unsure on where we would stand in a court of law.

A stab in the dark

It was recently reported that stab victims, scared of the inevitable police involvement if they were to present at A&E, were turning to vets to have their wounds sutured, albeit at a handsome price of about £200. While the morality of doing a procedure such as suturing on people may be questionable, the legality certainly is.

The RCVS clearly states vets are not legally allowed to prescribe pharmaceutical products for people, but they have no specific guidelines on wound treatment.

It could be argued that, ethically, suturing should involve the use of some form of local anaesthetic (either by a local block or a transcutaneous patch) and, therefore, cannot be allowed as this would involve drug administration.

However, that’s not to say a person can’t consent to old fashioned gritting their teeth and bearing temporary pain for the sake of saving a four-hour wait in A&E.

Friend or foe?

For those who could be potentially incriminated if they sought medical help at a hospital, you can sort of understand why they’d ask someone else, like a vet, for stitches. But they aren’t alone…

A number of vets who become injured either on the job, or elsewhere, will seek the help of their colleagues, rather than take the majority of a day off to wait for the NHS to achieve a vastly similar result. After all, vets are pretty damn good at suturing and would arguably do a better job than the junior doctor on an emergency ward.

You could discuss the ethics of whether a vet should help someone who needs medical attention in varying situations and whether they are legally allowed to do so. However, charging for the service is an altogether different matter – stitching up a fellow vet, or even a family member, wouldn’t raise the question of fees, but a stranger who walks in off the street?

Cash in hand

A BBC article from 3 March (Stab victims ‘paying vets to stitch up their wounds’) reported the “going rate” to be around £200 – does this not infer the image of an underground medical procedure market, whereby vets can earn a bit of extra cash to extend their services to animals of the two-legged kind?

You have to admit, when you consider the rough cost of a bitch spay at around £150 (weight and complication-dependent), that figure has quite an impressive profit margin. Once a vet charges for the privilege, it becomes a business venture, not just an act of goodwill.

Stab victims are reportedly turning to vets to have their wounds sutured, in an attempt to avoid police involvement. IMAGE: vzmaze / fotolia.

And yet the NHS is screaming for help in A&E departments. With average waiting times at an extreme high, it’s begging prospective patients to consider whether their ailments are worthy of the emergency room or whether they could be seen elsewhere – the GP, minor injuries, pharmacy… and now the vet?

By applying skills used on animals every day, would vets not be easing some of the burden on our struggling NHS?

Risky business

But what if something went wrong? An infection of a wound, of which the bearer couldn’t explain who sutured it, should surely raise some eyebrows – and, after all, with vets being legally unable to prescribe drugs to people, the injured party could not return to the surgeon responsible and ask for antibiotics.

This is where the legal grey area becomes pertinent. Where would a vet stand if sued for wound breakdown? Members of the Veterinary Defence Society are supported for claims against their actions involving animals… but humans?

There are a lot of unanswered questions that, for me, make conducting procedures such as suturing on members of the public too risky.

Final decision?

It may be different if it were a colleague or close family member who understands the trust he or she is putting in you to do a “simple” procedure works both ways. However, even then, it’s not without elements of risk.

On a wider scale, should we, as a profession, be seen to advocate such practice? Or should our representing bodies be defining the limits of our medical interventions and reprimanding those who see the injured public as a business opportunity?

But then, would we live in even more fear of being prosecuted just for helping a fellow vet who knows full well what he or she is agreeing to?

March 20, 2017
Final-year students get their kit off for charity calendar

A sneak peek at this year’s charity calendar.

As the end of vet school draws ever nearer, my fellow final-year students have been busy not only completing rotations, but also organising a number of events and keepsakes to act as a well-deserved send-off.

With the final-year dinner, graduation ball, final-year holiday and yearbook, we have been inundated with requests for ideas, contributions and cash.

To add to this, a number of final-year students have taken on the challenge of facing the often-gruelling weather of the north, lurking around the library after nightfall and sidling into the hospital out of hours to continue a long-standing tradition of the University of Glasgow School of Veterinary Medicine – the soon-to-be-new-graduates’ naked calendar.

Time-honoured tradition

The calendar has been a Glasgow vet school tradition for many years.

My colleagues have been baring flesh across the Scottish countryside and around the vet campus to contribute to a masterpiece of (for the most part) tasteful animal, vet or countryside-themed photos, to raise money for a number of great causes. The final-year naked calendar has been an annual fund-raiser for many years and the tradition has not died with the class of 2017.

Proceeds from sales of the calendar will be split between The Trusty Paws Clinic and Students for Animals in Need (SAIN), with a small proportion going towards our graduation ball.

It’s fantastic to be able to use the calendar tradition to support the much-loved student charities Glasgow vet school is proud to be home to.

The calendars are being sold at a pre-sale price of £8 until the end of March and will be then be available for £10 each. To order, email Alice at 2019429C@student.gla.ac.uk for bank transfer details and state how many copies are required.

Trusty Paws

The Trusty Paws Clinic was set up in Glasgow to provide free veterinary care to dogs belonging to the homeless. Students from stages of the veterinary course are involved in gaining resources, fund-raising and organisation of the monthly clinics.

The clinics involve fourth year students, supervised by a qualified vet, volunteering to conduct clinical examinations and administer basic treatments such as vaccinations, worming and flea control. I had the pleasure of being involved in a clinic last year, which enabled me to experience how appreciative the owners are.

Resources for the dogs – such as coats, food, collars and toys – are also given out at the clinics, thanks to donations via an Amazon wish list. The charity has now expanded to London, too, where RVC students run the clinics.

For more information, visit the clinic’s website.

Students for Animals in Need

SAIN is a charity set up and run by students at Glasgow vet school, and offers financial aid for animals presented to the university’s Small Animal Hospital and Weipers Centre Equine Hospital that may not otherwise be able to receive the treatment they require.

Students from all year groups contribute to fund-raising and assessment of eligible cases. A number of animals have benefited from the funding available over the years.

More details can be found on the SAIN website.

March 1, 2017