Things I Learned From Vet: Sides To Every Story

In the exam room, I see a very personal, private facet of people's lives. It's also only one piece of an intricate picture. In some cases, people tell me a lot about that larger landscape. Sometimes, it never comes up, and I'll never know. But people are always complex, and a person's entire life experience contributes to the decisions they make.

There are two ways to look at this.

1. Outside In

There's so much to people you don't know. When people make the difficult choices with their ill pets, there are "obvious" factors--finances, likelihood the treatment will be a success, what the animal's quality of life is like. Then there are the hidden factors: the pet that's the last link to their dead mother, the child who's away at college, or an overseas spouse. A final straw in a string of recent losses and bad news. Someone who has the same terminal diagnosis as their pet.

I only see the one thread of their life: how are we going to work through what's wrong with your pet. But when they step outside the clinic, it's back to a full and complicated life with all its other ups and downs. Sometimes that ill cat means more to them than anyone can guess, whether they admit that freely or keep it hidden inside.

And that means there can be much more to the situation than meets the eye. I've had clients who've spent every waking minute caring for their cat or dog--hand feeding, sleeping on the floor with them, you name it. And when it's time to let them go, I feel so sad that this huge part of their life is gone. It's important to remember... there's a whole life and story there, behind that grief. It's not necessarily my fault, it's not necessarily strictly over the loss of the pet, and it's not necessarily permanent. There are other emotional factors that have brought people to that time and place in their lives.

And on the positive side of things, people have other pets, other sources of good news and support, and other passions. I may see the tragic part of what's going on right now, but there's happiness, too.

I've mostly talked about grief and loss, but this also applies to people who are acting tense, callous, or rude. Me explaining that their dog has a chronic skin condition that will be expensive to manage, may be such a strain on them they take it out on me or the staff, even though their mind is completely elsewhere. Anger is a common manifestation of guilt, for example. So here again--there's always more beneath the surface.

2. Inside Out

Things go in the other direction, too. I feel privileged to participate in what can be an intensely personal part of someone's life. Above, I talked about me seeing only one piece, and not knowing the rest of the story. But it's also true that I'm witnessing a unique, private piece of that story that very few will see.

Of course end-of-life discussions and treatment of terminal pets is a huge part of this, but it's amazing seeing how deeply someone cares for their pet, even at other times in its life. Often people come in for minor issues, worried out of their minds that something terrible might be afoot--and are so visibly, palpably relieved when I tell them the pet will be better in a few days. Those are some of the most rewarding situations.

It's fascinating to think about how the veterinary staff may be the only people who see this side of someone, like the big tough guy with tats who then spends thousands on his sick cat. Clients cry all the time, even people who probably never cry in front of others, because an exam room is a safe and private place, and they trust us even though we're essentially strangers. The loss of a pet can be a very big moment in people's lives, and as the ones to help them through that experience, we walk with them for that small but important stretch of their journey.

In a similar vein, people often confide all sorts of personal things. They'll tell me about their own medical problems, their family problems, and the tragedies in their past. While some people are obviously very open, there are others who I doubt share that information with many.

How it relates to writing:

Being in a profession that involves interpersonal relationships and service to the general public provides a lot of food for thought when it comes to characterization. It's a constant reminder that for characters to feel real, they need full and complex lives. Everyone has emotions, everyone has different sides to their story, and everyone has individual ways of dealing and reacting to situations. I think my most important take-away is that a person's/character's actions and decisions are a product of their entire lives, and all the experiences leading up to that moment.

When people talk about "flat" characters, I imagine characters who are defined by their surface, or only one "side." The old lady who will do anything to take care of her cancer patient cat in its last few weeks isn't necessarily a "crazy cat lady." The jerk antagonist with the barking doberman who's always rude to the main character probably loves that doberman deeply and would be heartbroken if anything happened to him. Even the most shallow person you know undoubtedly has thoughts and feelings that you'd never expect.

In order for characters to feel alive, they need that depth. They need to have lives before and beyond the plot. I think it's always worth pausing to consider what's else they've been through, and what big or little things have affected them. Because everyone has those moments in their life, their own personal cancer patient cats that they may be quietly dealing with behind closed doors.