staging.vettimes.com

Tag: Students

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
Don’t fear tuition fees
With the upcoming general election, the question of changing tuition fees has cropped up again.

People obsess over the fact rising tuition fees are putting poorer families off from sending their children to university. But I think they’ve got it wrong – tuition fees aren’t the problem.

Struggling with debt? Poor or middle-of-the-road people struggle because they don’t have enough “maintenance”, not because they have to pay tuition. IMAGE: pathdoc / Fotolia.

Tuition fees are only paid back once you earn enough to manage it. Therefore, they don’t affect the student in the present, while he or she is studying. Out of interest, I recently logged into my student loan repayment account and was presented with a pretty scary number.

Irrelevant

Having calculated what I’ll pay back on my starting salary, I found, to begin with, the debt will actually continue to increase because I would be paying off less than the interest that accumulates every year. That just seems ludicrous – how will I ever pay it off? The answer is I won’t. The loan is written off after 30 years; so, assuming I won’t come into a massive sum of money or win the lottery, the total owed is irrelevant.

I’m not really sure of the economics of how on earth the loan companies or government can find this sustainable, but I’m just discussing how it affects the students here.

The point is, we should ignore that big scary number of total debt and just think of it as a graduate tax. You go to university to get a good education, which should give you the knowledge and skills to get a better career or progress more quickly within that career. For that, you accept a (very small) proportion of your pay packet every month disappears into the ether of student loan repayment – and, since you don’t pay it back until you reach the threshold for repayment, it is not unaffordable.

Surviving during semesters

What is unaffordable is trying to survive at university with nothing in your bank account. Poor or middle-of-the-road people struggle because they don’t have enough “maintenance”, not because they have to pay tuition. The issue is having enough money to live off now.

It’s all very well suggesting students get part-time jobs to help them pay their way through university, but that can be detrimental to the end result as it takes away time from studying and, in some degrees – such as veterinary – it becomes near impossible due to contact time and, later, rotations and clinics.

Some people do manage it, and fair play to them, but it’s certainly tough.

Stuck in the middle

IMAGE: rutchapong / Fotolia.

It’s not just the poor who struggle. In fact, the poor are better off because of means testing. It’s often the people in the middle who are stuck – those whose fates have been decided by some higher power that has ruled they’ll receive less government funding because their parents’ income means they should be able to support their children.

Wrong!

That’s okay for the rich, but for those in the middle, the family often cannot afford to stump up the difference.

What about mature students? It’s ridiculous they are still means-tested even though they could well have been living independently for years without the financial support of their parents and may not even have anything to do with them anymore.

Measured maintenance

Maintenance should not be one size fits all either. Vocational degrees, such as veterinary, require many more materials than arts degrees, for example. Over the five years of my veterinary degree, I bought:
- protective clothing (boiler suits, lab coats, wellies, waterproofs, scrubs, gloves and hospital shoes)
- equipment (a thermometer, stethoscope and dissection kit)
- books amounting to an estimated £700 (not including my laptop)
On top of that, there’s the petrol and accommodation costs of EMS placements and rotations, not to mention the fact having to do EMS in holiday time takes away the opportunity to get a summer job.

Veterinary is an expensive degree, with many applicants not quite realising how much so until they’re in too deep. So, surely maintenance grants and loans should reflect that?

The political parties are isolating young people and students for various reasons, and part of me believes it’s because they don’t understand what we want or need. We need to stop obsessing over tuition fees and ask the students themselves why they are struggling.
June 2, 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
Getting the most out of EMS placements

A few weeks ago, I finished my last final year rotation, and I’m days away from finishing my last ever EMS placement – where has the time gone?!

Everybody warned us final year would fly by, but this is ridiculous. Surely it can’t be almost a year since I sat in one of the small animal hospital meeting rooms, practically shaking with fear on my first day of emergency medicine – my first day of final year – and yet, here I am.

With 12 weeks of preclinical and 26 weeks of clinical EMS under my belt, I’ve picked up a few handy tips along the way.

On the whole, I’ve had some fantastic placements, seen some incredible things and travelled to a number of far-flung destinations, but (as ever), with hindsight, there are a few things I may have done differently.

So, for those students in their earlier years, here are some things to bear in mind.

Plan your placements

This sounds obvious, and the majority of placements will need to be planned well in advance (often a year or more), purely due to practice availability. But, if you have the luxury of choice (if the practice has lots of free dates), really think about what you want to achieve before final year, and try to have at least a taste of small animal, farm and equine before rotations, if possible.

I got to final year and realised I’d had very limited experience in farm practice, so felt a bit lost at the beginning of the farm rotation. However, having now done more farm EMS – which accidentally ended up all happening at the end of final year – I feel so much more confident.

Also, think about how much EMS you want to do at which stages of the course.

You have to spread it out and start somewhere, and while you need to give yourself some downtime in final year, I think you also get a lot more out of placements the further through the course you are.

Listen to recommendations

Talk to people in your year and in the years above.

Some practices are really keen to teach, which results in a much more helpful experience for you and them alike.

The quality of your EMS placements can make a real difference – don’t get stuck somewhere you’re only allowed to stand in the corner and watch.

Do a spay clinic

Spay clinics allow you to gain hands-on experience that may be tricky to come by otherwise.

The quality of the surgery might be different to what you would see in the UK, but these clinics allow you to get hands-on experience, which may be more tricky to come by at home.

You will practise tissue handling, suturing and ligature placement – all transferable skills.

Again, listen carefully for recommendations as some clinics are better than others.

Be adaptable

There’s more than one way to skin a cat – likewise, you’ll see many different approaches to the same technique, which could be something as simple as giving an IV injection.

I was “told off” in the university hospital for giving a horse an IV the way I’d been shown on EMS. The following week – on the first opinion part of our rotation – I was told to do it a different way, again.

Learn how your supervising vet would like you to do things to stay out of trouble, but in the end you will find your own preference.

Take tips on board

The vets you meet on EMS have been in practice a while – they’ve made their mistakes and got the T-shirt, so take stock of any handy tips they might give.

Recently, one vet expressed surprise I was rectalling cows with my “strong” hand (I’m right handed), but didn’t really expand on why they were taught to use the left.

Another, older vet, strongly advised me to switch to my weaker arm because “years of having your hand squeezed inside a cow will give you horrendous arthritis”, and you’d rather that happen to your left hand and keep your right hand working. Subsequently, I swapped and soon felt competent with my left hand. I do still think the right hand is better for horses though…

Most importantly, while it can be difficult to tread the line between being too imposing and too shy, you do need to put yourself out there. Offer to do things to help you know you’re capable of, such as setting up a fluid bag.

And, most importantly, enjoy yourself!

April 3, 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
Eating disorders and the veterinary profession

The general public associates the word “anorexia” with the eating disorder characterised by refusing to eat to lose weight, which, in human medicine, has the more specific name of “anorexia nervosa”. As vets, we use the word the term “anorexic” in the slightly different sense of being a clinical sign our patients exhibit – defined as “a lack or loss of appetite”.

Is the veterinary profession practising what it preaches when it comes to nutrition?

When referring to vets themselves, however, these definitions blur together a little, but I believe many vets frequently exhibit clinical signs that may or may not be part of an eating disorder.

While there is a lack of hard evidence or figures for eating disorders within the veterinary profession, it is estimated 10% of UK veterinary students suffer from eating disorders (not limited to anorexia nervosa), which is higher than the figure for the general UK population, which sits at 6.4%. (vetlife.org.uk).

Another branch

We are all made very aware of the mental health statistics and suicide risk of vets, and eating disorders are another branch of that tree.

Despite the lack of evidence to back up the theory, based on anecdotes alone, I’m willing to bet eating disorders, or even intermittent “anorexia” (the clinical sign), are more prevalent in qualified vets than the general population.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been on EMS and spent the entire day in the car with the same vet, going from call to call and not seeing them eat once.

I’m probably on the other end of the scale; I tend to get indigestion and heartburn from excess stomach acid production if I don’t eat regularly enough, so I tend to stress about the next time I’m going to eat (which turns into a vicious cycle because those symptoms also develop as a result of that stress). Therefore, I always try to ensure I have a packed lunch so I never get caught out.

On the road

Veterinary professionals on the road can often find themselves picking up fast food, which will be of long-term detriment to their health.

The number of ambulatory equine or farm vets who don’t appear to carry food in their cars is astounding.

They often rely on getting time to stop for food – which, inevitably, results in them not eating for the whole working day or picking up unhealthy fast food or snacks, which isn’t really much better.

When discussing my observations with fellow students, many of them have similar tales, and the problem is not limited to ambulatory practice.

While many vets and nurses in small animal practice will have a slightly more routine structure to their working lives, there’s always the odd mad day, week or month when they just can’t seem to grab a minute to supply their digestive system between consults, surgeries and emergencies.

Despite my own claim of always being prepared to avert such situations, sometimes they’re unavoidable.

I’ve found myself a few select times during rotations when I’ve been so rushed off my feet, trying to get everything done or see clients, that I haven’t eaten lunch until well after 4pm. Then, it’s likely I’ve got to that stage of being “past hungry”, but, as it is at that point I normally get headachey and feel a bit weak, I force something down despite not really wanting it any more.

Can’t or won’t?

Now, there’s a subtle difference between anorexia (a “lack of appetite”) and physically not having a chance to eat despite the grumbling in your stomach and the agonising knowledge there’s a pretty decent lunch waiting in the fridge in the next room – but it’s a fine line.

If a client has been waiting 20 minutes for you already, surely another two won’t hurt while you inhale a sandwich? Are vet staff just too busy to eat sometimes or are they not finding the time themselves? No matter how stressed and busy you are, you should still be able to satisfy the basic human right of being able to eat.

I believe the problem of the profession not eating properly is a combination of possible eating disorders, stress related anorexia and the working environment.

Take responsibility

Finding time to eat is crucial, says Jordan, for the health of both the profession and its patients.

I have previously expressed my opinion of the poor work-life balance within the UK veterinary profession, and ignoring rest breaks that are a legal requirement in almost any other field – while not entirely to blame – certainly doesn’t make it easy for vets to look after themselves.

On the other hand, vets need to take personal responsibility for their own health and find time to eat during the working day – if you don’t look after number one, you won’t be providing optimal care to your patients.

As much as skipping one meal might seem like a short-term solution to helping a patient that little bit sooner, it will be at the detriment of your clinical ability in the long term.

Evidently, this is not a clear cut problem and, as such, there’s no fix-all solution.

However, I think vocalising these issues is a good starting point if we wish to become a more healthy, sustainable profession in the future.

November 2, 2016
The consigned colleague conundrum

Many universities put veterinary students into groups for final year rotations, in which they remain for the year. Others keep students in the same group for the majority of rotations and shuffle them around for selectives only.

However, selective rotations at the University of Glasgow run throughout the year and, to accommodate as many of the students’ choices as possible, we have a different group of students for every rotation.

Another difference between the universities is whether students have a choice with regards to the group of people they are put with.

Familiarity breeds…

Original image © grgroup / fotolia.

Some universities allow students to name one or two people they would like to be in groups with (if possible), or even name students they really don’t want to be in groups with – all in the strictest confidence, of course.

We don’t get a choice at Glasgow, but scope exists to swap groups, once the rotation timetable is released, if you change your mind about selectives or want to avoid someone in particular.

Is one method superior to the others? Being in the same group for the year could result in a strong team who know each other really well and play to each other’s strengths and weaknesses. But, on the other hand, it could also easily become tiresome if niggling annoyances build up throughout the year.

Where students are able to suggest colleagues they would like (or not) to be grouped with, the likelihood of begrudging fellow students in your group could be minimised, but, ultimately, isn’t likely to be eliminated entirely.

Hobson’s choice

Should we get a say, though? In the real world of work (now only nine months away) we aren’t likely to get a choice about who we work with, unless a very strong first impression is made that would make you either very keen to take a job or extremely put off.

Ideally, we need to be able to work with a range of different people – those we do and don’t like – in a professional context and keep personal grievances out of the workplace. Realistically this can be difficult, but we may as well start learning how to do that now.

I think changing groups every rotation provides a balance between being thrown in with people you may not know very well (or like very much) and not being stuck with them for an extended period of time; each of our rotations are four weeks in duration.

So far, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know people I’d previously barely, if ever, spoken to and, in some cases, building solid new friendships. I’m obviously biased because I love Glasgow, but I think we’ve nailed the system perfectly.

August 31, 2016
Change for the better

The UK veterinary profession is suffering.

While a documented shortage of graduates does not exist as in previous years, significantly less fuss has been kicked up about the announcement of the new Aberystwyth-in-conjunction-with-RVC vet school, compared with the opening of the Surrey Vet School in 2014.

Surrey vet school: a bolt from the blue?

Is this because we knew Aberystwyth was in the pipeline so are not shocked by the announcement, or has the profession kept quiet because we do need more vets?

The problem is not a lack of graduates, but a lack of “experienced vets” and a shortage of vets staying in the profession after a few years of graduation.

This begs the question: why?

The simple answer is, as shown in last year’s “Voices from the future of the veterinary profession” survey conducted by Vet Futures, the profession, in its current state, does not meet expectations of those entering it.

Essentially, we feel undervalued, underpaid and overworked, and lack a sense of life outside veterinary.

Undervalued

The profession has an image problem, in many respects. It is becoming more commercialised, not just because of corporate takeover, but because clients expect more.

We seem to be moving away from the respected professionals who have dedicated their lives to helping animals and, as such, are praised for performing little short of a miracle in medical and surgical feats, and towards the providers of a service that, if not absolutely perfect and costs next to nothing, will only be complained about and bad-mouthed to other customers and competitors.

Sadly, the economic climate has caused much scaremongering, bringing vets to the absolute disposal of the pet owner for fear of losing clients and, therefore, not being able to balance the books.

I feel very strongly part of the reason our services are so undervalued is the NHS (See Jordan’s July 2014 blog post, “I Blame the NHS“).

The everyday person has no concept of how much medical procedures, diagnostics and therapeutics cost. I’ve done the research – prices for private medical care are found fairly easily, but NHS costs? Nigh impossible.

So how can we blame the public for not having a clue how much a radiograph costs? The public perception of veterinary in this country needs to change and I don’t think it will without transparency on human medical costs in conjunction with our veterinary ones.

Overworked

“I struggle to see how many full-time vets’ hours fall within the legal limit,” says Jordan. Image © alarts / Fotolia.

Depending on the kind of practice you’re in, or going into, the relative feeling of being overworked will differ. I realise my points won’t apply to every practice in the country and this is sweeping general opinion on the UK profession as a whole. However, I struggle to see how many full-time vets’ hours fall within the legal limit.

The legislation is complex, with loopholes in the Working Time Regulations 1998 (WTR) possibly allowing certain practices to skirt round some of the “rules”, such as the designated 11-hour consecutive rest break in each 24-hour period and the minimum 24-hour rest break in each 7-day period.

On-call work is difficult to classify, but, in essence, the signing of a workforce agreement (probably as part of an employment contract) means the employee is agreeing to to provide out-of-hours cover that impinges on these designated rest breaks.

Some final year rotations at university I know are well beyond the limits set by the WTR (although the legality is sketchy since we’re not employed while we’re students).

“It’s not a nine-to-five job,” was a comment given with regard to rotation hours. That’s tough love: you’re going to be worked into the ground when you qualify, so you may as well get used to it now. But why? Why can’t veterinary be a nine-to-five job? It certainly is in other countries.

The profession is changing and I really hope this is the kind of change that comes about nationwide. With the increasing popularity of outsourced out-of-hours cover and shift work, why can’t a vet clock off at 5pm, enjoy some exercise, cooking, social activity, whatever and come back to work refreshed the next day ready to put in 110%?

Achieving work-life balance

We have numerous talks at uni about mental health awareness and the importance of work-life balance. But how is it possible to achieve a work-life balance if you’re working from 8am to 8pm and, even on the nights you’re not on call, you essentially only have time to grab something to eat and sleep.

What kind of life is that?

“It’s all very well lecturing us on being conscious of having a work-life balance, but what if it is beyond our control?” Image © DOC RABE Media / Fotolia.

It’s all very well lecturing us on being conscious of having a work-life balance, but what if it is beyond our control, as in so many cases?

I know for a fact, if the profession remains stuck in its ways, I will become just another statistic and leave the UK, if not the profession entirely, within a few years.

Don’t get me wrong, I have loved my rotations so far and the sense of fulfilment when I’m actually getting a handle on things is excellent, but I know I will resent my job if it does not allow for some enjoyment outside of veterinary.

But will it ever change? I think something has to give soon, or the profession will find itself in dire straits before long. How would change come about? If we wait for one practice or chain to provide a great work-life balance and rely on the trend to catch on, I think we’ll be waiting a lifetime. But what if the regulations changed?

I don’t really want to talk about Brexit (I’m sure a little piece of me dies inside every time that word is uttered), but the potential change to employment law (which has mainly been derived from the EU) could allow for changes specific to medical professions to protect us from “burnout”.

Overtime pay should exist in the veterinary world, as it does in any other “normal” job, allowing for those maniacs who want to work 24 hours a day to do so at their leisure (or those who need the extra cash), but not at the detriment to those who don’t wish to. Working out a vet’s base salary as an hourly basis is just depressing. And it shouldn’t be.

I keep hearing phrases such as “the profession is changing” and “it’s an exciting time”. I genuinely hope that is the case and we become the progressive generation we like to think we are, and drag the profession kicking and screaming with us into the modern world of enjoying life outside veterinary and moulding our careers around our lives – not the other way around.

July 30, 2016
An irrational fear of the final year

Having averaged four hours’ sleep a night for a couple of weeks, I came out of fourth year exams alive… just.

Poster image created online with the Keep Calm-o-Matic.

Sleeping pattern ruined, and a number of family and friends to see in quick succession (seeing as the next time I’ll be “home home” will be in five months or so), the four-day “summer holiday” we were given was anything but restful.

Midway through a week of induction lectures and “how to cope with real life” talks, the prospect of final year rotations beginning in five days’ time is becoming very real.

However, I think the induction week has had the opposite of the desired effect and, subsequently, I am anticipating my first week in the hospital with utter terror.

Panic mode

In theory, we should have the knowledge base to cope with whatever they throw at us in final year. However, in my panic-stricken state, I can only imagine drawing a blank at the first case I’m given and already feel sick at the thought of looking like the idiot I’m almost certain I am.

I feel under-prepared and tired from the last few weeks, not to mention the fact I don’t know if I’ve passed the exams and deserve to be in the hospital in the first place.

Several family members have asked me if it feels like my time at vet school has gone quickly, to which I can only answer “yes and no” – on one hand, it feels like I’ve always been at vet school; on the other, final year has sprung suddenly out of nowhere.

Time flies

Sound familiar?

More relaxed times seem a long way off, such as soaking up the German sun at a yearling auction, or paddling waist-deep through a swamp to care for a puma. Even scrubbing into orthopaedic surgery a month ago seems much more distant. Time flies when you’re having fun… or are kept stupendously busy by the various aspects of vet school.

While this transition feels tough, I’m sure tougher ones are ahead (such as this time next year, when we’re all about to enter the real world of work), but I’ll worry about those closer to the time.

I can only hope students in the year above (those finishing final year), who claim they felt the same way when starting rotations, were speaking the truth and, somehow, as unlikely as it seems right now, we’ll come out the other side as qualified, competent vets.

The question now is whether to spend the next few days – between the remaining induction lectures – catching up on sleep or frantically trying to relearn everything I’m supposed to already know…

May 4, 2016