The baskets may not seem like much. They're filled with assorted little gifts — maybe snacks, coffee mugs, wine or beer, lotion, an inspirational book or a fuzzy blanket. And a journal. Always a journal.
Trinkets, sure. But a basket full of them, received as a gift from a group of colleagues, can palpably boost morale — at least when exchanged among professionals in one of the country's most stressed-out industries: veterinary medicine.
In a program sponsored by the Minnesota Veterinary Medical Association (MVMA), vet clinics receive gift baskets, enjoy the contents, refill the baskets with similar items and send them along to other vet practices.
"People were just so excited and so shocked and overwhelmed because it was just such a great idea — so kind and thoughtful," said Dr. Anna Ruelle, owner of Camden Pet Hospital in Minneapolis.
Her clinic received a basket in 2020, not long after the exchange started. It's a project called MOVetForward, a multi-pun name referring to MOVE, for Minnesota Opportunities for Veterinary Engagement, the industry group that conceived of the basket exchange.
"It was exactly what we all needed to feel supported by other people in our profession when everyone's having kind of a hard time," said Ruelle, a member of the MOVE task force.
Emotionally challenging work
Hard times — in vet clinics? That might surprise animal lovers who think it would be fun to work with pets. And of course sometimes it is. People who go into veterinary medicine love animals, too.
Yet veterinarians and veterinary technicians (the latter's role is similar to that of nurses — taking vital signs, drawing blood and performing lab procedures, for example) have among the most emotionally challenging jobs out there, industry experts say. There's a nationwide shortage in both professions, in part because people get burned out and leave. That was happening before COVID, but the pandemic has left clinics even shorter staffed.
Then there are financial challenges: vets' college debt is typically wildly disproportionate to their income. "People seem to think that veterinarians make a ton of money, but we definitely, definitely don't," Ruelle said. In 2020, median pay was just over $99,000, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics — less than half what doctors make, yet the cost of their education can actually be higher, So they can emerge from school with more debt and less income to pay it.
But perhaps the biggest cause of vet burnout is related to compassion fatigue, a term that has become familiar during the COVID pandemic, usually in reference to human health care professionals — overworked and understaffed doctors and nurses who've had to watch many patients die.
The big difference with veterinarians is that their job regularly requires them to euthanize their patients — including many that could have been saved if the money were available for treatment.
"Medically, when we want to do what's best for a patient but can't, that can be really, really hard," Ruelle said.
One result of these pressures is that veterinary professionals have among the highest suicide rates — more than twice the population in general, according to Not One More Vet, an organization working to improve mental health wellness in the veterinary community. In a poll, the organization said, 91% of vets said they "faced an ethical/moral dilemma every week, and it causes them a great deal of stress."
Athena Diesch-Chham, a clinical social worker formerly in the University of Minnesota's College of Veterinary Medicine who specializes in working with vets, contests the term "compassion fatigue," as it usually implies emotional exhaustion leading to diminished empathy.
"I have never met a veterinarian that stopped caring," said Diesch-Chham, who operates Restorative Path Counseling & Wellbeing in Northfield. "They actually care so deeply that their cases keep them up at night; they think about them when they're not at work."
Money drives vet care
Humans sometimes die because they can't afford the necessary treatment (in a 2021 poll, 12.7 million Americans reported a friend or relative dying during the previous year for lack of funds). But money is nearly always a factor in whether pets get lifesaving care, Diesch-Chham said.
"With every interaction, every day, every conversation, every client there is a conversation around money," Diesch-Chham said. "Clients not having the money to afford what needs to be done — that is absolutely devastating."
Yet potentially even more agonizing are cases where a client can't easily afford a treatment but sacrifices to have it done anyway, "because now the pressure is on me," Diesch-Chham said, speaking from a vet's perspective. "I have to be able to perform to the highest level to make sure this animal survives, to make sure this person doesn't end up homeless, eating mac and cheese and ramen for the next five years."
Ruelle agreed that vets tend to blame themselves.
"Medicine is not an exact science," she said. "When you have unexpected, unhappy outcomes, you feel like a failure, you feel like you did something wrong or could have done something differently and it could have come out better."
Baskets brighten their day
MOVE, the vet task force that launched the basket program, was organized in 2018 to give veterinarians, especially younger ones, activities where they could mingle with their peers.
"Mainly just to listen and sound off on some of their stories," said Kelly Andrews, assistant director of the MVMA.
Early events included Twins games and brewery parties, often with financial advisers present to offer suggestions for handling student debt. With the pandemic, MOVE events switched to outdoor activities.
Then in 2020, the idea of gift baskets arose. The association sent out 20 baskets to circulate, reimbursing each clinic $100 for supplying the contents as they sent them along. By now, the baskets have gone out to more than 140 clinics, Andrews said.
The baskets include a journal that stays in them as they go. Staffers at each clinic write in them uplifting or inspirational messages — "You've got this!" — and other lighthearted comments, such as suggestions of good TV shows and podcasts.
"Just trying to brighten their day," Ruelle said. "To help them through the dark time of the challenges we're all facing."
Know what else would brighten vets' days? Friendly clients, Ruelle said. Long waits and big bills understandably put pet owners on edge, but vets hope people will keep in mind that they're doing the best they can. Unkind customers "can really dig deep and make people not want to do what they're doing anymore."
The association has campaigned on social media to encourage people "to be kind to veterinarians," Andrews said. "They've experienced a lot that you don't know about."
