Translator: Laurelle Walsh Reviewer: Sophie Anderson
I have the best job, but it can also be the hardest job.
I'm a veterinarian, which means that throughout my life,
my sole focus has always revolved around the health of this:
your pet, from birth through puppy and kittenhood,
and into adolescence;
through that face-licking and shoe-chewing phase,
where it is always the most expensive pair that gets damaged;
past the gaining of wisdom,
like why eating dead things washed up on the beach
really isn't the smartest idea they have ever had;
and into the years of quietening,
where the point of life suddenly becomes
how successfully they can lie directly under foot
as you move about the kitchen.
Now, I always knew I cared about the health of your pet.
However, quite soon after graduation,
I realized that I also really cared about this:
I cared about the details of your life,
the new baby, the broken arm at soccer, the promotion at work.
I cared about the fact that your pet was a part of your family.
And this is why I know that at some point,
you are going to need a veterinarian like me.
I'm what is called a palliative care veterinarian,
which means I deal with the health of your pet
during the end-of-life stages.
This is the point where you may have been given
a terminal diagnosis for your pet,
or where you have recognized that your pet is now struggling,
and where the cumulative impacts of chronic illness
and age-related changes begin to affect happiness.
In Australia, veterinarians that specialize
in this kind of care are not commonplace.
But it is a statistic that I am determined to change,
because I see the benefits of it every day.
As our pets become more a part of our lives than ever,
as we continue to help them live longer through great preventative care,
I believe we need to be better prepared for end-of-life discussions.
And I get it; in this situation the emotions are always devastating.
But the process does not have to be,
which is why I have decided to start my own palliative care practice.
At its heart, palliative medicine is about delivering
the most compassionate care we can.
It is care which is focused on quality of life, and what that means,
not based on numbers or statistics, but for your individual pet.
It is about ensuring that we are adequately managing their pain,
and the progression of their condition.
It is about preparing you for what is to come,
so that we lessen the fear
that may prevent you from making good decisions.
In its end stages, for my profession,
palliative care is also about helping families
say a gentle goodbye.
Over recent years, we have seen dramatic changes
in the standards of care that vets can now deliver.
And people are often surprised
when they hear that almost all of the treatment options
that would be available for you, are also available for your pets.
Veterinary hospitals and specialty centers
are often state of the art, and they do amazing work.
But ultimately, just as we have seen in the human health world,
hospitals are designed for the management of treatable disease.
They are not always the right place for us to deliver comfort,
or to say goodbye to those we love.
So I am redesigning the script for pets, and for owners,
during this difficult time.
I want you to meet Turbo.
Turbo was a champ.
This superstar absolutely rocked the world that he lived in.
He was one of those special souls
that makes the world a better place just by being in it.
At the age of five, he was diagnosed with kidney failure.
But despite the poor prognosis,
his family wanted to do everything that they could
to ensure that his last days were some of his best days.
So we addressed his nausea, his dehydration,
and his underlying infections,
and this superstar began to get his groove back.
Over the months that followed,
Turbo received daily, supported home care from his family,
and fortnightly visits from me.
He visited his regular vets for monitoring of his kidney function,
and with his support team on board, he got on with living.
He went boating and fishing.
He rode shotgun in the truck with dad.
And during the period of his illness,
Turbo brought his entire extended family back together again,
by demanding that they attend regular backyard campouts in his honor.
In September, last year,
when it became clear that it was time to let him go,
we planned a peaceful goodbye underneath his favorite tree.
And there was no stress, no fear, only sadness,
which was lessened, somewhat,
by knowing that he had received the best of care,
right up until the very end.
So let's talk about how we implement
the ideals of palliative care for our pets.
Firstly, we need to be more comprehensive in our care.
And I am not talking just about the medicine,
because chances are your vet is already doing that.
But when a family approaches us after receiving a terminal diagnosis,
we will also ask them
whether they have thought about a photography session,
to help them treasure the moments that they still have with their pet.
Sometimes we will talk about bucket lists.
For a pet, I know it sounds crazy, but it is about joy,
and life, and living, in the midst of all of that loss.
We understand that grief can be overwhelming,
so we have a registered psychologist on staff,
who can help our clients through.
And if talking isn't their thing,
we have a library of books that we loan out,
some for kids, some for adults, to help them learn about loss,
and cope better with the weight of their grief.
We need to be more personable.
Our patients cannot speak, but there is so much that we can learn
from heart-felt conversation with an owner.
And it takes a little extra time, but I promise you,
it absolutely improves patient outcomes.
And we need to know about that pet's individual personality,
because it will greatly impact the choices we will make for them.
And if the process of actually medicating is damaging the pet-owner relationship,
we need to stop, rethink it, and come up with a better plan.
We need to be brave.
I first have that conversation about how our treatment plan has now evolved,
to comfort beyond a cure.
Then I dispense that extra pain relief, because in that pet's life,
if my actions today will make their tomorrow a little better,
then that is absolutely an action that I am going to take.
Where possible, we need to offer more mobile services.
I know that this is a challenge for many vets in practice,
but the benefits of home care are extensive.
I want families to be intricately involved in any care decisions we make,
and I want to see that they are comfortable
delivering the treatment options that I prescribe.
Most importantly, I know how hard that last day will be,
and for the families I visit, being at home as we say goodbye
makes everything just a little easier.
So pet owners, if this applies to you right now,
ask your vet about your options for a palliative care plan.
My fellow vets, be open to these conversations,
because palliative care is insurance against suffering.
It allows families to focus on what is important.
And whilst we know
that the loss of a friend is always devastating,
it is time to rethink the way in which we help them go.
Thank you.
(Applause)