A Profession of Hope

"So have you ever pulled a calf before?" said NC State's new herd manager, Alli.
"No, but I do you mind if I help?" I quickly answered.
"Grab a chain!"

And thus began my dairy career.

Having joined the NC State family only a month prior, I was amazed at how much life experience this young dairy farmer already had accumulated. Unlike myself, she grew up in the dairy world and yet that calf we pulled that morning began a lifetime friendship, despite almost polar opposite upbringings.  There are many lessons I have learned volunteering at NC State's Lake Wheeler Dairy, source of the famous Howling Cow Ice cream.

Keep the Faith (Even when the heifers break down the fence for the 5th time). If there is one great lesson I have learned from working with Alli at the dairy it is that there are many situations that are out of your hands. For example, during thanksgiving of 2013, when most people have stuffed themselves with turkey, I watched Alli chase down the latest escapees in the heifer lot. As much frustration as we had plowing through woods in the freezing cold, watching Iphones hit the ground and tears of exhaustion, one thing that never waned was faith, In farming, some years will bring nothing but disappointment. But there is always next year. And Fences can be rebuilt.

It's all about family. I am not just describing the blood relatives you were born with. Prior to working on this farm, I had no dairy experience. But instead of turning her head or ignoring my sometimes annoying request to help with late night dystocias, Alli and Tyler allowed me to be a small part of their lives. They helped me survive 2 years of veterinary school. I watched them exchange their vows. They helped my fiance propose. They gave me, and many other students a glimpse into the core value of dairy farming: Family is everything, whether or not you are genetically related.

This is a profession of hope. This farm is not a job, it is not where they work, it is not a career – this is their livelihood, this is their dream, and their heart and soul pours into every aspect of it.

It is with a heavy heart but a huge smile, that after 18 months in the land of the pines, Alli and Tyler will be rejoining her home dairy, Davis Brothers Dairy, operated by the Davis Family. Why you ask, would I be happy to have them leave?  As a hopeful future bovine practitioner, there is something special about seeing a a next generation dairy farmer return home to leave their own mark on the industry. They continue to push my own dreams forward, so I can help ensure their children can also return to their farm and to a thriving dairy industry.  It is through my friendship with Alli,Tyler and their families that I found my own passion for dairying. 

I have heard people say many times that you can't make a living dairy farming, but without even hesitating I already know what Alli's response would be...

"Well, doing anything else isn't really living at all."

Be Different.

As I start to finish out my first semester in a graduate school program, I wanted to reflect on how someone whose brain rolls 50 miles a minute, copes such a high stress environment. After my diagnosis, I found relief but I also continue a daily struggle between productivity and commitment. I am not like every other graduate student and wanted to share a piece of my daily thoughts - 

It is a bottomless pit of feeling you're failing, but three days later, you feel you can do anything, only to end the week where you began. It is moments of knowing your pain is self inflicted, followed by blaming the world. It is wanting to listen, but you just can’t anymore because your life has been to full of people that have judged you for your faults. It is fighting to be right; so for once in your life someone will respect and hear you for a change. It is a tiring life of endless mind games, in order to seek stimulus. It is a hyper focus, so intense about what bothers you, that you can’t pay attention to anything else, for very long. It is a never-ending routine of forgetting things. It is a boredom and and excitement. It wears you out. It wears everyone out.

It is speaking and acting without thinking. It is risk taking, thrill seeking and moodiness that
never ends. It is devotion to the gifts and talents you have been given. It is beauty when it has purpose. It is agony when it doesn't.  Living with ADD doesn't make me different, it makes the rest of my world exciting. 

Never Forget Where You Came From: A Look into a City Kid's Rural Medicine Experience

I was born in the big city of Santa Clara, California, located 45 miles southeast of San Francisco, located in the center of Silicon Valley, home to the headquarters of several high-tech companies, Santa Clara University, and the San Francisco 49ers. I moved to the Raleigh/Durham NC area when I was 6 months old, and enjoyed living life in a busy and growing city. I enjoyed it so much, I stayed to finish my undergraduate degree at NC State, as well as continuing to pursue a dual degree program in veterinary medicine and pharmacology. I grew up within 5 miles of a Walmart, 10 miles from 4 major universities, and loved every minute of it. So why, might you ask, would this self proclaimed "city kid" be interested in writing a blog post about large animal veterinary medicine, cows, and my rural medicine experiences? I suppose the pleasure of rural life lies really in the eternally renewed evidence of the determination of the dairymen, farmers, producers and small towns to not only live, but thrive.

Before my enrollment into a veterinary school, I figured I would stay in Chapel Hill, NC, graduate and continue my comfy life within 3 minutes of a grocery store. For 6 years, I worked in an animal clinic, and loved the fast paced turn around of a small animal office. Within a 13 hour shift, I witnessed 3 dental procedures, a spay, 14 wellness appointments + an emergency hit by car. The never ending case load stimulated my love for medicine, for animals and for helping people in what can be their happiest, or sometimes worst moments. 

Amazingly, through several externships in rural areas, I became fascinated by small town life. These are a few memorable lessons from my rural experiences. 

Attica, NY: Population: 10,285. Cows: 100,500.  Cow to People Ratio: 10:1 
It was here I learned the dedication and passion it takes to work side by side with the top producers of milk in NY at Attica Veterinary Associates. The veterinarians I rode with (Shoutout to Dr. Eila Susskind and others!) gave me an new outlook on how successful a dairy rural practice can be and no matter where you hail from, being a part of a small rural community can be an amazing experience. They not only manage emergency DA surgeries, herd health checks, consultations and nutrition, but also salmonella ridden interns. 

Morrison, TN: Population: 619. Cows: 3,687. Cow to People Ratio: 6:1 
Dr. Mandy Willis gave me my first glimpse into the life of a rural practitioner at Middle TN Vet Services. I had never worked a cow in my life before I took a chance and drove 9 hours from downtown Raleigh, NC into what seemed like the middle of nowhere to learn about bovine practice. What I got was so much more than veterinary experience. I spent most of my days in Tennessee working side by side with Dr. Willis on everything from castrations to complicated diagnostic cases. But the medicine, trampling, bruises and escapes from electric fences is not what I found here that solidified my passion for rural practice. It was the community. Dr. Mandy isn't just a veterinarian. She is a volunteer at women's recovery center, a church Sunday school leader, dedicated to her family values and an outstanding mentor to veterinary students. She dedicates her business mission to promoting and preserving animal agriculture as a solo practitioner and practice owner. Since my first visit in 2013, I have returned several times to not only continue learning about large animal practice, but to be welcomed back by a small community of people I call my second family.     

Ironically, rural America has become viewed by a growing number of Americans as having a higher quality of life not because of what it has, but rather because of what it does not have. It is this way of living that has me returning to small rural towns as a continue my studies to become a Doctorate of Veterinary Medicine. I encourage all veterinary students to take a chance. Find an externship in the middle of nowhere with a mentor who loves rural practice. I won't ever forget where I came from, but I hope to end up somewhere where I can continue to make a difference to as many people and animals as possible. There is something about getting up a 4:30 am to help with a dystocia, sunday nights feeding calves with your host family, diagnosing and treating sick livestock and visiting with producers that gives you a lifelong respect for the sheer dedication they put in every single day to feed the world. 

If any veterinary students are interested in learning more about rural veterinary experiences, join the Academy of Rural Veterinarians. They offer internship stipends, mentorship and amazing look into life of a small town vet! 

Superheroes

As odd as it may seem, being a leader does not come naturally to me. In fact, I never thought I would ever be considered a leader in any field, let alone the passion I call my career. Growing up, I always tried to match my twin sister, because lets face it, she had the brains and I had the attention span of a gnat. She could hold a conversation with anyone, and I followed along in the shadow of her brillance, hoping for a small piece of her extrovertism to rub off on my otherwise very timid self. I was perfectly content being the kid who could make others feel better about their own confidence, even if my own suffered for it. 

That’s why the first step out the door of being an introvert is always so hard. As with any huge change in an introverts life, I don't usually adjust as quickly as what I would consider "normal folks." Veterinary school was a drastic change that nearly cost me my life. Within one year, I survived a myocardial infarction, was diagnosed with arrthymias, survived salmonella septecemia and somehow finished my first 2 years of vet school.

Several key people played a role in helping me achieve "3rd year status". Although I need to list several key family members and friends, as part of my last time calling her the "Intern", I would like to give Dr. Nikki Schweizer a huge shoutout on a post tonight. For anybody looking for an "unsung" hero to look up to, Nikki is one of those once in a lifetime mentors. Not only has she completed an academic internship at THE best veterinary school in the nation, but she decided to bring her unmatched passion back to Hickory, NC, where she will be starting her own Mobile Practice (http://www.henryrivermobilevet.com)!

One of my favorite stories with Dr. Nikki doesn't actually involve animals (*gasp*). She didn't know it at the time, but I was ready to leave the vet school after my spring semester, with every intention of finding other passions to pursue besides animals. But Instead of ignoring my somewhat obvious internal conflict, she was always ready to reignite my goals. Whether that be inviting me to help diagnose some blood work, late night cookout runs for the hospital staff, ultrasounding cattle, or even just letting me tag along for much needed "away from school" time at the dairy. Although she may not realize it yet, she changed my life, renewed my passion for veterinary medicine, and proved that not every superhero wears a cape (but Pella Green Coveralls are pretty much a necessity!)

I've learned a lot about goats, sheep, cattle and life as a DVM from her. But the best lesson I received is that heroes are never perfect, but they're brave, they're authentic, they're courageous, determined, and they've got what it takes to make a difference in this world. 

 

What Matters to You?

As an aspiring bovine practitioner, and someone who conducts food animal safety research, I am often asked how big farms are “better” or worse than family farms. My approach to this question, and many other similar misconceptions usually includes: "What matters to you?"

I ask this because I love the blank stare I get as a response. What is more important, I relay to the many different people from diverse walks of life, is what these producers provide. They grow many agricultural products, including raising animals. Every producer and veterinarian I have worked with upholds a high moral standard and does they job and passion with the up most care. We all help provide access to fresh, real food that helps people eat well. Many farms today include multi generational families who continuously work to improve their agricultural practices as well as contribute to a world in dire need of improved food security.

Big or small, what’s the difference? In America, the discussions around food have moved further away from the heart of the matter - growing healthy food - and more toward finding ways to divide us.  Organic vs conventional, GMO vs non-GMO, “factory farm” vs small community farm - at the end of the day, there’s an important place for ALL farming. It might be surprising to know that large family farms (sometimes called “factory farms” by some) often have the most innovative sustainability practices, cutting edge animal care programs and higher regulatory hurdles. Big is not always bad. And small does not always mean inefficient.

Farming is also a family business. Despite common misconceptions, 95 percent of American farms - both large and small - are family-owned and operated. When I talk with my friends who have big and small farms, they are more similar than they are different. Both work to grow food because we want to deliver a healthy, affordable, sustainably-produced option for people. Both worry about planting season, and drought, and early frost. They both are trying to overcome the same challenges.  In order to offer healthy choices for all Americans, we need all types of farms: big and small, organic and conventional, rural and urban. And if being a so-called factory farm supporter means being part of creating healthy food solutions, then I’m all in, every day and twice on Sundays.

Never Forget to Pray

I was at a tie stall barn today, working on a down cow (hypocalcemia aka milk fever aka really hard time standing up) for a 93 year old man, whose family has had this farm for his entire life. Hunched over from obvious years of hard labor, a torn plaid shirt that was probably purchased in the 1920s. The lines of passion and tears were clearly marked on his face. He sat over me in silence, waiting for the bottle of calcium to work its magic in his beloved holstein.

After I finished treating her, the vet went out to the truck to clean up the supplies and check on some other emergency calls we had to accomplish for the day. While absent, I took the time to look around a barn that was over 4x my own age. The broken floor boards on the ceiling, the smell of silage everywhere. But despite the antique look of the place, I could feel the old mans pride and passion brimming off the walls. This is where his grandparents first brought their dairy to back in the late 1800s. There was an untold history here, and I wished I had more than 45 minutes to explore.

As I was saying goodbye to the farmer, his granddaughter ran in from the house, followed by whom I assumed to be his daughter. The little girl asked me if I was a veterinarian. I gently pointed to the vet I have been shadowing for over a week as the one to ask. She looked up, surprised to learn I still had a long way to go to being a vet. And stated "Well I'm going to grow up and save all of the animals, especially the cows for my grandfather, so he can keep milking the cows in heaven." This statement took me by surprise, because usually, I try and avoid conversations that have anything to do with leaving this world.

The grandfather, still leaning on the barn door with a silent but soft demeanor, smiled at me and then his granddaughter. He thanked me for helping him with his cow, without ever explaining what his young granddaughter's comment meant.

He called for her, and they went and sat down in the hay together, while she played in what was obviously a cow pie. As I walked out of the barn with my vet, I heard him tell her "You don't have to save the world. I believe that's already been done." I smiled as I left through the milking parlor. Above the door leaving the barn, I got a quick glimpse of words that this man has lived by for 93 years.

"Never forget to pray."

I am the 4.1%

It has taking me a long time to be able to admit when I need help. Not only am I quite stubborn, but in general, a very leadership focused person.  I cannot count the times I have doubted my abilities, talked about leaving my professional degree program, as well as fallen into a psychological trap of inadequacy. I have ADHD, and I chose to do something about it. 

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 4.1% of the U.S. adult population has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I’m one of that 4.1%; in August, I was diagnosed with ADHD, primarily inattentive. Like most adults diagnosed with ADHD, I had ADHD as a child, but my symptoms did not become problematic until I was under so much stress that my coping mechanisms were no longer sufficient. In my case, that stress was graduate school, and I spent much of my first two years severely impaired. The worst part of it was that to an outside observer, my difficulties looked for all the world like laziness and being too involved, while from the inside, everything felt overwhelming.

The DSM-IV states that for an adult ADHD diagnosis, “There must be clear evidence of significant impairment in social, school, or work functioning.” Before graduate school, I wouldn’t have qualified for a diagnosis, because I didn’t feel impaired. I rejoiced in the strange ways my brain works, the tangential intuitive leaps, the great creativity, and the ability to keep many tasks going at once. Since the symptoms of my iteration of ADHD include issues with self-motivation, lack of focus, and difficulty working in advance, graduate school made it feel less like an adventure and more like a serious disability. 

I often lose my train of thought with my research and school work entirely, taking a full week to complete tasks that I know should have taken a few hours at most. The feeling of inadequacy when compared to student who could do productive work 12-15 hours a day was punishing, as was my negative self-talk about my lack of productivity. I intellectually knew I was intelligent, but when I couldn’t focus, when I was doing poorly in my classes, when I was falling behind ... I always felt like I wasn’t smart enough, and that I never could be smart enough. 

In retrospect, it was not only my ADHD that was causing the chaos in my life over the past two years. My version of ADHD has performance-related anxiety along with it, and when my ADHD caused me to perform poorly in school, my anxiety would act up, which would make it even harder for me to focus, which would make the anxiety worse, and eventually I’d lose the ability to do anything but curl up on the couch, not drink the cup of tea next to me, and stare at the internet. Veterinary school made this cycle escalate to a whole new level. Since this was keeping me from pursuing the science career I’d dreamed about since I was 10, I developed depressive symptoms. I didn’t notice until later, but I stopped enjoying things. I’d stopped running half marathons, and I didn’t listen to music muchtalk with my family. I didn’t find volunteering enjoyable. I didn’t feel like socializing, or making new friends, or really much of anything.

Having my official diagnosis helped a lot. Once I realized that this disorder was no longer a hindrence but a blessing in disguise, I fully began to grasp the benefits of having a wide open train of though. After starting treatment during my first year in a veterinary curriculum, the first improvement I noticed was that I could filter out background noise. The pervasive brain fog that had plagued me for months lifted almost immediately. I could focus on things when I wanted or needed to, and I could just as easily stop focusing on them. 

Although I have experienced a great improvement during treatment, I have some nervousness related to talking about our ADHD to specific people. From classmates to friends, I generally do not advertise that I needed help. And for the most part, have never felt the need to draw attention to myself. I will now gladly speak openley about this hardship in my life, and try and get people to understand my point of view. It is not laziness to the infamous "college student trying to get ahead." Unlike most professional DVM students, I merely want to survive and advance, and maybe make a difference to someone along the way. 

ADHD is a real disorder that can cause significant amounts of distress and impairment in everyday life. It is not an excuse for laziness; it’s a difference in the brain. Adult ADHD is often not obvious because the public concept of the disorder is that ADHD is for small, hyper children, not intelligent adult graduate students who suddenly can’t cope with their workload. Furthermore, ADHD isn’t a state of being “abnormal.” I vastly prefer to say that I’m not neurotypical. Being typical is fine for some things, but when you’re working on difficult creative problems, like finding new and innovative research ideas, having typical thought processes can be a detriment. The way my brain works might not be common, average, or pedestrian, but when it works with me instead of against me, it’s a powerful advantage.