On Being a Vet's Wife

The blog this time is from Karen, Dr. Bean's wife.  It's a different perspective on the life of a small town vet.

This was not what I had planned.

It was 9:00PM on New Year’s Eve night and I was holding two pieces of small intestine while my husband was trying to stitch them together.  We were standing on either side of the surgery table over a dog that was on the losing side of a dogfight.  In the background, we could hear our two kids watching a movie in his office (they were ecstatic… a movie and delayed bedtime in the same night!).  My husband, Dr. Bean, had just removed an eighteen inch section of bowel that had been too severely injured.  This type of surgery is called a resection.  The body has an amazing way of healing itself and functioning without the extra length of bowel.  I was helping with the surgery because it was a holiday night and our hardworking staff deserve some time with their families.  I had assisted in surgery several times before and I usually enjoy it.  But, this night was different.

This night, Dr. Bean was reaching the end of the procedure, the only thing left was to stitch the two ends of bowel back together and close the surgery site.  However, he was having trouble with this because his target kept moving.  It was my fault- I no longer had my eyes on the bowel.  He thought boredom had set in and I wasn’t paying attention (it had been a long night and a long surgery).  This was not the case.  I was looking anywhere but down as I tried my best not to pass out and hit the floor.  The edges of my field of vision had begun to darken and I could hear the telltale ringing in my ears.  I was on my way to a full fledged faint, but was too proud to admit it.

At this time, I would like to point out that I don’t have a weak stomach.  I have cleaned up after several dogs and cats plus lived with two kids.  I have helped clean fish and deliver puppies.  I’ve assisted in surgery plenty of times.  However, something about that night and that operation sent me over the edge.

I was able to hold on a little longer.  Thankfully, Dr. Bean had come to a point where I could take a break.  I took the chance to sit on the floor where I could watch the dog’s breathing and monitor the anesthesia machine, all while resting my head on my knees.

He thought this was amusing.  I thought it was humiliating.

This was definitely not what I had planned.  It was not what I had planned for a late New Year’s Eve night.  It was not what we had originally planned for our careers over fifteen years ago when we got married. 

I must say though, that I love our life.  I love having a family business where we can work together and where our kids can visit.  I love that we have built a business that can provide for us and our employees.  I love that we get to work with a great group of folks: our employees and our clients.  I love being part of a small town where complete strangers stop me to tell me that my husband is wonderful.  I do love this.

There are some things about being a vet’s wife that are not so great.  We take separate cars to church in case he gets an emergency call during service.  Family vacations have to be carefully planned away from major holidays, spring break, or summer since we normally have a lot of boarders at those times.  We’ve spent many restless nights with a howling dog or cat in our laundry room at home when my husband was too worried to leave it alone at the clinic overnight.

These are the types of things that we never had to deal with in our previous life.  Twelve years ago, we were both working in an Atlanta suburb.  He was an associate at a small animal clinic, I was a research engineer for a large consumer products company.  The future was mapped out: we would both work our way up with our employers with no significant changes ahead.  Our lives revolved around our careers and fighting traffic and we didn’t mind too much.  We worked our eight to ten hours a day and went home leaving the office behind us.

Then we had our son in 2002 and suddenly hour long commutes were no longer so much fun.  By the time our son was 2, we were looking for a way out.  The idea of owning a practice had not previously appealed to Dr. Bean- the hours are long and the financial risk is high.  But owning a practice would allow us to move back to Alabama, near our families, and keep me at home, at least part-time, with the kids.  We were soon exploring the idea of opening a clinic and building a new life in a small town.

So fast forward to 2012…. we’ve traded the corporate world for the world of small business in a small town.  We no longer have a boss to gripe about; we are the bosses.  We’ve swapped the hour long commutes for school carpooling and walking dogs.  Work now follows us home and sometimes it seems like it’s all we talk about.  And we love it.