28 Oct 2021
Lisa Winkle, an RVN at Vet-AI, details her battle with looking after her mental health and how the profession can begin to fight back.
Lisa Winkle
Job Title
Image © andrey_orlov / Adobe Stock
I worked in veterinary practice for nearly 14 years. The first practice was a lovely old vicarage in a beautiful little town. I did my veterinary nurse training there and they were like my family. After eight years I felt I had achieved all I could and it was time to move on to pastures new.
The thought of a new place and people was daunting. The new practice was very busy and rather different to what I had been used to. However, everyone was welcoming, and after a few weeks I had settled in well. Fast forward six years – I had become the senior nurse and had a lot of responsibilities.
We were a busy, thriving practice. I took on the role of training students, alongside my other daily duties, and out-of-hours on-call became necessary, so I also shared that with another nurse. Some weeks I would find myself working in excess of 60 hours. But I carried on, believing it was necessary, and if I didn’t keep my head up and march on, I would be thought badly of or be “letting the side down”.
I find in this profession we often feel we cannot show weakness or ask others for help. We somehow feel unable to admit we aren’t coping, or are feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.
I have to admit that my own mindset did not assist me well. I have always been very stoic and just “got on” with things, refusing to admit defeat or delegate. I think a lot of my peers can relate. However, my passion for the job and the animals kept driving me onwards.
One Thursday morning I went into work as normal, bracing myself for another crazy shift. But things were different; something had shifted within me. I felt strange, as though I was in a dream-like trance – my colleagues were talking to me, but I just wasn’t registering.
I felt a pounding in my chest and I started to struggle to breathe. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. It was a panic attack and I was terrified. I went straight to my head nurse and asked if I could go home.
I had finally reached my breaking point. I went straight to the doctors and asked for help because I knew things were bad. Many don’t reach out because a fear of admitting you are struggling still exists; a stigma attached to those suffering from mental health problems, meaning people suffer in silence – and it’s taking lives.
I hit rock bottom and, to be quite honest, it’s the lowest I have ever been. I don’t make a habit of talking about it often, but if I help just one person reading this then I have achieved a win. It is possible to change things, and to quote Albus Dumbledore:
“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one remembers to turn on the light.”
Hope and help is always there if you reach out and ask. I came out of it the other side, but there were times when I wasn’t sure I would. I am now happy, healthy, content and in a job I absolutely love. I am living proof you can turn things around, no matter how desperate things might seem.
Many of my colleagues were supportive; the ones who weren’t just didn’t understand it. Unfortunately, at this point, I did not know about charities such as Vetlife as they were never brought to my attention by my employer. I don’t blame my practice for anything, it simply did not have the support or resources, and it did the best with what it had.
This job is hard – it’s emotionally draining, the expectations of clients are often unrealistically high, we have to deal with difficult and sometimes even aggressive pet owners, we often aren’t paid enough, practices are poorly mismanaged, nurses are in short supply due to being undervalued and overworked, we see death more than we would like to (and carry that burden daily), we have the constant threat of disciplinary action if we put a foot wrong – the list is endless.
The thing is, we remember every patient we save and every patient we lose. They stay with us. Our hearts and lives are so invested in this job, more than the clients probably realise. They only see a very small part of what we do, and often have very little idea of what our job actually entails. That’s not entirely their fault; I feel it’s not publicised enough – all they see in the media is the “happy” side, and nothing of the blood, sweat and tears that go on behind the scenes.
We seem to put our sanity and mental health last on the list. Of course, the animals are always our number one priority; that goes without saying. But when did it become acceptable for us to bend over backwards for clients, submitting to their every whim no matter how ridiculous and pushing in just “one” more consult or op because it suited, or because the client became abusive/aggressive?
The after effect of that being someone missing his or her lunch break, or staying late, adding another hour to an already exhausting day. These are the things clients don’t see or think about. They take “no” for an answer when it comes from their doctor or dentist, so why should their vet be any different? We, as a profession, have allowed that behaviour.
If we aren’t at our best and firing on all cylinders, mentally and physically, how can we possibly provide animals with the gold-star service they deserve? I am pretty certain that if pet owners understood the immense pressure and strain we are sometimes under – and how it could potentially impact the welfare of their animals – they would think twice before complaining or abusing us via social media platforms. One negative comment can do a lot of damage to a person’s mental state when he or she is already feeling stressed and burnt out.
I can see improvements as awareness is slowly shifting, and things are getting better, but I feel more still needs to be done. I am extremely fortunate the company I work for is 100% behind improving mental health within the veterinary industry, and is comprised of an exceptionally supportive and understanding team. We are all going to be attending a mental health first aider course – something I strongly believe should be instigated into all practices. Early intervention is key – having people on hand who can recognise the signs and support, encourage and be a source of kindness is critical.
Vets and nurses are taking their own lives at an alarming rate, consequently destroying the lives of the people who love and care for them. It’s an epidemic. It has to change, there is no choice. We need to stand together, raise awareness and protect our profession. Members of the public can help us, they just don’t realise it yet.
Here are a few tools and some advice that helped me. I feel practices really need to incorporate these into a working day:
Work isn’t meant to destroy us, drain our energy/mental resources or take over our every waking moment.
Working for Vet-AI has really opened my eyes. It is possible to help the animals we so deeply care about, and have a full and enriched life alongside.
