Every vet has a worst day story: Reflections on mental health & “The Dog”

Mental health, particularly for men, has historically been stigmatized and not talked about nearly enough. We still have a long way to go, but it is getting better. This change is especially vital in the veterinary community because of the high stress and emotional turmoil experienced by so many doctors.

It’s hard for people outside of the vet industry to understand the dark side of our work. Most think we are playing with puppies and kittens all day, every day. The hard truth is that for every happy pet visit there is an equally sad visit that often lingers well beyond the appointment.

I recently saw a new short film, The Dog, that is centered on this topic during a company-wide meeting. It’s about a veterinarian experiencing a mental health crisis in her clinic on a regular day in vet med. The film made an impact on me and resurfaced emotions from my worst day on the job.

That evening, after first seeing The Dog, I shared my thoughts on the film with my wife. I told her that Kate Walsh starred as the veterinarian, that it was quite poignant, and that it did a great job of showcasing the important issue of mental health struggles in veterinarians. My first reaction was mostly focused on the quality of the film: it was incredibly well produced, had great sound, and certainly was an authentic and compelling story. It wasn’t until the next time I saw the film, and really focused on listening closely to it, that I had a much stronger reaction.

A few days later, I was doing lawn work preparing for our baby shower while simultaneously listening to the film again in my ear buds. Hearing the dialogue and all the accompanying background sounds (or in some cases lack thereof), I was taken back to a time in which I, too, struggled with the mental toll this profession can take on a veterinarian. I have to add a trigger warning here regarding animal abuse, death of a patient, and suicidal thoughts. I will spare most of the details for those reasons.

The shift I’ll never forget (no matter how hard I try)

I was only a couple years into my veterinary career when I walked into clinic after lunch and was presented with a young female French bulldog (we will call her Rosie) who was coughing. The history wasn’t very clear at that time, but she was stable.  As this breed tends to be susceptible to episodes of respiratory distress associated with minimal stress, I chose to have her monitored in an oxygen cage while I gathered more information. My mentor at the time was in between surgeries but was standing point in the treatment area while I went to speak with the owner.

As I approached Rosie’s owner, an older gentleman, I quickly came to learn that this sweet little dog had been drowned in a washing machine. The incident happened unbeknownst to him when a child was with Rosie unattended in the laundry room. The man explained to me with tears in his eyes that it was his wife’s dog, who she loved dearly, and to do whatever I could to save her. I told him I would need to do some X-rays to get a better idea of how to move forward, but with this information, I knew Rosie’s chances were slim.

Over the next half hour, which felt like an eternity, I had to call animal welfare services as I feared that this case needed investigating. Even though I knew how terribly sorry the man was, I felt we had a duty to investigate. The officer agreed.  Shortly after that conversation, Rosie began to crash. I’ll spare the difficult details, but she had no chance of living. I stood there, numb and feeling Rosie’s fear, the owner’s pain, and the horrified looks of my technicians. Rosie was scared and so was I. I couldn’t say a word as I euthanized Rosie, then moved on to the rest of my cases for the day.

Taking the pain with me everywhere

After this happened, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rosie. I remembered the owner’s face and most painfully, Rosie’s face. I saw it when I woke up, I saw it when I went to sleep, when I went on walks with my dogs, on dates with my wife. I took the pain of this experience with me everywhere I went, all the time. I had no idea how to get it to stop. I remember one day, maybe a month later, walking down the stairs and my wife asking me if I was okay. I’m honestly not even sure how that conversation started but I told her that I wasn’t.

Thankfully, over time, these feelings went away. I knew I needed support, and I reached out to my mentor, my family, and my wife – another veterinarian – who all helped me through it. In a way I have grown grateful for this experience – I was the reason Rosie would never be afraid or in pain again. To me, that is the only way I can rationalize this. I still remember Rosie’s sweet face and I probably always will.

Empathy is a double-edged sword

The Dog brought up an intense and visceral reaction in me that speaks to how accurate the film was in how it depicted what veterinarians go through every day. Empathy is a double-edged sword. It’s a beautiful thing, but it’s also incredibly painful. When watching the film and discussing it afterward, the only thing I could think of was Rosie. I know that experiences like the one I had with Rosie are not unique, which is both comforting and concerning. Veterinarians have experiences and feelings like this all the time. This film reminded me that this is very much a shared experience, and that bringing this to light will hopefully remind many other vets that they are in fact, not alone.

See The Dog  for yourself

IndeVets recognized the importance of bringing this global issue to light, and is one of six key supporters of this film. We are honored to offer screenings of The Dog as a resource to the veterinary industry and to facilitate open discussions around mental well-being.

We will host a screening and panel discussion (including the film’s writer, producer, and director, Danielle Baynes) at Southern Veterinary Symposium in Fort Worth, Texas on September 26th. Private screenings are also being offered for members of the veterinary industry. You can learn more or sign up here or with the button below.