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EMS: life, death and lost holidays

EMS is something I haven’t touched on too deeply, which is odd considering how much of a vet student’s life it takes up.

For those not familiar with the term, EMS stands for extra-mural studies: work experience conducted outside of university term time.

Each vet school organises its EMS slightly differently, but at Bristol we’re required to complete a total of 12 weeks preclinical work experience over the first two years of our course (“preclinical” essentially meaning anything from shadowing a vet nurse in practice to shovelling manure in a stable). It’s basically to get everybody up to speed where animal handling skills are concerned, regardless of individual animal backgrounds. Levelling the playing field as it were.

As a second year student, this is the world I’m living in and, since I completed roughly 12 weeks of work experience to get into university in the first place, as you can imagine, EMS has become a big part of my life, and roughly a third of this year‘s summer holidays.

Pros and cons

There are highs and lows to every aspect of uni, but it can be difficult not to let the sheer volume of extra work that needs to be done get to you. Vet students, after all, have some of the highest numbers of contact hours among their cohorts, up there with medicine and dental students, who are also required to carry out extra non-curricular work when the majority of the student body are taking three or four months off.

But it’s important to remember there’s a reason for it, and although you’re not yet aiding diagnoses or learning neutering techniques, preclinical EMS teaches you a lot of skills you’ll need to have by the time you first step into practice, such as patience with and confidence around animals.

It can also help prepare you for the harder aspects of the job, and that’s really what I want to address here.

“Preclinical EMS essentially means anything from shadowing a vet nurse in practice to shovelling manure in a stable,” explains second-year vet student Eleanor Goad. Image © Nigel Baker / Adobe Stock

There at the end

Working on a farm for any decent period of time will allow you to become familiar with two things: life and death.

Death is a part of the veterinary career that’s easy enough to understand as a concept, but far more difficult to teach in practice; vets face the death of patients regularly enough that their mental health as a profession rivals that of human medicine for being so staggeringly low. In my mind, it’s definitely an area of our education that could be improved upon, but the trouble is it’s so difficult to do.

For example, I have been volunteering at my local practice for almost seven years and yet I have never seen an animal euthanised. This isn’t for lack of opportunity but, rather, a case of respecting the owner. I’ve had to leave many a consult once the bad news is broken, regardless of the level of training because, quite understandably, having your animal euthanised is a very personal and emotional experience that you wouldn’t want a stranger observing – especially one with an open notebook and poised pen.

The (other) problem with death

The trouble is, giving patients the space they want and deserve might not be in their best interest in the long run – especially if it goes on to produce a generation of veterinarians who’ve never seen euthanasia until a whole three or four years into their training.

Nobody wants some trainee hovering over such a private and, often, devastating moment – I know I certainly wouldn’t – but if the procedure is to be done with the same level of maturity, professionalism and understanding as it demands, this takes observation and learning, like anything else.

This is one of the reasons why I think EMS plays such a vital role in shaping young vets outside of the lecture theatres and in the real world.

Perfectly placed

My latest placement is on a pig farm, and despite being one of the most enriching and enjoyable weeks I’ve completed so far, it has hit me, emotionally and personally, in way I had not anticipated.

I’ve spoken before about how working with livestock intended for human consumption is different from working with cherished pets (and it definitely is), but an animal is still an animal and, especially when you’re starting out, it can be difficult to acclimatise to the professional separation the job often entails.

That said, I’m incredibly glad for my experiences over the past week and in every placement I’ve been lucky enough to visit. Farmers and veterinary professionals alike offer up so much of their time and experience to help you improve your own skill set in ways you never even knew it needed. You grow in ways you didn’t expect and your opinions change a little bit each day in light of everything new you learn.

On paper, EMS might sound like a lot of lost holiday time and long days of manual labour but, in reality, you only get out what you put in. And what you get out is often invaluable.

July 22, 2019
Thank you for everything (so far)

I’ve talked before about how being a vet student is tough, and how getting into a place on a vet course is maybe tougher still – and I won’t lie to you, the studying, the extra hours put in after school, the weekends (if not weeks) spent knee deep in mud or muck (or a pungent mixture of both) all helped me gain my much-coveted place at university.

But, if I’m being honest, that’s only half of the story…

For every vet student (in fact, any student) who managed to get into university with half the support I had: for you I have the utmost respect.

I think I was around six years old when I first decided to become a vet – and, from that moment on, my family’s unwavering support is probably the main reason I made it.

The unglamorous bits

Looking back, I realise my parents probably put up with a lot more than the average parent would. There’s a necessity to start getting work experience as soon as possible when you’re looking to become a vet – not just to meet course requirements, but to make certain the job is actually for you. University makes it very expensive to change your mind.

Student blogger Eleanor Goad with her “kind and dedicated” mum, Sandra.

I wasn’t lucky enough to live down the road from many farms, so, back before I could drive, my dad drove me to countless placements across the country, with only the occasional grumble about the state I’d leave his car in. It turns out you pick up straw from a farm like sand from a beach and it really does get everywhere.

My mum works as a junior sister on an endoscopy ward, so she’s no stranger to the less glamorous parts of a job, but even she would recoil from the brown patches on my jeans after a day at the dairy – not to mention the stench as I walked through the door.

The emotional bits

Of course, there’s more to support than petrol and laundry. I’ve always been somewhat of a perfectionist and I think this – combined with the pressure of such a long-term dream – made exams, and the course application process in general, a very stressful time.

Through tears and sleepless nights, I always had someone to lean on – and even when I doubted myself, they never did.

They both took valuable time off from full-time jobs to come with me to open days and interviews – and when, last minute, I decided Surrey wasn’t the right fit for me (despite that it was right on our doorstep), my nan gave up her weekend to fly with me to Edinburgh.

On results day, my parents and I crammed together on the sofa, and I think we all screamed (and probably cried) when we learned I’d got in to Bristol.

Unwavering support

With no real animal background to speak of, my parents are undoubtedly a large drive behind why I decided to become a vet. When I was young, all I knew about my mum’s occupation was that she helped people, and that seemed like a pretty good job to have!

They’re both kind and dedicated people, and I think that’s what helps inspire me to work so hard on this course, even when it seems overwhelming. I might be in my second year of vet school, but the support didn’t stop when I walked onto campus; from food and toilet paper supplies to a warm voice on the end of the phone, I know they’ve got my back.

I should probably call home more often than I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not eternally grateful – both for everything they’ve done and continue to do.

April 13, 2019
Arts vs science: the path to vet school

In my interview at Bristol vet school I was asked (not for the first time) if I thought the arts were worth more than the sciences, or vice versa.

I’m the only vet student I know to have taken English as my third A-level, so, though I’m sure there are others, I feel like an academic minority.

I’m quite lucky, actually. Only a few years ago, it was mandatory to choose between maths or physics to study alongside the obligatory biology and chemistry if you wanted to get into vet school. For me personally, this would have been an impossible task and I would not be where I am today if I’d been forced to meet these criteria. These subjects were always difficult for me and I think three sciences might have overwhelmed me.

Escape from planet science

When the equations and chemical formulae all started to blend together, my English lessons became almost an escape into a different realm. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my other classes, but the different styles in learning and exam technique acted like a breath of fresh air.

When my interviewer asked me which set of subjects I felt more important I imagine it was half because this change in A-level requirements had only recently been implemented, but also to do with the reality that English and maths – the arts and the sciences – never really mix.

Back at school, I was the only person in my chemistry class taking English, and the only person in my English class taking chemistry.

Fact or fiction?

It seems most people lean heavily towards either bent. For me, the sciences have always been something that intrigued and excited me, but never came to me naturally. English, on the other hand, despite having no immediately obvious connection to my chosen career path, was a completely different story. I’m thankful I was able to further my studies in both and pursue an array of passions, despite their academic weight.

I don’t think any subject should be undervalued or considered “easy” because everybody’s strengths and weaknesses lie in different areas.

I’m thrilled today to channel my literary creativity and veterinary life into the singular locus that is this blog – it also goes to show the English A-level wasn’t entirely in vain. In fact, I’m not sure it was in vain at all. English isn’t simply about reading and writing, the fundamentals of both skills is communication – an invaluable commodity for any professional.

Be more

One of my favourite quotes, frequently attributed to Albert Einstein, is: “If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live it’s whole life believing that is stupid.”

I think it’s important for every person to branch out and diversify in life and research. I’ve written before how, in practice, clients are much happier to be met with a well-rounded, relatable individual rather than a walking fact file.

The more you know and expand your studies, no matter the direction, can’t help but make you more prepared and qualified to take on any vocation that calls you.

January 22, 2019
Knowing what you don’t know

One of the most exciting and yet terrifying things about being a veterinary student is the fact there is always more to know. You can be the best student and even the best vet in the world, but you can never know everything – it’s simply impossible.

I’m in the second year of my course and I’m still getting to grips with this fact; and I know it’s something a lot of other vet students struggle with too.

I think it’s completely understandable; every step towards getting into vet school is incredibly competitive: from day one we’re taught to push ourselves, branch out from our A-levels and be as knowledgeable as possible to stand out from the crowd. It’s only natural we follow this desire to learn and keep learning as we enter the course.

Know-it-all

But it’s important to realise you don’t need to know everything, while also acknowledging learning all the anatomy, physiology and biochemistry available won’t make you the best vet – or even a good one.

Of course, it’s vital you know your stuff (your clients put their trust in both you and your medical knowledge), but when people are trusting you with their animals – whether they are their best friends or livelihoods – they’re not expecting you to be a human encyclopedia.

No, they’re expecting another human being across that examination table; they’re expecting communication, a calm, professional confidence and a reassuring, friendly face in those moments that matter most.

Not by rote

GCSEs and A-levels train us to memorise textbooks like our lives depend on it, but that’s just not feasible when you get to university. In secondary school you’re lucky enough to have a set curriculum and a finite number of facts to learn. We no longer have that luxury, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

The fact there’s always more to discover, that I can never stop growing and improving – I find it amazingly exciting. Daunting, yes, but exciting nonetheless.

I’ve been volunteering at my local veterinary surgery for more than five years and I’ve seen all the staff, including the head vet, refer back to their textbooks on a regular basis – textbooks they bought and studied with all the way back in their first years of university.

Collective intelligence

At the end of the day, medical practitioners are only human; they have strengths and weaknesses. However, one of the key attributes of a good vet isn’t knowing it all, but applying existing knowledge to any situation that might present itself.

Our lecturers are constantly encouraging us to help each other through this course and to share our strengths with others. Working as an intellectual collective is a talent that carries through to general practice.

When I see my local vets duck out of the consult room to confer with their colleagues I don’t lose confidence in them; in fact, quite the opposite. Having the confidence to admit when you’re out of your depth is an invaluable skill and the sign of a true professional.

November 7, 2018
Friends or food?

The relationship between vets and animals is an odd one.

When I tell people the course I study, 90% of them ask me if I’m vegetarian; when I say no, all of them ask me why not – and, to be perfectly candid, I never really know what to tell them.

As a professional in practice, my relationship with animals will be as doctor to patient. This affiliation is simple enough. But when I go home, crack open the freezer and fry up a steak with a nice Sauvignon blanc, the line begins to get a little fuzzy.

Keeping a distance

Although the path my career is destined to take is still very much in the works, if I do decide to go into farm work then a certain emotional distance will have to be observed when treating patients. You have to find the perfect balance of respect for the animal and a desire to preserve life, but also the acknowledgement of that fact your patients are, and always intended to be, food.

One of the big things they taught us in the first week of vet school wasn’t scientific or mathematic. They told us, through the course, our attitude towards animals – what it meant to be a vet – was going to change.

I’d be lying if I said my own philosophy surrounding what I want to do with my life, as well as what I put on my plate, hasn’t evolved. It has, it definitely has – In fact, it still is.

Is meat murder?

“My course has forced me to confront the fact I see a beef cow and a golden retriever in very different ways.”

I know everybody has their own opinion on the subject. People tend to get very passionate about their own food choices and go to great lengths to defend them and convert other people to their way of seeing things, especially as the vegan lifestyle grows more popular.

As vets and as medical practitioners we are, of course, entitled to our opinions like everyone else, but when we step behind the examination table or don the metaphorical white coat, the way we conduct ourselves cannot always be driven by our own personal beliefs, but a combination of the welfare of the animal and concerns of the client.

The cute factor

We like things that are cute. Although some people go through life ignoring this fact, my course has forced me to confront the fact I see a beef cow and a golden retriever in very different ways. No matter how hungry I may be, I have never considered eating a dog – and yet I will one day be required to treat both.

I do not believe either is entitled to a higher standard of care and yet, quite obviously, I hold their lives in opposing regards.

Perhaps it’s purely cultural or the way my parents raised me (they’re both big meat eaters), perhaps it’s an intelligence thing – the fact I assume dogs have more cognitive awareness than the average cow – but this line of thinking does threaten to drag you down an ethical rabbit hole of sentience and animal rights.

Valuable lesson

So, perhaps it’s not that complicated, perhaps humans, on an unconscious level, simply love fluffy things.

As a veterinary student you are taught, from the off, to analyse your way of reasoning and question it. I think this might be one of the most valuable things they can ever teach us.

October 2, 2018
Corporate vet school
The announcement of a corporate veterinary group’s collaboration with the new Keele University/Harper Adams veterinary school struck a few chords, and seemingly opened a figurative can of worms that (like their literal parasitic counterparts) just doesn’t sit well in my gut.

A few points to consider here, the first of which I have written about before, although not about this particular arrival on the vet school scene.

More vet schools needed?

Do we need more vet schools? The short answer, in my opinion, is no. The employment crisis in the veterinary industry as it stands is multi-faceted – pluck a reason out of the air and it almost certainly has some impact on why practices are begging for vets:
- compassion fatigue
- poor working conditions
- work-life balance
- salary
- lack of long-term prospects
- Brexit
- client pressure
- under-supported young vets
I could talk about any one of these reasons at length (and have done), but, for the purposes of discussing the above gem of veterinary news, I will focus on the last point: support for new graduates or young vets.

Vicious cycle

“This lack of support leads to high stress levels, young vets becoming fed up and looking elsewhere for a different career that provides them with the mental stimulation they desire, but with better support, hours and pay to go with it.” Image © Michael Brown / Adobe Stock

Some practices are excellent at providing a nurturing environment for young vets, but many are not and often not through any fault other than lack of staff.

This lack of support leads to high stress levels, young vets becoming fed up and looking elsewhere for a different career that provides them with the mental stimulation they desire, but with better support, hours and pay to go with it – thus the vicious cycle of extremely talented young people leaving the profession after a few years begins.

Problem solver?

Will opening more vet schools help the staffing problem? No. It is a short-sighted, temporary solution to fill a gap nobody seems to be able to plug. But the more graduates that accept jobs from practices who ideally wanted an experienced vet and can’t source one, the worse the retention problem will become. It is unfair on both parties to take on a new grad if a practice does not have the resources to sufficiently train and help them through their first few years.

To solve the retention problem, the profession needs to improve working conditions and encourage vets to stay, not just find more avenues to farm out new grads to try and bridge the gap.

Are corporates good for the profession?

I could (and probably will) discuss corporates at great length, but there is no clear answer for them being good for the profession. Having been stung with the sore end of the corporate tail once before, I’m inclined to say no, but that would be based on my experience of one particular practice. Conversely, I have colleagues who work for corporate practices that seem to be very well run and provide a great environment for learning.

My opinion is not fact and, to keep it short and sweet, is summarised below:
- The idea behind corporate practices is often well meaning, but does not always work when put into practice. For example, the graduate schemes sound great, but only work if they are implemented correctly on an individual practice level.
- Some corporates are extortionately priced compared to independents – there is a fine line between charging appropriately and taking the biscuit. This is likely exaggerated because many independents have been selling themselves short for years; however, it is not okay to triple prices in a week when an independent practice is taken over. All it does is feed the myth that vets are only in it for the money.
- Long-established corporately owned practices seem to have better client satisfaction than practices newly acquired under a corporate brand as the shock of takeover, staff changes and price increases are long gone.
- Corporates aim to provide better working hours (a four-day week, for example) and flexible working patterns, but, again, this varies on an individual basis.
- The hand of many partners in independent practice has been forced as the profession continues to change. Young people do not have the disposable cash to buy into partnerships, as was the tradition. Corporates have taken advantage of this by buying out those wishing to retire without any new blood coming through.
Corporate practices can vary wildly even within the same group – much of it comes down to the individual practice, as with independents. As much as corporates offer many benefits with their nice shiny contracts, many independents match or better these. Likewise, an independent or corporate practice can be an equally catastrophic place to work in if managed badly at the practice level.

Now, to the elephant in the room…

Should a corporate group be running a vet school hospital?

Is a corporate running a vet school hospital any different from the outsourced rotation format of the other newest veterinary schools – Nottingham and Surrey – whereby they have no on-site university clinic, but rotations are undertaken in nearby hospitals?

“The hand of many partners in independent practice has been forced as the profession continues to change. Young people do not have the disposable cash to buy into partnerships, as was the tradition.” Image © MHChristine / Adobe Stock

The concern with new veterinary schools popping up and proposing this sort of final-year teaching is the associated practices are then less available to provide EMS placements for local students. The purpose-built corporate hospital that is to be partnered with the new veterinary school avoids this particular hurdle in part, at least (there’s no mention of an equine hospital or farm clinic), but is it still a good idea?

Remaining impartial

It comes down to whether the corporate presence is going to be ingrained into the teaching. Will the graduate scheme offered by the group be heavily recommended? Would the business structure and branded drugs be taught to the students?

At university, we were always told to learn drugs not brand names to remain impartial. Would that impartiality be maintained appropriately in a hospital that uses own-branded drugs and whose bigwig advisory boards dictate which products should and shouldn’t be offered?

Encouraging research into all available treatment and diagnostic options is a key aspect of learning and practising evidence-based medicine on rotations.

Familiarity breeds

Even if no direct corporate emphasis exists, surely the undercurrent is going to sway the students into applying for jobs in sister practices under a graduate scheme.

As a new grad, you are bewildered by everything and getting a heads-up on even the smallest of obstacles can make a huge different to your day in the first few weeks. Therefore, simple things, such as the practice management system used in every practice the group owns, may be enough to sway the decision between accepting one of two jobs, simply because using a system you’ve gotten used to on rotations will make your life that bit easier during day-to-day practice.

Conclusion

It remains to been seen if a corporate partnership with the new vet school will be a success for the students under their care and the profession as a whole, and I’ll withhold judgement for now.

However, with predictions corporate takeover will saturate at 70% of practices in the profession, it is undeniable the veterinary landscape is moving further adrift from its once independent roots as the corporate giants continue to tighten their grip.
August 1, 2018
Embrace change

Change can be scary. But it can also be exhilarating, liberating and exciting – and it happens all the time.

By the time you read this, for example, Harry and Meghan will have made one of the biggest changes possible by embarking on married life (read how some homeless hounds marked the occasion on page 1 of June’s edition of VN Times).

Closer to home, plans to open the UK’s ninth vet school in 2020 have been given the green light (page 1) and it is anticipated the collaboration between Keele and Harper Adams Universities will foster strong relationships between vets, RVNs and animal care professionals from the start.

Dare to dream

Effecting change or undertaking a challenge takes strength and bravery – from creating a district VN conference (page 2) to volunteering abroad (page 2). Yet daring to dream pays off, as you will see in the pages that follow. For my part, becoming VN Times editor is a big change, but a dream come true, and I am honoured to be penning (or rather, typing) this foreword.

I have long admired the profession and am constantly inspired by, and in awe of, your dedication and commitment – not only to animals you care for, but owners, colleagues and people outside the veterinary sphere, who you help in so many ways on a daily basis.

Danny Kaye once said: “Life is a great big canvas; throw all the paint you can at it.” I invite you to use this magazine as your own canvas to share your news, views and ideas.

Wonderful things occur in the profession every day – from fund-raisers and scientific breakthroughs, to personal achievements and team victories, and I, for one, cannot wait to hear all about them.

So, as we step into the future together, I urge you to be proud of who you are and what you do, and embrace change. Exciting times are ahead, and who knows? Perhaps the best is yet to come…

June 8, 2018
Occupational hazards
Before I started vet school, I attended a workshop for aspiring vets where students shared anecdotes about the various occupational ailments they had experienced or witnessed over the years.

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

However, some colleagues were not so lucky…

Illnesses and injuries

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

TB testing – one of the most dangerous veterinary tasks.

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

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

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

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

Crushed crush

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

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

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

First-hand experience

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

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

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

Not the only ones

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

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

So, maybe we’re not the only medical profession at such a high risk of injury, we’re just exposed to slightly different dangers.
January 1, 2018
Aggressive patients

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

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

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

Exposure

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

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

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

Near misses

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

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

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

Support each other

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

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

October 16, 2017
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