4 May 2020
Nat discusses fear being a companion in the second of her new series of diaries during COVID-19.
Nat Scroggie
Job Title
Image © OscarDiMalva / Adobe Stock
I started the week as a night vet for an emergency service. As I let myself in the side gate of the practice, I was met by a large blue marquee. It was hard to decide if it looked more like Doctor Who’s Tardis or a police tent covering the scene of a death.
It turns out the latter was not far off. Inside were two plastic chairs and an old metal examination table. I was told this was where I would need to perform euthanasia.
I pictured myself at the doorway, clad fully in mask, gloves and gown, ending a life down a drip line two metres long. I have never had to express humanity from behind a wall of impersonal protective equipment, and I felt a pang of painful empathy for our colleagues in ICU wards.
The sound of an on-call telephone ringing in the night always triggers a surge of adrenaline. But as someone who thrives on the thrill of emergency and critical care, I have never found it frightening.
Fear is the constant companion of coronavirus. Fear of the unknown, and perhaps greater, fear of the known. But something else is dominating the COVID-19 scene: the uprising of communities.
We have learned the names of our neighbours yelled across the road as we clap and bang saucepans for key workers. We have made food parcels and picked up prescriptions for vulnerable people we didn’t know existed a month ago. We have remembered to check in on each other’s mental health.
The biggest of all this for me has been the veterinary community. Dialling in to [BVA president] Daniella Dos Santos’ Sunday briefing feels like pressing my hand on the window to thousands of colleagues who are just a screen away. We are all navigating huge challenges, but in that hour, we are navigating them together.
Free webinars have taken place on everything from remote consulting to socialising puppies during lockdown. In fact, my diary has never been so full.
I have become almost uncomfortably aware of how lucky our profession is. My architect fiancé is also self-employed, and no equivalent exists. So, I brought him into ours instead. In between difficult shifts we have howled with laughter completing live-streamed exercise classes with VetFit and lost ourselves to VetYogi.
The most remarkable thing about the veterinary community is its inclusivity. It does not distinguish between clinical or non-clinical, student, retired, or on mat leave. You are no less a member if you are employed, self-employed or unemployed. Everyone is welcome – even architects.
Ironically, plugging in to the virtual veterinary world has been my break from veterinary. The single part of the day where I stop playing out hypothetical clinical scenarios in my head; forget about the big blue marquee.
On the morning of my third night shift I received a telephone call to say the out-of-hours service had been closed, and telephone calls diverted to a centralised practice. A rush of relief hit me that I would never set foot in that tent. I had lost the last few precious locum shifts of the month, but at the time of writing, I have yet to suffer my first coronavirus euthanasia. For this, I feel very privileged.
It is almost certainly a reprieve, and not an escape. But when that day comes, I know a whole community will be ready to catch me.
Whatever you may feel about social media, there is no doubt internet access is the new golden ticket to society. The online veterinary community is roaring: sign in and bring your loved ones. It may not be quite as good as connecting in person, but I would still give it a solid 8 out of 10. Not bad for a global pandemic.
Stay well x
