Closing the Grief Gap in Veterinary Medicine

As a licensed veterinary technician, I've spent well over a decade working with pets and their people.

From traumatic cases in the ER to community spay/neuter clinics, there isn't much I haven't seen. I began working at the front desk, moved to an assistant role, became a licensed nurse, and eventually moved into veterinary leadership. In all of these roles and throughout the years, it became abundantly clear to me that we have much work to do systemically in the veterinary industry - for the benefit of our clients, their pets, and the people who serve them.

But one gap in particular stands out to me now, in my work as a pet loss grief specialist: the vast disconnect between veterinary professionals and grieving pet guardians.

We (the public, veterinary leadership) expect the staff in veterinary settings to do so much. They're supposed to be efficient, knowledgeable, trustworthy, skilled. They're scheduled back-to-back for sick visits, wellness exams, and end-of-life appointments, usually with the added demand of drop-offs and dentals/surgeries to manage in-between. And in ER, staff are expected to somehow prioritize every emergency at once, often with low staffing and no opportunity for breaks (think scarfing down cold pizza over the crash cart between treatments.) And this is the basic physical expectation of the job. This is tough enough, and must be addressed by industry leadership broadly if the sector is to survive. The issues and proposed solutions are complex.

But this isn't what stands out to me the most. This isn't why burnout and compassion fatigue run rampant in our field, and suicide rates are atypically high within the industry (https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4266064). What stands out is this: in addition to the above, team members are expected to navigate owners through the emotional minefield that is pet illness and loss. They're supposed to do this over and over each day, with a variety of clients, and then enter the next exam room unscathed. And almost always, they're expected to do it with no grief literacy training.

The result? A huge disconnect. Compassionate animal care professionals, often underpaid and overworked, are perceived as uncaring or inept by pet parents. Clients, confused and rushed and emotional, are viewed as irrational or unreasonable by veterinary team members. Usually, neither is the actual reality. Veterinary medicine is a field that often attracts deeply feeling individuals - caring for animals requires empathy and patience. We hire these people, then expect that those personality traits alone will be enough for them to successfully work with grieving clients. We send them, too often stretched thin and without adequate support, into the emotional trenches. Then we're surprised when the result is disgruntled clients and exhausted staff.

How can we expect that team members will have the capacity for supporting clients emotionally when they rarely even have the time to take a break? How would they know the best ways to approach client grief when the rare opportunities we do have to provide them with training are promised to corporate vendors - medical distribution companies selling the machines and medications used by clinics, offering "lunch and learns" in exchange for the hope of increased sales and revenue? That current model is a disservice to our clients, and to our teams. But how do we fix it? I'm not suggesting to never again schedule a free lunch for the team in exchange for sitting through a presentation about the newest anti-seizure medication. I'm proposing, though, that we also carve out time for equipping staff - ALL staff - with the tools to recognize and respond to the heaviest and most influential of client emotions: grief. Grief shows up everywhere in veterinary medicine. It shows up in the phone call a guardian makes to schedule the appointment. It shows up in the lobby, anxious and scared. And it shape shifts. This client needs to intellectualize the process to cope, bringing a list of questions and dissecting each answer. The next presents as angry, but below the surface is terrified.

Hospital staff - and that includes leadership, who should be available to assist clients in need when the rest of the team cannot step away - must be prepared to recognize grief in its various forms, and trained on how to respond in real time. Not only does this improve the client experience (I cannot overstate the importance of a positive experience for pet guardians and the residual impact on them as they navigate pet loss), it leads to a much less stressful environment for team members and helps to create more authentic and rewarding connections across the board. As Michael Scott would say, this is a classic win-win-win.

So where can we start? Clients and veterinary professionals can advocate for grief literacy training. Veterinary leaders can lead the way in making space for it. We have to prioritize closing the grief gap disconnect between veterinary professionals and pet guardians. We cannot continue to throw empathetic team members into the emotional fire, unprepared, on the assumption that their kindness will protect them from burnout and fatigue. We cannot expect pet guardians to respond to this dynamic with patience when grief is already limiting their resilience. We are entering an era where companion animals are being seen as family, and we are starting to recognize more widely the impact of pet loss and the importance of emotional intelligence in medical practice. We are in a position to acknowledge that pizza parties and minimal bonuses are not the cure-all for the mental health crisis that plagues the veterinary industry.

We exist - licensed and certified professionals who offer this type of training for teams. If you're reading this, you can be a champion for it. Opening the door for this conversation in your workplace or the clinic your pet visits is the first step. We need to empower and equip our animal care professionals to recognize and respond not only to medical conditions, but to the human condition that is grief. To book a workshop with me locally or to gift your team members with crucial 1:1 support, visit www.everkinpetloss.org/services. If you're still in the trenches in the veterinary field, please know that you are seen and appreciated.

If you are a guardian struggling with a tough pet loss experience, please know that the overwhelming majority of veterinary team members care and are doing their absolute best - and we will continue to try for better.