You Can't Help Them All

Be kind. 
Be compassionate. 
Be full of grace. 
Give as much as they ask for. More if you can.
...and,,,
Let there always be hope.

Let there always be hope.

I wrote this on my way to work as a fleeting reminder. My daily affirmation masked as inspiration.

Driving to the clinic knowing I am already overbooked, and will be understaffed due to this, I needed a little self proclaimed pep talk. I knew I had 5 patients waiting for me for their surgeries. Five beloved companions who were left by their families, families who would worry all day, and 5 pets reliant on me to get safely onto, and, off of,  the surgery table and be better off for it. I go to this head space every morning, every transit to work, every-single day to affirm and re-affirm the focus. I cement the purpose internally. I reiterate to myself that imposter syndrome is real, and 20 years of practice probably has earned me the right to admonish it. Perhaps after another 20 I can boast this as abolished, but not today. After the surgeries are done I will have to face the onslaught of same day fit in requests to be seen for every ailment and emergency imaginable. I am Atlas, at least I feel as if I am her, as I drive to the asylum. I love what I do, the purpose that I possess, but the days are insane chaos. They run into each other. A bleeding ombre of one-into-the-next until I have to take pause to remember which day it is. I have done this to myself, albeit driven by the best of intentions. 

Yesterday I euthanized two cats a wall apart who were double booked within the same appointment time. It had been an oversight perpetuated by desperate pleas from the clients to be seen as soon as we could. A request that takes precedence and makes my ability to partition empathy in a calm manner with a sympathetic ear and papal hand into their appropriate and necessary compartments impossible. I left last night feeling as if I failed both cats and their parents due the chaos that surrounded their poor timing and punctuated time table placement. On the worst of all days for these patients and their families I am now left feeling as if I fell short of my own expectations for this, the most sacred of all provisions, while searching for their names on the tip of my tongue. Hoping my respects didn't fall short of their due value.

"I have become an ER." 

It is the next prophecy that slips into my thoughts. I hadn't planned to. The staff reminded me that we needed to. Our clients made us this, not me. We are simply available, respected, and affordable. The market will build as much as it will shape what it bears,, and so my legacy as the small hometown vet is marred into a title I never sought. Another crown upon the head that wears enough hats already.

I repeat it again;

We will help. 

You have to be brave enough to ask, generous to give back, and put your pet first. Just like we are going to do.

We get a phone call a day, (maybe 10 more), where someone from elsewhere is in need of immediate assistance. We take every call. We carry the burden of every plight. It affects us. We willingly listen and feel compelled to help.

I am told all the time; " you cannot save them all." I refuse to listen. What is the purpose in being reminded that their are limits on compassion? On hope? On attempts at kindness? I can. I can at least try. Why can't we just start there?

What I have learned is that the next action after that spark, plea, cry of desperation is a link in a bigger picture. The piece in a lifelong, worldwide puzzle of how you fit, hope to influence, the global network of all that is possible, or may follow. I don't have to save them all, I have to be hear to help them all. almost always this small action leads the course for a cataclysmic meiosis of magic. hope, life, and passion live in these moments. they are influential, life changing, powerful beyond money, fame, and possessions. they are the nucleus of humanity. the greatest gift man is given is our ability to build reflections of our most precious moments and store them for future incentive. this is the power of medicine and our companions place within our lives. It is why i am a veterinarian whose single mission is to save them all, and ourselves as the collateral preservation to it. 

Being comfortable with the chaos is my newest challenge. Is it possible to find that place where I accept it and welcome it with open arms?

I spoke to a practice owner in Texas who told me; "we give whatever they need and ask about payment later." I have held these words as my incentive. She owns an ER. Who in this day does that? How can I be so kind and let her words carry me for the next 2 decades?

I will try to be brave. I will try. I can do that again, today.