This week I received an email that had a picture of a dog’s foot attached. The sutures I placed in the cut footpad three days previously were holding nicely and the wound was healing well. Relief ensued. Then I read the accompanying message – ‘Looking great. Happy here. Do we really need to come back in for the check up?’. And with these simple words, my heart sank.
Growing up as a child, I was surrounded by animals and art, the two running harmoniously together. Eventually I had to choose. I played it safe. I followed the defined career path to become a veterinary surgeon.
My name is James Greenwood and I am a vet. I initially turned a blind eye to the plight of our junior doctors. Then reports of disillusionment, emigration and even suicide started to follow. For two professions that historically share a friendly rivalry, I fear we have found some unsavoury common ground. I will attempt to shed light.