I have to be honest: reading the article from AAHA - The Future of Vet Med is Family-Centered brought up a lot of emotion for me. Over the past 20 years, I’ve become increasingly concerned about how our veterinary schools have been training new veterinarians. In an era where malpractice fears dominate and the "gold standard" is pushed to the extreme, many young vets leave school not feeling equipped to actually practice veterinary medicine with the creativity, compassion, and connection that the profession was once built on.
Here’s the thing—schools have taught students that any deviation from the established academic standards could result in a lawsuit. The fear of being sued has become so pervasive that many students are hesitant to perform even routine surgeries. There was a time when I could confidently offer to do a surgery for a pet whose family couldn’t afford a referral, knowing that I was doing the right thing by the family. I didn’t have to be perfect—I just needed to try, gain experience, and offer an alternative for those who couldn’t afford the higher-end options. In fact, I’d often do it at a significantly reduced price, or sometimes even for free, because I knew the value of the human-animal bond and how much it meant to the family.
But try finding a student in the last 20 years who would do that. They’ve been taught to fear failure, to fear stepping outside the prescribed lines. And that’s the first part of what’s been lost in veterinary medicine. We've lost the ability to make bold decisions in the best interest of our clients, to make creative, cost-effective choices when money is tight, and to feel like we’re truly partners in caring for these beloved animals.
What this article made me realize is that it’s not just about the animals—we’ve forgotten the families. Veterinary medicine used to be about the relationships we built with our clients. We knew their kids, we saw them at church, we had conversations beyond the pet. It wasn’t about judging them when they couldn’t afford a treatment plan. It was about working with them. If a family couldn’t afford a surgery, we didn’t turn them away. We found a way to work within their budget, to offer alternatives, and to build trust.
I know I’m generalizing here, but I have to say it: Today, many vets look at a client and say, "I’m sorry, you can’t afford care, I can’t help you." Alternatives are rarely offered, and the creative, resourceful spirit that once made us great has almost vanished. I’ve seen this shift firsthand. We've become more transactional—clients come in, we fix the pet, they pay us, and that's it. There’s little to no time for building a relationship.
There are so many reasons for this change. As a society, we’ve stopped truly connecting. We’re lonelier than ever, even though we’re more "connected" online. Human relationships are becoming more superficial and less meaningful. As veterinary medicine has become more transactional, we’ve naturally cut back on the time we spend with clients. Appointment times have gotten shorter, and the rush to get through as many appointments as possible has replaced the space for real connection. But the truth is, if we don’t get back to the relationship-based model, we risk losing what made us the most trusted profession in the world.
This brings me to the heart of my frustration. How can it be that an article about family-centered veterinary medicine feels like some revolutionary new idea? This used to be our way. We didn’t have to learn it—we lived it. And yet, here we are, in a place where it feels like we need to be reminded of it.
So, how do we get back to this place where we are known for the relationships we build, not just the treatments we provide? I believe it starts with rethinking how we practice medicine. Technology can help, but not in the way you might think.
Yes, it sounds counterintuitive, but I developed our AI note-taking program specifically because I wanted to give veterinarians the tools they need to stop rushing through appointments and start building those relationships again. Some people want to use AI to double the number of patients seen in a day, but that’s not my goal. My goal is to give vets time. Time to talk to clients. Time to get to know them. Time to understand their situation—maybe they just lost their job, or maybe they can’t afford the treatment we recommend. But we can work with them. We can have those important conversations. We can reconnect with the joy of helping people, not just pets.
And yes, I tackled the issue of medical charts, too. Fear of being sued is a huge barrier to doing our best work. It’s paralyzing. But with complete, well-documented charts, you can operate with confidence, knowing that your documentation is airtight. This isn’t about avoiding responsibility—this is about giving you the peace of mind to practice with the creativity, compassion, and flexibility that our profession needs.
The truth is, this article hit me hard because it spoke directly to what I think has gone missing in our profession. Our relationship with clients is the key to our success and trustworthiness. We’ve let it slip away, and now clients are telling us they want it back. We’ve lost our position as the most trusted profession, and visits are down. But there are hospitals out there that are thriving because they’ve figured out that it’s the relationships that matter most.
The future of veterinary medicine? It’s in the family-centered approach that this article champions. And it's time we recognized that we’re in the people business—helping them solve their pet problems, not just treating animals.
I know this is a lot of emotion and passion, but I can’t help it. This issue is important. It’s critical to the future of our profession. And if we don’t start taking a hard look at where we’ve gone wrong, we’ll continue to lose the very thing that made us so beloved and respected in the first place.
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