We lost another colleague recently. I didn’t know them personally, but I have seen the many statements of grief, shock and disbelief left in the wake of their passing, and have been deeply saddened to think of another member of the veterinary profession finding themselves in a place where they felt there was no other way out.
Suicide is not a problem exclusive to vets, and I don’t want to pretend it is, but the suicide rate for vets is four times the national average, and twice that of health professionals. When I hear and read the opinions of some profession members implying the job has always been tough, and that we need to toughen up with it, I think of these statistics.
Why us?
It’s true, the job has always been emotionally punishing – the real James Herriot had mental health issues, and the real Siegfried Farnon was, himself, a victim of suicide. But that doesn’t make it okay.
As a profession, we have been talking more recently about the mental and emotional burden of the job. I’m going to talk about it some more here, and I think we should keep talking about it as long as those statistics remain as high as they are. Why is our profession, in particular, plagued with this problem?
Influencing factors
Obviously, many factors away from the job – different for every person – have a massive influence. I suspect they are the main reason in the majority of cases, but the fact our risk is so much higher means the job must be having a significant influence, too, and it’s not difficult to see why. Being a vet can be rewarding, and it can be wonderful, but if your defences are low, it can be brutal.
A 2010 paper in Vet Record proposes some ideas as to why, and I agree with much of it. The kind of person who wants to become a vet is likely to have different feelings about animals than the kind of person who wants to become, say, an investment banker, and yet, he or she will spend much of his or her daily life seeing animals suffer, causing them pain and distress in an attempt to prevent further suffering and, occasionally, killing them.
A close relationship with death
In my opinion, our close association with the ending of life may be the most important reason why our risk is so much higher. Many people spend most of their lives not talking about death, and trying not to think about it much either, and who can blame them?
As a vet, you spend a lot of time talking about it, thinking about it and dealing in it. In this respect, I think we are unique – even among medical professionals. Human doctors see death and discuss and think about it, but human lifespans are almost an order of magnitude longer than veterinary patients and, consequently, these events occur less frequently. Not only that, but doctors are not – at least openly – actively involved in the ending of life in that same way we are.
I suspect I am not alone in the profession for having had days at work (usually around Christmas time) when I have personally ended the life of five or more animals. I can’t believe this doesn’t have an effect on at least some of us.
Not what we signed up for
By necessity, we break down the taboos over death. We constantly explain to clients about how death is not always a bad thing; how when nothing but suffering is left, death can bring an end to that suffering.
We’re not lying to these clients; we believe this to be true. So what happens when we realise we are suffering ourselves? When we can’t see through the fog ahead except to feel, deep in our hearts, that only suffering lies ahead for us as well? Where does our training, and our years of explaining death, take us?
I can only know my own mind, and I can’t speak for us all, but I do think we should talk about this. The more we do; the more we talk about the challenges we face; the times when the job is not the job we thought it would be, the more we might realise we are not alone – that many of us have felt this way.
You are not alone!
Finally, if you are struggling in the morning, not sleeping at night, dwelling on difficult cases or feeling evening surgery stretches out to eternity, please don’t do it alone. When it feels heavy, cold and dark; the fog won’t clear; and only suffering seems to be ahead, please remember you are not alone.
Nobody has ever been where you are, but some of us may have been somewhere like it and, although it feels impossible, together we might be able to find a way out of it.
Telephone Vetlife (0303 0402551), a friend, parent or stranger. Message one of us. Message me. I’ll try to help. We all will. And even if we can’t help, we might understand something about the place you are in.
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