05/09/2021
As I alluded to in my first post, I feared that I was going to be one of those veterinarians that everyone talks disparagingly about- the ones who make conversation with the pets rather than their owners, or the ones who wished that pets could walk into the clinic on their own and pay their bills themselves. But in all honesty, that’s not true. I don’t hate people at all, and I think I’ve got decent bedside manner. I did interview horribly (I cried immediately after both of the behavioral interviews I participated in because I knew how badly they went) because, at least when I was in my early 20’s, I had no idea how to not blank out when faced with a high-stress, high-stakes, one-on-one conversation with someone I’d never met before.
Although to be fair, I still interview horribly, but now I know to tell people that it takes me some time to find my feet when I’m surrounded by new people and new places.
I haven’t always known that I’m autistic. Actually, I technically don’t even know I am right now- I’m self diagnosed (or “on the suspectrum”, haha)- but the more I learn, the more I make sense to myself, and the more I understand why some things have been a struggle for my entire life. I’d reached a point where I could accept that I would never be good at certain tasks, but still felt like if I could just try harder or really apply myself, I might still manage to be better someday. I’ve been angry with myself forever because while I could manage to be intelligent enough to pass veterinary boards (despite having absolutely no interest in cows or pigs), I somehow couldn’t manage to keep my study spaces tidy, or make appointments on time, or have an easy, natural conversation on the phone. I considered myself lazy, fundamentally broken, or bad at life, which is a perspective that makes it awfully hard to practice any sort of self compassion.
I’m interested in exploring the intersection of neurodiversity and veterinary medicine because I think this field really plays to our strengths while also forcing us to find ways to confront the things that challenge us. Autism gives me just as many advantages as it does difficulties. For me, here’s what I find I really excel at and the things I hope to figure out how to improve at:
Strengths:
-I’m excellent at reading animal body language. I practiced fear free handling well before there was an official term for it.
-I’m always willing to dig deep into research on a patient’s behalf.
-I have very high ethical standards.
-I’m a rockstar surgeon and I have been told that I’m also very bold, willing to perform surgeries that others shy away from because I have a lot of trust in my surgical skills.
-I am endlessly interested in vet med (I love that my job is my special interest, and my enthusiasm for it hasn’t waned since I was in vet school!). This is sometimes also a weakness, because as neurodivergent people know, your special interest can take up your attention at the cost of other things that you could/should be giving your energy to. Sometimes it looks like I’m a workaholic.
-I am excellent at maintaining a nonjudgemental approach to clients, because it is extremely easy for me to empathize with their situation (even if I have to make up a hypothetical situation in my head).
Weaknesses:
- I suck at charting. I cannot for the life of me figure out a way to consistently, efficiently chart. Charting sucks my soul. I can choose to devote my energy to client interaction or to charting efficiently, and client interaction pretty much always wins. And then I’m left charting after hours or on weekends, or just not getting it done at all (ugh, I KNOW I KNOW).
-I get progressively less tolerant of questions (from clients, staff, colleagues, etc) throughout the day, until I reach a point where I have to stifle a cringe every time I hear footsteps approaching the office.
-I have to mask to interact well with clients, and I think sometimes clients can tell. I’ve been called inauthentic, told that I talked about irrelevant subjects during the exam, and told that I’m cold. And sometimes clients see me once and then don’t want to schedule with me anymore. I can tell when an interaction is going south, which throws me off and makes it harder to mask at all, and then my autism slips out (oops) which can make me sound unsure of myself or not very affable. Masking is also extremely exhausting. I’ve always been envious of people who can walk into an exam room with a stranger and strike up a conversation like they’ve known each other for years. That will never be me.
-I sometimes struggle to comprehend how or why someone could behave in an unethical manner. My endless optimism can make me blind to someone trying to take advantage of me, which happens more often that I care to admit.
-Engaging with my staff is tough. Small talk is very unnatural and tiring to me, but I know that it is a foundation on which relationships are built. But when I’m trying to put energy into my interactions with clients and patients, sometimes there’s nothing left to put into those conversations with my staff and colleagues. I can do it, but it requires intentional effort, and I’m usually not listening to responses well because I am focusing really hard on deciding whether I’m asking the right sorts of questions.
-Existing in a small office with other doctors is hard. Misophonia (extreme emotions induced by sounds, especially sounds associated with eating) is a real struggle, and since we all pretty much eat where we are working, it means trying not to murder my colleagues every lunch hour. I used to feel a lot of shame around this, but now I accept that it’s not something I’m in control of, and I just put on headphones or leave if possible.
-Phone calls are the worst. I cannot figure out the pace of a phone call, when it’s my turn to talk, or how to show the other person that I’m actively listening to them. I have to write down what I need to say prior to the call, and if I get off track, I don’t know how to redirect the conversation. Sometimes I say things that are simply untrue because my mind blanks out and I end up reaching for what I think the client might want me to say?! It sucks a lot and is the reason I much prefer to email rather than call a client.
So, this is me. I don’t know if any of this resonates with other veterinarians, but if it does, have you found ways to play to your strengths or work around your weaknesses?
[Image description: A green box on top of a background of a plant with yellow leaves and red stems contains black text that reads "Neurodivergency comes with strengths and challenges. How do you excel? Where do you struggle?" An icon of a sleeping dog is below the text.]
