Success is all about a catchy hook

I think it is important that you, the reader, understand that we, the majority of veterinarians, enter this field in part because we are socially awkward creatures that have a difficult time interacting with others. Working with animals seems like the right fit.

What we realize after graduating, however, is that animals come with owners. Unless the animal is feral there's no way around interacting with another

human being when treating a pet. There was a short time during the whole 'Rona fiasco where we were able to see the pet and then lock the pet parent outside-- but it didn't last nearly long enough for an introvert like myself. Veterinarians often give themselves daily pep talks for working with owners. It's not an exaggeration to say that I have been drinking my morning coffee (without a nice healthy shot of Bailey's I might add), looking in the mirror and telling myself: "It's okay, they are probably nice people", "You will NOT be weird today", "No one will accidentally hold your hand while you listen to their pets' heart" or "What are the odds, really, that a dog will accidentally free your boob from both your blouse and the cup of your bra again ..."

They say all things happen in threes. If you get a foreign body in hospital, well giddy up cowboy, there are two more down the line. This, unfortunately, also happens to be true for awkward encounters.

One of my first appointments the other day was a euthanasia of a beloved family pet. These tend to be gut-wrenching. Tears are always a high-risk possibility and so we stock the comfort room with tissues (and bottles water). Thankfully, the process went smoothly from start to finish. That is until the owner was about to leave. She asked if she could give me a hug. Now, generally speaking I don't like to be touched by strangers. I also understand in difficult moments like this human contact can be a balm to a broken heart. She gave me a big bear hug. It lasted well past an appropriate length of time for a couple of strangers to be holding on to one another. When I thought the hug was over, it was sealed with the owner wiping her nose on my neck. On. My. Neck! She calmly walked out as if she didn't just leave my neck in need of decontamination treatment to get rid of the human bodily fluid. Of course, that appointment ran over it's allotted scheduled slot and I don't have the time to burn off 7 layers of skin from my body in a scalding hot shower and so I did my best to wash my neck off in the exam room before running into my next appointment.

My next appointment just before lunch was for the ever-frustrating skin condition. Depending on the season approximately 50% of my sick pet patients have underlying skin related condictions. I delved into my well rehearsed speach on allergies, bacterial/fungal infections, parasitic infestation and overall itchiness. As I discussed the medications with the owner, a hefty middle-aged fella, he asked me if his rash was related his dogs rash. I mumbled "unlikely", only to hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper. The man promptly started to lower his pants and had gotten to nearly a full moon view before I got the words out "I'm not an MD, you'd have to ask your own doctor about that rash". This is something I will never be able to unsee.

Finally, I was nearing the end of my day (thank the Gods! Old and the New!). [Side bar-- It's important to note that I had only just recently purchased my small animal hospital and so I had not had the pleasure of meeting all of my clients as of yet]. I entered the exam room for my final appointment of the day. I did a physical exam on a really lovely dog and had a great chat with the owner. I had successfully maintained a solid 20 minute "normal" interaction with this lovely person. I should have known that it was all too good to be true. At the end of our time together I leaned over the treatment table and confidently extended my hand for a goodbye shake. He raised his arm out to me and both of our eyes dropped down to what was not his hand... no no no ... it was a hook. That's right - my staff, who warn me of all sorts of trivial things about our clients (she's a talker, she smells like a candle store, he will blame his wife for his dog's weight) forgot to warn me that my current client was literally missing body parts (he wore a prosthetic on one hand and a hook on the other). We both looked at his extended arm with a hook afixed to the end and then back up to each other for a moment of strong eye contact-- multiple times-- for what seems to be the longest minutes of my life. I felt the sweat going down my back. All my thoughts have jarred to a halt. I'm praying that it is humanly possible to just evaporate in both time and space. I wanted to melt under the tile floor -- Honestly, what's a girl to do in this kind of situation? There's no "Appropriate-Social-Human-Interaction"101 class in veterinary school teaching us how to recover from such unbelievable faux-pas social mishaps. I went to vet school because I love animals and am basically a walking panic attack when dealing with so called "normal people". Anyway, I did what I think any other confident Badass Beesh (read: super embarrassed and awkward individual) would do in this situation... I shook the hook.

#thatsmylife #awkward #justgowithit #vetmed #lol