staging.vettimes.com

Tag: veterinary school

Language: lost (or gained) in translation?

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

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

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

Slipping

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

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

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

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

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

Beneath the surface

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

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

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

Justification?

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

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

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

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

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

September 1, 2017
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
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 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
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
The blind leading the blind
As part of one of our small animal rotations, I spent a couple of days with the ophthalmology service at the University of Glasgow Small Animal Hospital.

Recognising common eye conditions and being able to localise lesions was uncharted territory for Jordan before her time with the ophthalmology service. Image: thenineworld / fotolia.

Not exactly the most clued-up on eyes, I was going in almost blind. I had an idea of common eye conditions and how to manage them, but recognising them and being able to localise a lesion in an eye was uncharted territory.

After a mind-boggling tutorial in which we tried to drag physics from the depths of our brains (A-levels were five years ago), consults began – and with them, ocular examination after examination after examination.

By the end of day one, despite my brain feeling fairly frazzled, I felt I could locate roughly where in the eye a problem was and begin to deduce differentials, or at least know which chapter of the book to look in.

We discussed the differences between referral and first opinion practice. One of the main reasons eye conditions are misdiagnosed or missed is simply lack of time in the consult room.

For example, if you have a five-minute consult and want to do a Schirmer’s tear test, half the time is already taken.

Several components exist to a thorough ocular examination, with some better than others at identifying certain conditions or highlighting certain anatomical regions of the eye.

One important thing I took away was you can still achieve a good examination with limited equipment – in our case, we found a broken otoscope the ideal instrument for distant direct ophthalmoscopy.

Guide Dogs patient

So it came to one of the final patients on our final day – a bubbly golden retriever about to begin formal training to become a guide dog. By this point, we thought we could accurately identify basic conditions, but didn’t want to believe what we found on his lenses. When asked for the diagnosis, I hesitantly answered “cataracts” for two reasons:
1. The cataracts themselves looked different to others we’d seen – they had a triangular shape with a clear area in the centre, making them not entirely opaque.
2. This young dog’s career as a guide dog would come to an abrupt end with this diagnosis.
However, a breed predilection exists for hereditary cataracts in retrievers and the Guide Dogs staff member who was accompanying the puppy walker – the person who fosters a puppy before they enter formal training – was not shocked by the news, having experienced the condition several times previously.

While the dog still had fairly good vision at the minute, it would have to be withdrawn from training.

Several options exist for guide dogs withdrawn for health or behavioural reasons – they can be put into another work sector, such as the police or other assistance dog programmes like buddies for disabled children. Otherwise, they are rehomed as pets – hopefully our golden friend will find a new family shortly.

Having looked into the Guide Dogs scheme a bit more, it’s astonishing how much work and money goes into the training and upkeep of a guide dog.

They are a fantastic aid to people with impaired or no vision and, while it was disheartening to see a dog that wouldn’t tick the health boxes for continued training, I could appreciate the vet’s role in the process.

Eyes may always be a tricky area of veterinary medicine, but I don’t think I’ll miss a triangular cataract from now on.
December 6, 2016
Musings on a month in Morocco

Obviously I’m biased, but I think the University of Glasgow offers the best selective rotation options of the vet schools in the UK. Numerous opportunities exist to go abroad, with a variety of options based on species or type of practice.

Jordan spent a month working with American Fondouk.

The traveller in me was never going to pass up an opportunity to take to the skies, so halfway through my final year (eek) I found myself with five classmates on a plane to Morocco.

Language barrier

American Fondouk is a charity clinic for the working equids of Fes. Every morning the gates open at 8am and a stream of mules, donkeys and horses wander in with various ailments.

My French is minimal and Arabic non-existent, so history taking usually involved the owner pointing at the affected body part and translation with the help of a multilingual staff member. Even so, the histories were usually little more than “he fell over” or “it’s been like this for a week”.

Clinical exams were also not without challenges. For a start, it’s important to note donkey “normals” are different to those of horses (at first, we thought everything was hypothermic), and mules kick – in every direction.

Normal’s not normal

“It’s been like this for a week…”

Treatment of outpatients could vary from ivermectin and a dental to admission and intensive care for critical cases. It was just a case of dealing with whatever walked through that door.

Certain normal parameters for horses are different in Morocco than in the UK and for a while I couldn’t understand why so much fuss existed about PCVs of 40% – it turns out the Moroccan normal range for PCV is much lower than I was used to.

A full hospital with multiple high-maintenance inpatients certainly kept us on our toes for the month. However, after a couple of weeks, we’d gotten used to a lack of sleep, the protocols for treating certain conditions and the general craziness our daily lives had become.

I felt competent with a number of practical skills I’d never tried before I came to the clinic and could diagnose a tetanus case before it was even off the box. Wound care and bandaging were daily requirements – it was astonishing to see how well some seemingly horrific wounds would heal and the animals recover.

Ethical dilemmas

Acting in the interests of the animal without its owner’s permission is not allowed in Morocco.

The hardest thing I found about working at the clinic were the ethics surrounding euthanasia.

To the owners, these animals are often their only source of income – their livelihood – and the economics of replacing a mule are heartbreaking. Emotions run high when a seriously sick mule with a heart rate through the roof, suspected of a surgical colic, desperately in need of the pink juice would leave the owner with nothing.

The other logistical obstacle is the legal status of these animals. In Morocco, these animals are considered property of the owner and as such, permission must be gained before euthanising an animal.

Acting in the interests of the animal without permission is not allowed, so if an owner is not contactable, some unavoidable suffering may occur. This is limited as much as possible through pain relief, despite knowing what ultimately needs to happen in the interests of the animal.

Outside the box

On the whole, we were able to do our best for our patients and provide the optimum care.

I had a great, albeit exhausting, month. Working in a busy environment with somewhat limited resources pushes you to think outside the box and embrace different approaches to problems.

I learned a lot, gained confidence and even managed to discharge a patient in stilted Arabic by the end.

November 17, 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