A year as a not-quite vet

I almost became a doctor for animals. Here is what that year taught me about the year I chose instead.

For one year, I was going to be a doctor for animals. The same anatomy, the same long mornings, the same caffeine, the same fear of failing. I was good at it. I finished first in my class.

And then I switched. Not because veterinary was wrong, but because medicine was right — patient, and persistent, the way some callings are. The year I spent there taught me something I don’t think I would have learned in human medicine alone: the language of suffering is not really a language. A dog’s pain and a child’s fear use the same alphabet. You don’t always need words to know who needs you.

I carry that year with me. It’s the year that quietly chose me back.