Having worked at my latest practice for three months, I had something of an epiphany while in surgery.
It was a routine cat spay, which I performed entirely unaided and, while this may sound like nothing out of the ordinary to most experienced surgeons – or even other remotely confident new grads – it seemed significant to me somehow.
It wasn’t even the first cat spay I’ve done without help, nor was it a particularly easy or difficult operation as cat spays go. The difference was my attitude.
I didn’t have a sinking feeling when I saw my name against a spay on the operations list – quite the opposite, in fact. I was confident, and even had an interviewee observing and was happy explaining everything I was doing, in between chatting about non-vet topics.
I didn’t, for a moment, freeze or worry about what I was doing – even when the uterus evaded me. I cracked on while the consulting vets and other operating vet popped in and out to discuss other cases, never once putting me under pressure, but being available should I have a surgical query.
Colleague help
On my first day three months ago, I also performed a cat spay, but had one of those same vets scrubbed in, talking me through each step.
Even that wasn’t my first cat spay, but a combination of having been out of work for two months and an awful working environment in my previous job had my nerves completely shot.
Thankfully, though, my colleagues at my second practice were kind enough to recognise that and help me through it.
When I graduated, I was confident in my routine surgical skills – even up to bitch spays.
I’d been to a neutering clinic abroad, was fortunate to have an EMS practice close to home that was great at teaching and flew through first opinion surgery rotations… and yet my first job changed all of that.
I was condemned to spending 90% of my time TB testing and, on the few occasions I was assigned small animal days – and, therefore, operations – I had either no support or only negative experiences from this practice.
Sent backwards
The practice tried to over-support me to start with, but I think the hand-holding only sent me backwards. I became nervous of bitch spays because the practice had a culture where I was repeatedly put down over my surgical technique and any confidence I had in my ligatures was shattered.
From university, I had been sure of my ligatures and tissue handling, yet ended up feeling I was no good. Looking back, my ligatures were just fine.
I also ended up terrified of cat castrates, to the point I had a complete mental block and avoided them where possible. I felt incredibly foolish over this – especially as I had been shocked to hear a new grad’s tale of being scared of cat castrates previously. It’s a cat castrate, for God’s sake – the most straightforward operation possible.
But no, there I was, in exactly the same situation.
Nail in the coffin
My confidence already depleted from my infrequent opportunities to practice routine surgery and, being frazzled by the practice’s culture of being shown too many different ways of doing things, I was on the edge of meltdown when I found myself in sole charge one morning.
Someone called in sick, and I was faced with a bitch spay and possible exploratory laparotomy.
As I stood panicking, on the verge of sending the bitch spay home, a receptionist came to the rescue and managed to draft in someone else who, in my opinion, wasn’t much more confident with surgery than myself.
Instead of offering constructive support when I couldn’t locate a bleed in the bitch spay, I was told I should have left long lengths of suture on the ovarian pedicles – as in “hanging out of the abdomen” long (something I have never seen any vet do before) – so we were in a right mess.
While I later performed an enterotomy under guidance that was ultimately successful, it felt tainted by the disgraceful way in which the practice dealt with the client’s complaint thereafter – all topped off by being berated for trying to inhale a cupcake at 4:30pm in the prep area while typing up surgical notes (I hadn’t eaten all day).
I think that day was the nail in the coffin for me. I handed my notice in shortly afterwards and very nearly considered leaving the profession altogether.
Sense of achievement
Fast forward to now, where in three months (bearing in mind I’m a mixed vet, doing 50:50 small:large), the knowledge I would never be put in that situation in my latest practice acts as a safety net.
Every vet is friendly, approachable and keen to teach and help, and would never belittle me.
I never have to worry about not being able to get help if I’m stuck or being too scared to ask for it. I don’t feel sick at the thought of doing a bitch spay and that fear of cat castrates seems like a distant memory.
So, when I buried the last knot on my cat spay, and felt a sense of achievement I couldn’t immediately define, it was like I’d reached a milestone as a new grad. I had become comfortable with routine surgery. I respect every surgery is different – especially bitch spays – and I will undoubtedly still have some awfully difficult ones to come, but for now, I feel like they aren’t scary anymore.
You could be the most confident new grad in the world, but the wrong environment will set you back. Moving practice was the absolute right decision for my confidence as a vet and, if I could change anything, I only wish I’d done it sooner.
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