Reflections of a Veterinary
Medical Student: Embracing Your Inner Disaster Junkie
Nadia Stegeman DVM, MPH
It all started in the spring of 2005
when a good friend of mine (another DVM/MPH student) procured the
brilliant idea of attending an animal disaster relief course the weekend
before a series of final exams in our first year of veterinary school.
We had both independently been politely rejected by our local VMAT team
so finding a group that would welcome us was a new and exciting
prospect. Being a lover of procrastination and game for adventure, I
heeded the call of the sirens and signed up.
Fast forward six months. We had
established ourselves as proud members of the national team, Noah’s
Wish, and the burgeoning local team, CMDART, just in time to join the
team rosters before storm season, and the advent of Hurricane Katrina.
With luck and some persuasive arguments with professors and school
administrators, we were given permission to deploy with Noah’s Wish to
Slidell, LA. After 10 days in September and another 10 days in November
caring for over 1,000 animals at a time, we were plunged into the world
of disaster medicine. Due to the fluid nature of laws often prohibit
out-of-state veterinarians from practicing in disaster response, we
found ourselves to be the closest thing to doctors our shelter had
access to for the vast majority of the day.
We immersed into the medical care of
animals ranging from scorpions to turkeys to rabbits and everything in
between. It proved both challenging and enthralling, yet we endured
under the guidance of “Dr. Plumb” and “Dr. Merck”, our playful allusion
to the veterinary reference texts we had in the shelter. To this day I
think there remains an earmark on the page offering treatment options
for canine diarrhea in the Merck Manual.
Returning to our humdrum lives in
Massachusetts after serving in Katrina seemed a bit dull. Joining a
grassroots local disaster team seemed to help maintain a sense of
connectedness with the disaster community. The organized chaos of
CMDART’s annual drill brought back fond memories of the challenges of
Katrina. Given time to digest our experiences, it became clear that our
participation in disaster response had become an integral part of our
education.
All too often it seems that
professional school swallows up not only the academic self, but the
entire identity of a person. With constant pressures of “making the
grade” that every competitive student faces, it seems that the
individual often succumbs to the fallacy of equating their professional
success or worse yet their self-worth with their GPA. In lieu of
accepting this suboptimal fate, actively partaking in community service
seems to, for me at least, alleviate some of those concerns.
It became clear, relatively early
on, that my disaster friend and I were the only veterinary-types at
CMDART. Initially, this was a scary prospect. Who would be there to
validate my comments as being representative of my professional field?
Eventually, this trepidation led to a fantastic catharsis. We DID have
something to contribute to the team. Our thoughts and experiences were
important. Our backgrounds were unique and what we said mattered. For
a veterinary student, this was a new paradigm.
It has been three years since I
joined CMDART. Through disaster networks I’ve met fascinating
individuals I otherwise would have never encountered. I’ve learned
about politics, fatigue, and true priorities in life. I’ve seen the
importance of mutual respect and teamwork, especially in times of
disaster. I’ve witnessed how encouragement can make an ephemeral
thought blossom into a year long multi-thousand dollar grant. Finally,
I’ve experienced the rewards of giving back to my community.
For veterinary and non-veterinary
types alike, I urge you to take a look around your town. Note the
sights that bother you and find a way to be an agent of change. Be it
disaster preparedness and response or another equally worthy cause, know
that you, as an individual, can make a difference. Rather than
passively accepting the injustices of life, become the catalyst of
action. In the words of John Holcomb, “You must get involved to have an
impact. No one is impressed with the won-lost record of the referee.”
