New Beginnings and Old Responsibilities. The Building Of My Legacy

Lately I have been hung up on this legacy thing. The idea that I haven't left enough meaningful pieces behind to have ever mattered enough for a memory. A condolence without substance. A farewell without a book of accomplishments to pass on. It's the curse of caring. Its really not a prideful thing. This late in life I don't care enough about others opinions of me to let it mold me into a more normal-vanilla being. I still fear not in posting defamatory remarks on the politicians. Broadcast my shame on others as the naysayers of climate change. Fight for a greener planet, a more compassionate place to share with all other species, my personal protest to single use plastics and my unwavering devotion to never being able to kill anything never mind consume them. I am so hard on myself it is unfulfilling. In vet med they call it imposter syndrome. I strive to live this perfect life of example within a cold place of global consumption. The veterinarian in me is no different. She has to know everything, be everything, and answer every tiny meow in the night. It is facade we put up to sound like we don't "just play one on t.v."

Getting to this place was a series over-analyzed, albeit well intentioned, steps. The plan was never set in stone. It began as a loose leafed alternative to a life I was pretty miserable in. (Note to all of my sea going and KP buddies here, I do sincerely love you and am incredibly grateful for the time we had together.. You helped shape me into the cast iron kernel of uncompromising charlatan sitting at this crossroads. P.S., no sarcasm here, promise). I was going to go to college, and I was going to go out into the world and do something meaningful. Seemed simple and honest enough.

The plan was derailed almost immediately. College, the stepping stone to adulthood, had little options that were palatable. My parents didn't have college funds prepared, and, I wasn't going to go if it was on their dime. If there wasn't a scholarship with benefits for ancillary costs it simply wasn't an option. I was expected to go to college, and, it was expected to be free. It was, it just wasn't ever my choice. Military academies work like that in some cases.

The lack of options has often led me to a search for uniqueness. I discovered I had to push through the endless hallways of the closed doors and never be discouraged from trying another avenue. In the worst places I landed, which were never the places I chose, I learned to survive. I learned to look for the long game as I was fumbled in the short haul. Sending a girl who wants to be an artist to a military school suffocates the soul of creativity. That muffled girl did her time. Time that was almost always spent alone, and almost inevitably dangerous. I never made a courageous decision, but I never walked away from being backed into a corner. I learned to silently strategize and I learned to not be afraid to fight. I could further reduce that to I learned to not be afraid.

How can a self speculating imposter not be afraid? Well, you learn to face every decision with a clearer mind and a definitive goal. That is part of what the military instills as a leadership quality. I am also grateful for that. You aren't born with that. You earn it.

Being a veterinarian is not dissimilar. You need to know how to manage people, decisions, look at a problem from all the possible angles and be prepared for your enemy to outsmart you. Not being caught off guard is as an important a survival skill as those years of medical training.

Four years of college and a degree in hand I set sail for the only thing I was trained to do, and, the one thing I thought would be the biggest challenge I could face. I went to sea. Tell me I can't do something and I will exhaust all efforts to not have to swallow the opinion of others as my own. It's not anything anyone should be proud of. It took me another decade to learn that I only had to make myself content in this lifetime. Everyone else was following that, why didn't I??

I did what I had learned at the Academy. I put the plan for the long game into action. I went back to school for what I wanted to do. (No, it wasn't art. I wasn't that brave). I went for my other passion. I was going to become my version of James Herriott, (minus smelly farmer and muck boots) who had carried me dreamily through that decade at sea. I read, re-read and lived a life of honorable purpose through his books all those many long days melt into nights abroad on an ocean. It took 6 years to get from able bodied seaman to vet school applicant. Everyone told me I was delusional. I was too old, my grades from the Academy weren't strong enough, I had a career path ahead of what others thought was "extremely lucrative and desirable" right in front of me.  No one changes their successful trajectory mid-way through. Do they?

For all of the  too numerous to mention sacrifices I had already made it seemed silly to walk away from a job that paid so well at the pinnacle of the ladder to accomplishment. But, for everyday at sea, coveralls, steel-toed boots, hard hats and solitude, what I really wanted was more broken kittens to mend.

Weasely. The tiny meow with the deformed legs.

I left a hundred grand a year for 6 months of solitary confinement work on the ocean for a chance at beginning my own story. It wasn't a leap of faith as much as a "get out alive" escape.

It took me years to get into vet school. Years of beating the odds, outlasting the competition, and, perseverance to determination leading to the acceptance of my own limitations. 

I learned that after a dozen "No's" I could more easily accept their diminishing worth. The value of excess dilutes the emotional impact. All the many "No's" allowed me to accept a challenge. After years of failing you learn to embrace the challenge as a way to reflect upon your own value. I learned to not back down from a challenge unless I thought it wasn't worth my time. That little decision took until my late 30's to recognize. It had to be my challenge to accept, not someone else's taunt to prove wrong. There was a tiny bit of growing up in the process of weeding out options.

I left shipping after 10 years with a Captains license and the promise of a new ship, a new build and a legacy of a girl with four stripes on  her shoulders leading a unique, albeit incredibly lonely, life to say adieu to. I yearned viscerally for things like the smell of fresh cut grass, the sound of my own refrigerator opening, my purring cats to sleep with at night, and some small group of friends to hold close. You just lose these little sparks of normal life when you are at sea. Where others see Hemingway tales of far away lands and secrets you can harbor in places no one else bucket lists I just felt alone, and always vulnerable,, the bad kind of vulnerable. 

Once I had tasted the top of the heap I would never accept an apprenticeship again. And so upon graduation from vet school I bought the clinic I was newly employed at. One episode of witnessing the previous owner euthanizing an 8 month old treatable puppy because the wealthy owners knew it was cheaper to replace than repair and the line in the linoleum was drawn. I wasn't working for him, or them, or anyone else who didn't care enough to try. There wasn't room for two sheriffs in this one horse town.

It was a brief, urgent leap of faith into practice ownership about 8 months after vet school graduation. Slightly insane decision for a nubile practitioner. It had to be this. There weren't any other palatable options to survive this profession I had spent a decade to fall within the ranks of.

And now 15 year later I am at the crossroads again. Twenty years left within this career and I have to decide one again how many cards I am willing to throw on the table and whether or not I believe in my hand, or ability to bluff, to see if I can come out of this alive again.

We are at the place where we are about to double the working footprint size of our vet clinic. It's time to reinvest back into my heart and soul and commit to another decade, or two, of being the sock puppet user I swagger through the hallways as. I have to recommit to another project, a long term goal, and all of the faces, souls, voices and emotionally invested beings I make this commitment to. It is not an easy undertaking to jump into. I have to do this wide eyed, willing and prepared to meet and exceed all of the needs of those I have made a promise too, and on top of them, the scores of others who will cross our threshold.

As I grow older it seems the consequence of decision, and vice versa indecision, have more magnitude. A more perceptible punishment, the times isn't as plentiful to squander and the resources have a finite time frame.  With this I also have this immense burden of feeling like I never shied away before so why start now? And, if I do start now how many more places will my feet hesitate to step? What value is there is being timid now? I have lived with nothing and flourished, abandoning my mission now is not only shying from responsibility but blunting my own vision.

I have to swallow the imposter, overcome the fearful intimidation of this price tag, the loan, the risk every small business owner assumes. I have to become the artist composing my own legacy and jump arms wide, chest thrust forward, chin up, eyes full of possibility.

To all the Kevin Costners out there with dreams as big as the ghosts who honor them, "if I build it they will come."

This is Cora. She came to us looking much sadder than this. This is her submissive plea for affection after she recovered from the parovirus her family abandoned her from. She is the subject of the Herriott stories I yearned for. She was a total financial loss, and I am immensely proud of her, and us for taking the leap of faith to try to save her. She is 8 years old today, living in Maine with my college friends, and she is alive, perfect, and the miracle that courage and dedication built.

At this place I have to jump in. I have to build this dream. If I don't it will be the fear talking. The doubt deciding, and the artist losing her belief in a vision that imagination too wing to.

For every person out there wondering what the limits are I guess I can only offer this tidbit..

• You won't know until you try, and, failing is more important than surrender.
• Your legacy is yours alone to scrutinize. Be kind, even to yourself.
• Never lose the girl you dreamt you would become. Her vision is your guide.
• As long as you have love and compassion you have all you need to thrive.

This is Dunkin. He never had one break of luck,, except us, who loved him every day of his short, completely unfair life. And yet he is one of my greatest joys. He reminds me to see the beauty in life every single day and just be grateful for it.

My pups, Storm and Fripp, This morning. They remind me to stop and enjoy the sunshine.

We are one month away from the ribbon cutting. Eight months into 2020 where so many chapters have already closed, and I stand on the precipice of a new chapter of an 80 year legacy two other Herriott's of their own right built. I am the third in line of the  place so many have called their place of healing. We have shared stories, saved lives, ended those who were suffering and all the way we have been honest, accessible, and affordable. 

When we started this new chapter I had one over arching requirement; we would never lose our place or our purpose to those we serve. JVC has been a part of this community for over 80 years. We carry a legacy forward and I am not going to allow this new chapter to cause change for those who need us and have always depended on us. 

JVC is my legacy. We are not going to build a big-bright-shiny practice that doesn't meet the same needs of all who enter. We aren't going to start excluding people to pay for the McMansion the ego armored imposter needs to feel better about our own place in others lives. Isn't that what vet med is all about? We serve others, all others who need us, not those who can afford us as we 

The all too often abusive statement that rising pet care costs are a reflection of veterinary costs is vulgar. If you couldn't afford vet school, your vet hospital, your equipment, or your ego you shouldn't pass it on to others as their complicity. Its not theirs to own. If I am not affordable because I made poor decisions my patients pay for it. That's what a legacy is and that's the way we slay our imposter syndrome.

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