The lyrics to the 1991 country music classic by Garth Brooks go, “Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers.” That line sums up this edition of Life in the Trenches — my last one. Just the other day, at lunch with seven of my 70-year-old undergrad college chums, I silently compared my life to theirs. The contrast was stark. While we are all richly blessed, I reached my destination differently. I always thought I wanted what they had: a storybook marriage to a great guy, a family who supported me, and a life of hobbies, travel and activities. While that lovely idea was my vision of the American dream as a 1970s sorority girl, it never panned out for me. Instead, I set out on a journey that resulted in unexpected, solid bonds with many incredible animals, a veterinary family who supports me and a passion for my colorful, action-packed life.
If I had married a guy with a promising, white-collar profession, I never would have followed my heart to a livestock auction and bought a Vietnamese potbellied piglet named Marshall. And Marshall never would have resided in my house. He and I were tight-knit, and he inspired me to apply to veterinary school, which I entered at age 40.
By then, I was flying solo. I sold my home, took out a sizeable student loan and rented a mobile home on an acre lot outside Stillwater, Oklahoma, where I lived with my house pig, dogs and cats. I never moved back to town again.
Student Life
Transitioning from a successful journalism career to humble student was rough. No one at veterinary school seemed to care that I had interviewed bank presidents and the governor and had covered the Oklahoma Legislature. I did not have an aptitude for science, and it felt like I was eking out knowledge that those around me possessed naturally. I had good friends, but as an older student, I sometimes felt outside the loop.
I always had a job. During the school year, I worked part time as a kennel attendant in the veterinary teaching hospital. In the summertime, I was on the barn crew at the food animal side of the hospital. The jobs were treasure chests full of lessons about the essential role of animal husbandry, the value of hardworking people regardless of pay grade and the satisfaction of taking care of animals.
When graduation came around, I rolled the dice and aimed for a career in swine production medicine. Attending the annual convention of the American Association of Swine Practitioners (now Veterinarians) in St. Louis, I gathered contacts’ names and began cold-calling to apply for jobs. One recipient of my overtures bluntly told me he wouldn’t hire me because I didn’t have production experience. Undeterred, I drove to a swine farm in the Oklahoma Panhandle and applied for a production job. The manager was kind but explained that the employer’s biosecurity rules forbade him from hiring someone who owned outside swine.
I called the swine veterinarian I had worked for as a student and asked for advice. Dr. Phil Richardson operated a production unit in Minco, Oklahoma, for a large company, and I had done an elective course with him. He knew I had a pet pig, but it didn’t matter to him, and he had a job opening. So, I loaded up my truck and headed into my next episode.
Farm Life
Top Farm was another rich experience for a city girl who longed to be a country girl. Every morning, I walked down row upon row of vocal sows awaiting grain in their troughs and checked on the water and equipment. I castrated piglets, tattooed ears, blood-tested pigs and synchronized farrowing. I weaned and sorted pigs and cleaned farrowing crates with a pressure washer.
While I had a good relationship with Dr. Richardson, the other women on the staff resented me and were stingy with their support and advice. Maybe they didn’t understand that I knew they could teach me what my veterinary education did not. At one point, I became so discouraged that I applied for and was hired for a reporting job at my old newspaper in Oklahoma City. I gave Dr. Richardson two weeks’ notice.
That weekend, when I was caring for the sows, my heart told me I could not leave it all behind. So, I unresigned and stayed at Top Farm.
And I learned there is more to veterinary medicine than keeping animals alive until they are slaughtered.
Companion Animal Life
I detoured to companion animal medicine and my first job at Marina Animal Clinic in Tulsa. Driving there on my first day, I kept thinking ruefully, “I was going to be a swine veterinarian.”
In 2000, Marina was open until 10 p.m. and employed 10 veterinarians. Clients stacked the waiting room wall to wall, waiting to see a doctor. We always had three veterinarians seeing clients. It was an eye-opener.
The veteran veterinarians welcomed me and blazed a trail. If I didn’t know what to do, I’d imagine what I would do if I were Dr. Haggerty, Dr. Wallis, Dr. Campbell or Dr. Thomas. They were generous with their knowledge and skills and always had my back.
One memorable day, a client became upset with me because I wanted to take her little dog’s temperature before vaccinating it. She asked to see another veterinarian, preferably Dr. Wallis. I was crushed and left the exam room in tears. Dr. Wallis was in surgery, but Dr. Slater stepped in. She later told me the client complained that Dr. Wallis never needed to take her dog’s temperature. Dr. Slater shut down the owner by saying Dr. Wallis must not have performed a thorough physical exam. You don’t forget people like that.
Whether they were my veterinary school advisers or colleague veterinarians, they became my support network through shared experiences of medicine, a richer and deeper world than I formerly knew.
Coming Full Circle
My profession and the people in it have sustained me through hard times. Amid a nadir, I looked up at my framed veterinary license on the wall and appreciated afresh the signatures of the veterinary board members who signed off on the document. It was my rock that day, reminding me I am supported by an exquisite profession and a host of veterinarians who will always have my back.
After working at five other places, I returned to Marina in 2018 and celebrated my 70th birthday this past November. I finally paid off my student loan the year before.
When you listen to your heart and tune out the rest, you will be awestruck by what life becomes. One moment, you are walking on a ledge, and then you reach the mountain peak, whatever it means to you.
I thank God for all my unanswered prayers because they led me to the greatest profession in the world and the truest friends anyone could ask for.
EDITOR’S NOTE
This is Dr. Lou Anne Wolfe’s last Life in the Trenches article. Read all her reports, dating to 2022, at go.navc.com/trenches-TVB.