“What am I doing all this for?” I was still a young professional when I asked myself this question for the first time. At the time, I was earning little and working a lot and was tired and overworked when a cat owner yelled at me because I hadn’t been able to save her cat – even though I had given it my all and she knew it. I rarely cry, but tears of anger and disbelief came to my eyes. My studies had not prepared me for situations like this.
Being a veterinarian is demanding and intense, also emotionally: not only because of the many injured or sick animals, but also because of the people who bring their feelings into the treatment room. Most are friendly and love their animals, but one in ten will verbally lash out at you or behave towards their animal in a way that is difficult to tolerate.
I am now a partner in a small animal clinic. We treat around 200 animals per day, including inpatient and emergency services. The irresponsibility and callousness of some people often dismays me. Anesthesia? My animal doesn’t need it. Euthanize? I’m a hunter, I’ll take care of it myself. I hear sentences like that.
Animals mean responsibility – also financially
I remember a man who brought me his cat with a broken leg. The cat was young and healthy and the fracture was easy to treat. But it was too expensive for him. He would rather have her put down because: “It’s just a cat.” He explained that he would of course have his dog operated on, but not the cat. And he said it in a tone like he was throwing out old car tires. When I refused, he got angry. We were talking about a living thing, but he didn’t give a shit.
It has to get into people’s minds that you have responsibility for an animal. Also financially. I’m not concerned with those who have little money, but with those who don’t attach any value to an animal. I experience this often, especially in emergency services: many seriously ill animals are brought in, often much too late. I sometimes have to euthanize three animals within four hours, which is stressful enough. And then I get insulted because treatment is more expensive than during normal consultation hours.
The cold of some people is difficult to bear
I also find this derogatory to my work. I always ask myself: Did they ever call in a plumber at the weekend? Or a locksmith? Why do I have to justify myself? Why is this even being made into my problem? I want to take care of the animal, not the money. It must be clear to everyone that I cannot examine, operate, do X-rays or ultrasounds for free.
Sometimes I doubt common sense. Or to us as a society. For example with defective breeding. I see bulldogs with shortened noses and deformed spines that struggle to breathe throughout their lives. Or Teacup–Chihuahuas – They are called that because they are supposed to fit in a teacup –whose tiny bodies can barely hold their oversized heads. And then the owner sits with me in the practice and expects me to heal the animal. To explain that it doesn’t work and why? Difficult to hopeless. Don’t believe it. For some people, one animal dies and they immediately buy the next one with the same symptoms. That hurts my soul. Just like when someone brings their seriously ill pet and leaves it to die alone, not even saying goodbye.
Experiencing the coldness of some people is like a heavy blanket that falls on me and that I have to throw off again, otherwise I would no longer be able to do my work. On the way home – an hour’s drive – I sometimes turn off my phone and try to imagine what moved people. I can’t fathom them, but since I’ve completed mental health first aid training, I’ve been able to better understand that, for example, some people show anger rather than sadness, or others work through facts and figures.
The birth of my daughter three years ago changed my attitude radically; I no longer want to work ten or twelve hours at a time. I give my limited time to people who appreciate it. I will respectfully but clearly point out anyone who behaves in a cross-border manner. The animal receives emergency care and then that person has to find another veterinarian. The demand is so great that I can choose my customers.
I don’t want to be anything else
In the past, I would have called a pet owner to make sure they were dosing a medication correctly. I fought for every single animal and was totally committed. When someone told me that he had stopped taking the tablets for his dog with a heart condition because it was all chemistry, I explained to him again and again why the tablets were really important. Today I no longer try to convert. I explain, I document and I name the consequences. Everything else is up to the owner.
In the 14 years that I have been working in my job, the pay and working conditions have improved, as has the awareness of the stress. The numbers for the telephone counseling service and for Vethilfe, a contact point specifically for people in the veterinary profession, are posted everywhere in our staff toilets. Last year, as a clinic, we offered our employees the opportunity to speak to a coach and we also cover the costs of psychological first aid.
“What am I doing all this for?” I still ask myself this question sometimes when I say goodbye to my little daughter for a weekend shift, when I get insulted when I see animals that haven’t been properly cared for. But I can’t and don’t want to do anything other than be a veterinarian, I won’t let anyone take that away from me, that’s what I’m fighting for.
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