At Ready, Vet, Go Veterinary Mentorship, we’re known for our joy, enthusiasm, and passion for vet med, but in reality, sometimes things suck.

Sometimes people suck.

And no manner of sunshine and rainbows and positive thinking can free us from the pain and grief created by this absolute suckiness.

While I am still proud to champion joy and positivity in veterinary medicine, recent events in my own life showed me that failing to talk about tough times would be a disservice to our mentees. Indeed, bringing the raw inexplicable ugliness into the light can provide paradoxical healing. Sometimes, acknowledging the worst creates space for us to be our best.

Hello, heartbreak

On a recent ordinary day, I lost one of my personal dogs. Her passing was sudden, unexpected, and incredibly traumatic. While I don’t think she was in pain, the pet sitter who was with her at the time and I, unable to be there for either of them because I was at work, were left with deep and heavy grief.

Yum Yum passed away around 6:30 p.m. that night. I felt helpless, frustrated, and overwhelmed. And yet, despite it all, I had one last appointment to see.

Insult to injury

 

My 7 o’clock appointment arrived on time and although I’d pulled myself together, I was in no shape for a face-to-face visit. I asked the technician to inform the client that I’d been dealing with a family emergency and would need to see her pet in the treatment room. There would be no direct interaction. The pet owner—a loyal client of the clinic for many years—agreed and all was well.

Or so I thought. When I emailed the client to inform her of her pet’s normal blood work results, she responded with a complaint to my practice manager, expressing frustration that I hadn’t communicated with her directly during the appointment. After learning the specifics of my emergency, her feelings were unchanged. She stated that if I couldn’t handle it, I should’ve gone home.

Aftermath

I won’t lie, her response was jarring—especially in my vulnerable state. Fortunately, this kind of event is rare. Most of my clients are understanding, appreciative, and know that I’ll do everything I can for their pets and my own. Once I’d pulled the proverbial dagger out of my heart, I wish I could say I recognized that her actions were valid and motivated by worry over her own pet, but in this case, I couldn’t. In this case, I resolved that sometimes, people simply act in mean or unfair ways.

Acceptance: How embracing the suck can help us move forward

Accepting the client’s behavior at face value wasn’t natural for this eternal optimist, but it was healthy and productive. Acknowledging that bad, wrong, and unfair things happen and seeing those events exactly as they are (i.e., without rose-colored glasses) can be a powerful step toward healing and greater resilience. Accepting the inevitability of bad client—or colleague—behavior and traumatic events such as patient losses, catastrophic errors, and hurtful interpersonal conflict can help us let go of energy-depleting emotions such as resentment, guilt, and anger. It can free that headspace for something better, healthier, and more beneficial for ourselves and our patients: gratitude.

A simple thank you

Gratitude is typically an intentional practice, at least in the beginning, but this time, it found me. Shortly after losing Yum Yum and the angry client, I received a voicemail from a name I didn’t recognize. The caller identified herself as a past client whose dog I’d euthanized. She explained that she’d always planned to see me again with her next pet, but time had passed and she was moving away. She was calling simply to thank me for the kindness I’d shown her and her dog—all those years later—with no idea how badly I’d needed to hear such a message.

Gratitude: The gift that keeps giving

Both the angry client and the appreciative one brought me to a place of gratitude. Accepting the upset owner’s emotional reaction as simply that, a reaction, helped me appreciate how many of my awesome, understanding clients would have accommodated my grief. It served as a reminder that we’re all human. Faulty. Imperfect. A little selfish. The appreciative client made me grateful for her thoughtfulness. Her personal story of heartbreak-turned-gratitude was a reminder of how our smallest actions as veterinarians, performed with great care and empathy, can have a lasting impact. It reminded me that those moments connect us, strengthen us, and make the tough times feel a little less lonely.

In the difficulty of hard times, gratitude can act like a light—pushing through the shadows to reveal hidden beauty in the dark.

Riding the waves: Healthy ways to cope and overcome

In the veterinary field, tough times are inevitable. Patients will die. Clients will blame. Colleagues will question our abilities, choices, or competency. We’ll make the right choices at the wrong time, and learn we’ve made the wrong ones when there’s nothing we can do to change them. After the initial waves of reactionary emotion, reflecting on these moments and accepting them is the only way forward. Here are some healthy strategies for working through these times and finding opportunities for gratitude.

  • Talk it outTurn to your peers, family, professional counselors or therapists, or a support group to help you process your emotions, find comfort and understanding, and gain perspective.
  • Make a list -Write down the large and small things that make you grateful in your personal and professional life. Track your wins. Reflect on challenges and ask yourself how you can turn their memory into one of gratitude.
  • Promote psychological safety – My practice manager created a psychologically safe environment for me by supporting my decision to stay in the treatment area and addressing the client’s frustration with the truth. Create a similar atmosphere in your practice by being a supportive, nonjudgmental ear for your peers.
  • Share your story – Turn bad into good by using personal experiences to connect with clients and help them feel seen, supported, and understood. Shortly after Yum Yum’s passing, I told her story to a grieving pet owner—not to diminish her grief but to share in it. The client appreciated this commonality and found comfort in knowing she wasn’t alone.

Sometimes things—and people—suck, but most of the time they don’t. When they do, accepting reality for what it is, not what we wish it was, can help us be resilient against its lasting effects, including professional burnout. In its wake, the things we value are brought to light, leaving us with newfound gratitude and fresh opportunities to remember our passion for pets, people, and this incredibly challenging yet deeply rewarding profession.

Ready, Vet, Go Veterinary Mentorship is an innovative online program and community that helps new and early career veterinarians build confidence, gain independence, and experience greater joy. Visit our FAQ page to learn more about what we offer or get in touch with our team.

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