Twenty-Five Years

I graduated from veterinary school exactly twenty-five years ago today. I've seen a lot of changes. The most profound change has been the influx of women into the profession. Right now the student population at veterinary colleges nationwide is 80% female. My class (Texas A&M - 1983) was exactly 50:50. This is a pretty remarkable turn of events considering there were hardly any women veterinarians at all before 1970. The women in my class (and those I've known since graduation) were all completely capable of doing anything I could do. There were a few hard-core feminists when we started, but by the time we graduated I think they realized that nobody cared about their gender. They earned (or failed to earn) respect from their peers based on their abilities. This was as it should be. It will be interesting to see what develops over the next thirty years as we old geezers retire and are replaced by young women. I wonder if there is a similar trend in the UK and Europe (Red or Asterisk, if you read this maybe you could check that out for me.)

I've been in Ballinger for almost twenty years after spending my first five years of practice in Fort Worth. Things have changed a lot here as well. People care more about their pets for one thing. The older rural population had a utilitarian view of animals. Each and every creature served a purpose and was valued accordingly. If an animal failed to fulfill its function (ie. a Border Collie that wouldn't herd sheep) or if it developed an illness that cost more to cure than it was worth, it was put down without a second thought, usually with a bullet to the head (euthanasia performed by a vet cost money). These people weren't cruel. They didn't let their animals suffer. They just saw everything as having a strictly economic value. I quickly decided that it wasn't my place to judge them, but I did try my best to enlighten them, usually with mixed results. Happily that view is becoming a thing of the past. A lot of those folks have passed away and their children tend to see their pets as members of the family. They are embarrassed when they spend money on them, but they do it anyway.

There has been a profound change in agriculture since I came here. When I first arrived on the scene cattle and sheep were abundant. I saw them daily and in substantial numbers. Now the commercial sheep business in this part of the state is all but dead (there are a lot more goats, though) and I might see one cow a week. There were 12 to 15 small dairies (less than 100 cows) when I came here. Now there is one. There are, however,several enormous dairies with 1000 or more cows, but these enterprises use out of town consultants for their veterinary needs. The men and women that farm and ranch are getting old and their children aren't interested in taking their places. A lot of land has been placed in CRP (a government program that pays landowners to idle their land) or sold to city people for recreational use. The illegal immigrants that used to do all the dirty work are now working on construction crews in big cities. Most of the infrastructure (barns, working pens, fences...) is crumbling. When my time here is over I really don't think I will be replaced. The days of the small town vet are almost over.

I'm glad I chose this profession. I wanted to be able to help sick animals. I wanted to earn a decent living. I didn't want every day to be the same. I wanted to be challenged mentally and physically. I wanted to make a difference in my community. It hasn't always been easy. I've made plenty of stupid mistakes. I've lost my temper. I've had some spectacular failures. I haven't been much of a businessman. I've had to weather some serious storms - a ten year drought, a rabies epidemic, plagues of grasshoppers and army worms, the arrival of Africanized Bees, Fire Ants and West Nile Virus. I once did a C-section on a cow in weather so cold that the metal instruments froze to my fingers they way your tongue sticks to a Popsicle. I've done a C-section on a daschund by flashlight during a massive hailstorm. I've palpated (stuck my arm up their rectum to feel for a calf) 350 cows in four hours. I've had to tell people I love dearly that their beloved pet was dying. All in all it has been very humbling, and very rewarding. I have indeed been blessed.