Who do you bet on? The horse or the rider?

 

Do you wager on the horse? Or, the rider?

What if the horse is the medical staff, and, the rider is the patient? Who then?

Let’s say the medical staff is Johns Hopkins. One of the most influential, advanced, respected medical entities in the world. Or, what if the medical staff is a single veterinarian, who has a solo practice and is expected to wear every hat you would find at Hopkins.

Let’s play our scenario out even further. What if the patient was my mom? Diagnosed with end stage breast cancer, and, quickly thereafter told it was in every bone in her delicate barely identifiable out of pubescent body. What if this diagnosis with its formidable prognosis finds her when she has never faced a challenge of personal merit defining obstacle in her life? My mom was always the easy way out option elector. Too much sweat, effort or scrutiny and she would immediately decline. Politely wasn’t even considered. She was adamant about easy living. She died less than 6 months after being diagnosed without a wrinkle to weather her face.

Then there is Havah. She is my dearest friend. The person who has been my most consistent bestie for over three decades. She was given the same diagnosis, same prognosis, similar disastrous landing of a cancer too invasive to shell out, this time her brain, spinal cord, and meninges, and yet, she has faced every toxic infusion of chemotherapy, every radiation eradication, and every step as a short jaunt to a recovery via hope-based endeavor. She has never wavered on her mantra to recover. To survive this regardless of how insidious it had grown. Not one modicum of doubt has entered her process. She is the rider on a life saving journey to the other side of terminal. She is the fearless mercenary who keeps charging on to a disease that has no eluding.

Both of these; my dearest, closest, most cherished souls are in the same fight. Both have unparalleled medical teams, and yet, my mom lived 5 months, Havah, well, it's been over three years. It was the rider who made all the difference in the race.

Why is this relevant? For me the doctor of animals, the rider is never the question. Every animal fights to survive with their chin up as they press on, with no time for self-pity or reflection. They face each moment focused on little else. Amputate their leg riddled with cancer and they walk on three with little instruction within a day. Animals fate is determined primarily in the medical access they are provided. Nothing else influences a pets prognosis more impactfully than the pet parents decision making process. It is where I find the most difficulty in being a doctor whose single goal is hope based care. Electing to “do nothing,” “let nature take its course,” “end suffering at the onset of a medical challenge,” has always implied giving up without attempting to palliate. It is a tough, bitter, jagged pill to force down. Especially in light of knowing how well most of these patients will do with even the minimal cost of effective pain management.

And then I ask myself if my personal opinion, my belief that medicine has all the answers? Is too biased? Maybe the quality of my mom’s short life was better than the medical maze of the labyrinth that the human system fills its unprecedented greedy coffers with? Maybe content and "comfortable" at home is just as hopeful as fighting with every cell you have? Maybe faith is based on fueling liberty and independence to heed your own cause and not my biased based case-based experience?

As I try to dissect, categorize, and compartmentalize the losses that I am reeling within I am finding that I cannot help find the answers to the personal choices made around me, only the ones I have to face for my personal healthcare decisions and those of the animals I am responsible for. I don’t have answers based on fortune telling crystal balls. I simply have gnawing for loss I cannot resolve without understanding the influence it has had on my own personal beliefs. I still grapple with the “quality versus quantity” of life arguments that is soo prevalent in my profession. I still take a quiet humble step back when my clients ask for my opinion as to which path they should endeavor upon. The all out fight for every best chance at life and possible recovery which almost always includes a life altering schedule of specialists, treatments, and tens of thousands of dollars, often to buy a few more weeks or months. Or, the go home stay eating, comfortable and as stress free as possible and let fate decide for you.

Even as a veterinarian my choices have spanned all aspects of the decision making spectrum. I still don’t know if I made the right choices, or even if hindsight has helped me evolve into a more accepting parent for their lives. I fought so hard for Jekyll, Savannah, Ambrose, and yet, I peacefully let D.C. Belle, the pigs go. I hope that knowing them, the individuals they are, helped me in those choices. If so, how well do I know myself? I wonder if the inner turmoil is focused there? Coming to terms with our own mortality. It was the one over looked, too painful to ponder place for Havah and my mom. They were so afraid to die. So unprepared to pass on, afraid for the loss and the unknown, and yet it has been so heavy to unravel it stole the last pieces of life worth feeling.

Maybe my lesson to learn lives here. That my decision is mine alone. Maybe theirs was theirs to live, die, learn, accept? And maybe the answer is fluid, influenced, nuanced, and never truly defined or settled?

I think that is what I need to live through. I say to others almost daily, “I deal with death every day. The loss of a life that mattered. Was hugely influential and deeply sorrowful to prepare for, live through and move beyond. How can I see my life so differently than theirs? I don’t feel as if I do. I don’t wear, consume, or associate with the cruelty in animals sacrificing for my life, how can I elevate myself, my death over theirs? We are all equal. Missing me is as earth shattering as them. We all go someday. The goal is to live now, and accept that when it comes to call for you. For me this will be after the folks at Hopkins tell me it’s a game I’ve already lost. Accepting that with gratitude for all that I leave behind is the key. Its all a gift up unto then. After it’s the price for the ride.

Related blogs;

Jekyll's story; 

Grieving the Loss of Your Pet.

The Aftermath of Losing Jekyll.

My Beloved Jekyll-Pup

The Turmoil of Contemplating How Long To Fight For Your Pups Life.

The Agony Of Being The Patient. How the Vet Mom Faces The Reality of Being The Vet Client.

Here is a story on my mom's journey;

My Mom's Story; Dying In The Pandemic.

For more on us, our journey, and this life we lead please follow us here;

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Jarrettsville Vet Facebook page, the most amazing, fact-filled, pet driven place on the planet. Meet our clients, patients, staff and learn about what we do and who we are. (Mostly we share adorable pet photos and pet related current events). We are passionate pet people!

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Pawbly.com is the place I built to provide personalized answers to pet questions and the sharing of information to educate, inform and enrich pet peoples lives. You can find me there, and its FREE!

YouTube channel videos offer case based stories and always include tips, tricks, and expected costs of care.

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.

For more information on anything and everything pet related please ask us for free at Pawbly.com.

For more information on Jarrettsville Veterinary Center please visit our Facebook page, or website; JarrettsvilleVet.com

I am also posting lots of informative videos at my YouTube channel here.

The veterinarians life in the grips of the pandemic of COVID-19.

 The veterinary plague in the pandemic.

That's exactly how I have felt for the last 5 (plus) months.

These are unprecedented times. No one can argue that. It is a time none of us have ever seen. The layers and the ripple effects are worldwide and life changing. None of us could have guessed all of the layers of impact it would have upon us all.

When the whispers of a blazingly fast deadly virulent disease began in the late Winter of 2019 the science lover within me was steeped with curiosity. Infectious disease, population dynamics and the decisions that arise from these are the fodder we live everyday in veterinary medicine, and, to a much greater extent than human medicine gets to participate in. Over in vet med we deal with death from poor vaccine management, viruses, and transmission from multi-species hosts daily. Think about parvovirus for a moment. For every sick puppy I see I have to pine over poor, if not often absent, vaccine records, question interactions, clinical signs and scant hard to accurately elucidate human observations. I also know I have to test sooner versus later to get our best chance of survival as care needs to be aggressive and early for the best prognosis. I see upwards of 2-5 puppies a day in our current pandemic case load. In one day I saw 10. For every sick puppy I start with parvo and hope for anything else. Want to make the scenario even more bleak? Add lack of emotional bonding (new after all implies, haven't bonded with yet), and, almost unmanageable costs (average estimate for care, and btw should be at the 24/7 ER, about $3-6,000 USD) which almost no one can afford. 

Rabies is the other viral monster with even more devastating reaches. There are still multiple patients walking in every day who have never (I saw a 10 year old with this presentation) been to a vet before. Or, have only been for sick visits, and, hence were never been fully vaccinated. Pouring over sketchy, to non-existent, medical records takes time I never have at hand. How can this be more devastating than parvo? Rabies kills humans. People can, and do, get rabies from cats and dogs. With every case I have to make sure I am protecting the public by monitoring for rabies.

The case load for my 7 day a week, five doctor practice has been steadily increasing over the last decade. Growing on trend with the industry standards. We have our typical seasonal quiet season, February through March, and, our busiest time of year May through October, with one little blip in business at Thanksgiving to Christmas. With the pandemic getting more news attention, the growing number of cases spreading through Europe and mounting pressure to begin government mandates to promote slowing the spread, we faced March with huge uncertainty trailing fear for both our own lives and the viability of our business. 

When it became increasingly obvious that the virus had reached our shores and invaded our inhabitants I knew we had to do some hard talking and face some quick decisions. We had to face yet another outbreak in our clinic, except this time the victims might be us.

The first action I took at the clinic took was to ask each employee privately what they felt comfortable with? Who wanted to shelter in place, versus continue to work. Self isolating was being instituted in adjacent states and we knew we were not far behind. Each employee was given a letter to state our dedication to them in supporting their decision with whatever choices they made. If they chose to stay home we would promise to hold their positions. We would assist in unemployment benefits or exhaust benefit packages for as long as possible.While other veterinary clinics around us mandated employees remain working, I was not going to take worst case scenarios and force anyone to do anything. If that meant that I was going to be running the clinic alone, with my husband as the only receptionist and technician available, I was going to do it. If I had to open 24/7 and live there I was prepared to. 

I was preparing myself for worst case scenario. This is the typical approach to everything in medicine. Personal and professional life are one in the same. I was preparing myself to stay at the clinic for endless hours melting into endless days. Man the caseload alone, or, enlist the help of my family, and work 24/7 to keep both the lights on, i.e. keep the business alive, and, keep the patients of my community cared for. If other vet clinics closed I was determined to not lose a patients life due to inaccessibility. Summoning the troops to see who was with me was where I started. Much to my surprise most of the staff wanted to stay working. The reasons varied from employment security, maintaining an income, age based health security (not that this came from my personal disease preference viewpoint), to boredom associated isolation avoidance. Personally I felt I had an ethical obligation to the pets JVC had taken care of for decades that have almost accumulated into a centennial. "This ship wasn't going down on my watch," once again rang in my head.

As the commotion of human hospitals reaching maximum capacities almost overnight in our surrounding states ballooned the realities of our potential doom motivated action. Within a few weeks of the diseases arrival half way around the world the state governor ordered a very quick mandate to self isolate. A list of "essential businesses" was circulated and our importance to world health became endorsed. Veterinarians were expected to stay open. How we were to do this safely was open to scantly provided guidelines and interpretation. 

The world around us slowed to a snails pace of cleared roads, hysteria based grocery shopping (none of us will ever look at toilet paper the same will we?), and, solitude like we have never seen outside of a few days of a previous weather catastrophe. The news was buzzing with charts, graphs, daily tallies and "curve flattening" chants. Masks became a commodity I felt oddly out of place wearing in public. My work life of disposable clothing, replaceable and disposable was now the new normal. Coming and going to work included placards for the car announcing my place of importance in the pandemic saturated society. Working was a risk we were all volunteering for. Would there even be a reason to show up? Would there even be clients brave enough to go out into the infected world around them to get their pets care? We didn't know how bad this would be, or, how bad it would get, never mind the collateral damage we would invite ourselves into. What if I went to work and brought the virus home unknowingly? I had a very sick mom to care for. A husband who fit the age based "high-risk" classification. Me, well, I was comfortable with steam cleaning clothes I changed out of at the office. I was fine breathing in a mask, wearing gloves to work, and washing my hands like death was colonizing with complacency. Me, well, I was ok with me facing a ventilator, but being the fomite who brought it to others, nope, no blood on these hands please.

What happened was a 20% decrease year over year for the first month, March. Then a steady April. Business was running its (almost) normal course and people went to and from 2 week quarantines if they felt sick, or were told to do so by their physician as the tests took weeks to process. Temperature monitoring, letters of CDC guidance on what to look for, when to play it safe and stay home, and the myriad of vague clinical signs to alert oneself to possible COVID exposure/illness were circulated, signed and kept on file. 

There were weeks of one, two, and, even three staff members being out for quarantine at a time. Managing the staffing schedule was a best attempt daily. The teams further isolated us, and magnified the difficulties of scheduling appropriately for the days case loads. We didn't know if we would be able to manage with either our own staff being too short to function, or, the clients being too cautious to take their not-going-to-wait-for-the-pandemic to abate pets. Would we lose a whole generation of puppies to distemper (which we have never seen before because our clients are too sensible and savvy) to have been susceptible too? Would we see a huge influx of rabies cases as people avoided vaccinating? What about pregnancies when spays and neuters (aka "elective surgeries") were ordered to be postponed to save valuable short supply medical equipment for the front line workers? SO many questions and no guidebook to assist in assuaging the fears. Would those staff members who were out at home come back to us as "positives" and throw the whole rest of the apple cart into hysteria? Would I lose people I cared about and feel responsible for that for the rest of my days? When I asked myself the really hard questions I couldn't come to terms with the idea I might be swapping one life for another. Was my efforts to save my four-legged patients going to cost me any of my two-legged colleagues? Was it a trade off I could ever justify? Deep down I strongly considered closing the clinic. Shuttering the windows and leaving a "gone fishing" sing without a due back date. I would prefer belly-up versus 6 ft under.

I just got up everyday and went in. I left my husband at home with the animals. He was telecommuting and able to take over their care regardless of what my day might bring.

What happened was totally unexpected. Business exploded. It blossomed and burgeoned on record breaking. People fostered, adopted, paid attention in much greater detail and scrutiny to their pets and we struggled to meet the demand. We, for the first time ever, had to turn new clients needing emergency care away. It hurt me bitterly to do so. We received pleas form the local ER to help. They routinely had 4-24 hours wait times. I went into work exhausted and unable to catch up. I left the house at 8 am, arrived after 9 pm and the time in between was case after case of sick, dying, intensely managed patients. While the rest of the staff saw the routine vaccine appointments I saw the immediate need walk-ins. It was grueling and mentally so taxing I fell into bed every night wondering how I would manage the same day tomorrow. I started to fall apart physically, emotionally and internally. I understood why everyone else defaulted to their protective limitations, and, I wondered if I would get out of this wanting to be who I thought I was. Sleep became a fleeting precious and unreliable commodity.

The other side of the pandemic sword was anger. The quarantine brought out the best, and, the worst in us. We had to call the police to have people forcibly removed from the premises. We had to use strong language. Make ultimatums and have the courage to lose clients for them. We drew hard lines with harsh stern mandates behind them. We split the staff into teams with the hope that if illness ran through one team like wild fire the other would be safe. I did everything I could to minimize the villains reach, potentially deadly grip and keep the people I care about most safe and feeling secure at work. It was harder than I had imagined it would be, washing, cleaning and sanitizing after each day. Seeing one team lose more members than it could function without to stay at home orders. We were tired, worried and facing unknown client aggression every minute of every day.

We applied for loans we didn't know if we could meet, or get, or payback? The unknowns mounted to stress at unparalleled and nauseating levels. I remember telling myself everyday that I just had to breathe, go into work to try to help people and the pets I was so devoted to taking care of, and I had to tell myself that "this too will pass" as everything else behind me had. I had to remind myself that I know what disease looks like. It isn't personal, it isn't fully fatal, and there was a myopic meets universally pellucid lens that made it all relatable, comprehensible, and even purposeful. We have to remember we are a part of a whole. A tiny piece if a planet that is complex, self-regulating and unforgiving in its counterbalancing efforts. we are mortal. You get one life, one chance and you better be analyzing your place, your value and your compromises along the journey.

It is September. 2020 has cost me dearly. I lost my mom to cancer that COVID crippled, arrested and tortured her within. We had so few options for a deadly cancer that swept faster than most of the cancers I have dueled with. Cancer has plays. Definite steps it takes. Obvious signs it flags, and yet hers was just as swift, devastating and immobilizing as any I have ever witnessed. I have seen thousands of pets get, battle with, and eventually die from their neoplasia, but, my mom died and suffered more severely than any patient I was ever charged with. She suffered. Nothing should ever suffer to the extent she did. Medicine has better to pardon such pain. So many of us lost to this pandemic. Time, loved ones, events, experiences, vanished to trying to stay alive. There is still no normal to our newest evolution to the current pandemics plight. We are still not allowing clients into the hospital. Still providing mask enforced curbside service, and, I am still turning away non-clients so I can meet the fact that we are booked weeks in advance, while we receive requests for immediate care from our current the clients with their same day emergency requests. I have worked to the point of physically debilitating exhaustion, and then worked through that. It has been challenging and for someone who thrives on adrenaline based medicine I can say I cannot keep this up. I have to turn away people who I know need us because doing so will cost us a mistake we cannot forgive ourselves if we make. And yet through the worst of my veterinary journey I have been reminded that hope springs eternal. That little lives were saved, protected and spared because we showed up and did our best. Friends brought posters, cakes, wrote letters, and reminded us that we mattered. We made a difference, and we were appreciated. There were layers of kindness that were returned in waves more powerful than a disease can encroach upon. There are people whom I saw give the most incredible acts of compassion. Spread love and hope with generosity, kindness and for which I will never forget and never stop repaying.

So far I have lived to tell the story. We have all done such amazing things through the most troubling time of our collective lives. We have no end date, but, we do have the confidence of knowing what perseverance feels like and it's as good a guide as we will ever need.

I have learned that the foundation I am most assured of is that life is precious, short and fleeting, and at the same time it is invaluable and magnificently beautiful. I wouldn't trade one for the other. You cannot have one without the other. I also know that the more I give the more that comes back. It has to be genuine, but it is always enough to get through the worst of days.

Thank you to the clients who share their stories, photos, and lives with us. The photos above have no relation to the events or cases. They are snapshots of the days through this story. The loves that mold us, touch us and shape our views on crisis. They are reflections of what we can be if we chose to see value in sharing.

 For more information on anything and everything pet related please ask us for free at Pawbly.com.

If you are a pet care provider who is willing to help pets in need with your advice and compassionate words of kindness please consider joining us and adding your pet care experiences and thoughts at Pawbly.com. We are always in need of reputable professionals who can educate and inspire.

For more information on Jarrettsville Veterinary Center please visit our Facebook page, or website; JarrettsvilleVet.com

I am also posting lots of informative videos at my YouTube channel here.