A Wednesday at a veterinary hospital can look “quiet” from the outside. No appointment slots. No exam rooms full of barking dogs or indignant cats. No parade of leashes, carriers, and worried faces at the front desk. People sometimes assume that means I’m off.
I’m not.
Just because I don’t see patients on Wednesdays doesn’t mean I’m not at work at the usual time, doing the usual job of keeping a practice running. It just means the work is different. And if you’ve ever wondered what happens on the days your veterinarian isn’t in the exam room, I’ll tell you: plenty. Enough that the day can disappear before you realize it’s almost 3 p.m. and you still haven’t done the “planning” you promised yourself you’d do.
Normally, Wednesdays include surgery patients going home. Yesterday’s surgery patients went home yesterday, so I didn’t have that typical discharge rhythm today. But the day still started with animals and ended with animals, which is honestly the only way I like it.
This morning I vaccinated our adoption puppies. Rescue puppies are a special kind of joy and a special kind of chaos. They are sweet, enthusiastic, and completely committed to whatever terrible idea they’ve just had. Puppies sometimes do some smelly things, but they do have fun doing them. I requested they get a bath, because while I respect their sense of adventure, I do not want that adventure riding home with a new family in the back seat.
Vaccinating adoption puppies is one of those tasks that looks simple until you remember what it represents. It’s not just a shot. It’s prevention, planning, and a promise. It’s us saying, “We’re going to give you the best start we can.” It’s also a reminder that veterinary medicine isn’t only about treating illness. A lot of what we do is preventing problems that would be harder, more expensive, and more painful later.
I also microchipped a rescue dog who should be leaving today after almost three months of boarding. We will miss her, but I wish her well. If you’ve never worked in a clinic, you might not realize how attached we get to animals that stay with us for long stretches. Boarding isn’t the same as owning a pet, but when you see the same face every day, you learn their habits. You learn what makes them nervous and what makes them relax. You learn who eats immediately and who needs encouragement. You learn which toy they carry around like it’s a job.
Microchipping is another one of those “small” things that carries a lot of weight. It’s a simple procedure, but it can be the difference between a lost dog staying lost and a lost dog coming home. It’s not a tracking device. It’s not a GPS. It’s an ID number that links to information, when it’s registered and kept up to date. That’s the part I always want people to remember: the chip is only as good as the registration behind it. If you move, change phone numbers, or change ownership, update the chip information. It’s one of the easiest ways to protect your pet, and it only works if the data is current.
Between the puppies and the microchip, I did get a few things on my list from last week done. I also ran into roadblocks on some other things, which is a very normal Wednesday experience. If you’ve ever tried to handle paperwork, legal issues, taxes, or anything that requires other people to respond in a timely manner, you know what I mean. You can be ready, organized, and motivated, and still get stuck waiting. And don’t miss that my keyboard died. New batteries to the rescue, but it took me a few minutes to figure out what was going on.
On the personal side, I’m still dealing with my parents’ estates. My lawyer has acknowledged that 21 months might be a little long to start proceedings. I have a new lawyer now, but that lawyer’s office has not acknowledged receipt of the papers that were emailed two weeks ago. I don’t want it to be another drawn-out ordeal.
I’m sharing that not for sympathy, but because it’s part of the reality behind the scenes for many professionals. People imagine doctors as “just busy at work.” The truth is we are also adult children, family members, and humans with responsibilities that don’t pause because we have a clinic to run. Stress doesn’t politely schedule itself around our work hours. It shows up when it shows up, and we still have to do our jobs well.
I did take a few minutes to check on how Saipan is recovering. They are still mostly without power and lines for daily water and food distribution. Some of my donation supplies arrived, but I’m not sure about the rest. I know they will go to good use.
At the same time, I’m starting to get excited about my trip to Iceland in August. Social media is starting to send me breathtaking videos, which is both inspiring and dangerous. Inspiring because it looks incredible. Dangerous because it creates the illusion that the trip is “basically planned” because I’ve watched ten videos of waterfalls. Of course, I also have to make travel arrangements and get appropriate layering wet gear, wet gear, but not as wet as scuba diving.
Although, I did have the thought: there’s that dive trip between the continents. Then reality set in. That requires drysuit qualifications, and that requires ten drysuit dives. Maybe snorkeling would be okay. Sometimes the most responsible decision is accepting that not every adventure fits into every season of life. There’s a lot to be said for doing the trip you can do safely and enjoyably, instead of forcing the trip you think you “should” do.
I also need to find time for a short workout. After the trip back for 50 years of Women at the Academies, I would like not to stand out as much. That’s the honest truth. I’m not trying to become a fitness influencer. I’m trying to feel better in my body and have enough stamina for the work I do. Veterinary medicine is physical. It’s lifting. It’s restraining. It’s standing for long stretches. It’s moving quickly when something goes wrong. We don’t talk about that part enough.
Now it’s almost 3 p.m. and I don’t have any planning done for the trip. But I did get the week’s accounting. I still have a lot to do to file last year’s taxes. (Last year was rough. I might have left a few things slide.) That’s another behind-the-scenes reality: the medical work is only part of running a practice. There is always a second job layered underneath the first one: business management, compliance, payroll, taxes, inventory, equipment maintenance, and a thousand small decisions that keep the doors open. Thank Goodness Mike helps now.
I did attend a continuing education class on emergencies in private practice and filed away a couple of new tips. I have another webinar this afternoon on pain medication that should be more informative. Continuing education is one of the parts of my job I genuinely enjoy, even when I’m tired. It reminds me that there’s always more to learn, and it gives me tools I can use immediately. Medicine changes. Recommendations evolve. New options appear. If you want your veterinarian to stay current, you want them doing exactly this kind of work on the days they’re not seeing patients.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I had a very modern problem: I lost the link to the Jeep gear I was ordering when the internet crashed. Reloaded, and the order was gone. Email to recover the link sent. That’s not life-or-death, but it’s one more tiny friction point that eats time and attention. Wednesdays are full of those. Oh, and the roof has a new leak. The roof that I paid over $10,000 to get repaired last year.
I also have to see if I can take a weekend to go see the bats of Bracken Cave. That might have to wait until next year. I’ve learned that wanting to do something and having the bandwidth to do it are two different things. Sometimes planning is less about desire and more about realism.
Tonight is pottery lesson night. After sixteen weeks, I can make a credible bowl. I may have made a few passable plates, but it remains to be seen if they will crack. Pottery has been good for me because it forces patience. You can’t rush clay. You can’t bully it into behaving. You have to pay attention, make small adjustments, and accept that sometimes things fail in the kiln even when you did your best. That’s not a bad life lesson for a veterinarian, either.
And here’s the funny part: after a day like this, I am happy to be back to work tomorrow so I can see some dogs and cats and scaly and feathered things. Wednesdays may be varied, but they lack the critters that I love. The animals are the part that fills my cup. The rest is necessary, but it’s not why I chose this life.
So if you ever wonder what your veterinarian is doing on a day without appointments, the answer is: working. Preventing problems. Keeping the practice functioning. Learning new information to use on your pet. Handling the unglamorous parts of medicine and business and adulthood. Trying to plan a trip, trying to stay healthy, trying to keep life from becoming one long to-do list.
Just another Wednesday.
MJ Wixsom, DVM MS is a best-selling Amazon author who practices at Guardian Animal Medical Center in Kentucky. GuardianAnimal.com She has volunteered at Saipan Cares, learned to dive while in Saipan and is a donor supporter of CNMI Sinlaku recovery efforts.
Editor’s note: The views and opinions expressed in this op-ed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of NMI News Service or its staff. All assertions are the sole responsibility of the writer. To submit an op-ed for consideration, email your piece to brad.ruszala@nminewsservice.com.