I feel as if I have reached a milestone in my veterinary
training. Last week, I successfully completed my first dog
spay. There were many classes and much training leading up to
this point, including an introduction to anesthesia and surgery
course last year and our current junior surgery course. In
addition to watching countless numbers of spays and neuters while
previously working at an animal shelter, I had assumed this would
be no big deal. I had a team of two other classmates, one
working anesthesia, and one as a surgery assistant. I also had
several professors and technicians as guides during the entire
procedure.
I entered the surgery suite feeling totally prepared, but there
is still the nervousness that comes from the life of another
creature being in your hands. This was not just any patient
for me, but one I had gotten to know pretty well over the previous
week. The dogs and cats we spayed last week came from various
shelters in the area and after their castration, would be ready to
be adopted to a new forever home. For the surgeon that week,
the responsibility was two-fold: spay your assigned animal and care
for them the entire week. I had thought it would be pretty
basic and maybe even monotonous: take the patient to go potty
throughout the day, perform physical exams daily, and vital signs
twice daily. The wonderful animal caretakers were responsible
for providing food and water for the animals. It seemed
simple enough, except for this one problem-I fell in love with this
little dog. I was tricked! The care of this animal
became more than just a babysitting routine that week, this dog
quickly felt like my own. Trips to go to the bathroom in the
yard became opportunities to play with the other dogs and times for
lots of head pats and scratches on the neck. It was quite a
sight to behold with each designated surgeon that week playing with
their dogs in the yard and referring to them naturally as "my dog"
or another name they had come up with. "My dog" quickly
became lovingly called "BatGirl," as she had unnaturally large ears
for her body that stuck out to the side (coincidently the Rangers
began competing in the World Series the day she was spayed, so her
name ended up having two meanings.)
I found that I was not only glad to see her first thing in the
morning before school, but I began to wonder how she was doing when
I was not there. Was she happy? Did she get to relax
much that day? And most frequently, would she find a good
home some day? As one could imagine, my first spay was not
just on any dog, but was on BatGirl, a dog whose personality I had
grown to cherish. I found myself like a nervous parent whose
child was about to undergo surgery. Yet I was not just the
parent, but the surgeon too.
Last week I learned some important lessons. Being a
veterinarian is not just about knowing the basics of aseptic
technique or ligating vessels properly, it is also having
compassion and concern for each patient as if they were your very
own BatGirl.