The Day I Realized I Couldn’t Do It Alone
I thought being a “good doctor” meant doing everything myself. I’d stay late, redo every chart, double-check every record, and jump in on every appointment. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself I was helping my team by “protecting” them from the pressure.
If you’ve ever worked in a veterinary hospital, you know it’s controlled chaos. One minute you’re saving a choking dog, the next you’re cleaning up after a nervous cat, and somewhere in between you’re trying to remember where you left your tea.
Early in my career, I thought being a “good doctor” meant doing everything myself. I’d stay late, redo every chart, double-check every record, and jump in on every appointment. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself I was helping my team by “protecting” them from the pressure.
What I was really doing was wearing myself down — and shutting everyone else out.
Then one day, in the middle of an especially busy day, I noticed a scratch on my arm from a cat I’d examined earlier in the week. I washed it, shrugged it off, and went back to work. Within a few hours, my arm was swollen and red — and by that evening, I was in the ER with cat scratch fever and a blood infection running up my arm.
It was humbling, to say the least. There I was — a veterinarian, usually the one giving the advice — sitting in a hospital gown, being told to rest and let others take care of me.
Meanwhile, back at the clinic, my team kept everything running without missing a beat.
That was the day I realized I couldn’t do this alone.
The Power of Teamwork
It takes a team to save a life, to comfort a client, to calm a frightened pet. It takes a team to notice the small details — the shaking hand, the look in a client’s eyes, the subtle change in a pet’s breathing — that can make all the difference.
Every person in this hospital plays a vital role.
The nurses who anticipate what I need before I even ask.
The CSRs who absorb the emotions of the lobby and somehow stay kind through it all.
The veterinary assistants who cheer and celebrate every new puppy and kitten that comes into the world — like each one is their own.
And the manager who carries the impossible weight of trying to make everyone happy — knowing it’s not always realistic, but giving her all anyway because she cares that much.
It’s all connected. And it all matters.
The Strength in Vulnerability
There’s a quiet truth I had to learn the hard way: strength isn’t pretending you’re invincible. Strength is admitting when you’re overwhelmed and trusting your team enough to catch you when you fall — or, in my case, when your own body decides to humble you.
Vulnerability doesn’t make us weaker. It makes us real. And in a profession that asks us to be strong for everyone else, being real is what keeps us human.
I count on my team to have my back — to make sure everything runs smoothly, to notice the things I don’t, to keep the hospital’s heart beating even when the day gets hard. And I’ve been so lucky in my time as a veterinarian to have both past and present co-workers who know who I am, understand how I work, and walk beside me to help me become a better doctor and a better person.
I can’t express enough how grateful I am for all the teammates I’ve had throughout my career — the ones who still reach out, still cheer me on, and still make me proud to do this work. I’m humbled every day by the people who have made it their mission to make me better.
The Life Lesson — Paying It Forward
The biggest lesson I’ve learned from all of this is simple: when people pour into you, you pour it back.
My wife and I have made it our mission to give back to everyone who has made our journey easier and more successful. To support those who supported us. To help others grow the same way we were lifted up.
This profession has taught me that teamwork isn’t just about sharing tasks — it’s about sharing purpose, faith, and gratitude.
And that’s something I’ll never take for granted.
Because while I may be the one with “DVM” after my name, this hospital’s heart beats because of every single person who walks through its doors ready to care.
– Dr. Jason Harrison, DVM
Tawas Animal Hospital
