Translator: Laurelle Walsh
Reviewer: Sophie Anderson I have the best job,
but it can also be the hardest job. I'm a veterinarian,
which means that throughout my life, my sole focus has always
revolved around the health of this: your pet, from birth
through puppy and kittenhood, and into adolescence; through that face-licking
and shoe-chewing phase, where it is always the most expensive
pair that gets damaged; past the gaining of wisdom, like why eating dead things
washed up on the beach really isn't the smartest idea
they have ever had; and into the years of quietening, where the point of life suddenly becomes how successfully they can lie
directly under foot as you move about the kitchen. Now, I always knew I cared
about the health of your pet. However, quite soon after graduation, I realized that I also
really cared about this: I cared about the details of your life, the new baby, the broken arm at soccer,
the promotion at work. I cared about the fact that your pet
was a part of your family. And this is why I know that at some point, you are going to need
a veterinarian like me. I'm what is called
a palliative care veterinarian, which means I deal
with the health of your pet during the end-of-life stages. This is the point where
you may have been given a terminal diagnosis for your pet, or where you have recognized
that your pet is now struggling, and where the cumulative impacts
of chronic illness and age-related changes
begin to affect happiness. In Australia,
veterinarians that specialize in this kind of care are not commonplace. But it is a statistic
that I am determined to change, because I see
the benefits of it every day. As our pets become
more a part of our lives than ever, as we continue to help them live longer
through great preventative care, I believe we need to be better prepared
for end-of-life discussions. And I get it; in this situation
the emotions are always devastating. But the process does not have to be, which is why I have decided
to start my own palliative care practice. At its heart, palliative medicine
is about delivering the most compassionate care we can. It is care which is focused
on quality of life, and what that means, not based on numbers or statistics,
but for your individual pet. It is about ensuring that we are
adequately managing their pain, and the progression of their condition. It is about preparing you
for what is to come, so that we lessen the fear that may prevent you
from making good decisions. In its end stages, for my profession, palliative care is also
about helping families say a gentle goodbye. Over recent years,
we have seen dramatic changes in the standards of care
that vets can now deliver. And people are often surprised when they hear that almost all
of the treatment options that would be available for you,
are also available for your pets. Veterinary hospitals and specialty centers are often state of the art,
and they do amazing work. But ultimately, just as we have seen
in the human health world, hospitals are designed
for the management of treatable disease. They are not always the right place
for us to deliver comfort, or to say goodbye to those we love. So I am redesigning the script
for pets, and for owners, during this difficult time. I want you to meet Turbo. Turbo was a champ. This superstar absolutely rocked
the world that he lived in. He was one of those special souls that makes the world a better place
just by being in it. At the age of five,
he was diagnosed with kidney failure. But despite the poor prognosis, his family wanted to do
everything that they could to ensure that his last days
were some of his best days. So we addressed his nausea,
his dehydration, and his underlying infections, and this superstar
began to get his groove back. Over the months that followed, Turbo received daily,
supported home care from his family, and fortnightly visits from me. He visited his regular vets
for monitoring of his kidney function, and with his support team on board,
he got on with living. He went boating and fishing. He rode shotgun in the truck with dad. And during the period of his illness, Turbo brought his entire extended family
back together again, by demanding that they attend
regular backyard campouts in his honor. In September, last year, when it became clear
that it was time to let him go, we planned a peaceful goodbye
underneath his favorite tree. And there was no stress,
no fear, only sadness, which was lessened, somewhat, by knowing that he had received
the best of care, right up until the very end. So let's talk about how we implement the ideals of palliative
care for our pets. Firstly, we need to be
more comprehensive in our care. And I am not talking
just about the medicine, because chances are
your vet is already doing that. But when a family approaches us
after receiving a terminal diagnosis, we will also ask them whether they have thought
about a photography session, to help them treasure the moments
that they still have with their pet. Sometimes we will talk about bucket lists. For a pet, I know it sounds crazy,
but it is about joy, and life, and living,
in the midst of all of that loss. We understand that grief
can be overwhelming, so we have a registered
psychologist on staff, who can help our clients through. And if talking isn't their thing, we have a library of books
that we loan out, some for kids, some for adults,
to help them learn about loss, and cope better
with the weight of their grief. We need to be more personable. Our patients cannot speak,
but there is so much that we can learn from heart-felt conversation
with an owner. And it takes a little extra time,
but I promise you, it absolutely improves patient outcomes. And we need to know
about that pet's individual personality, because it will greatly impact
the choices we will make for them. And if the process of actually medicating
is damaging the pet-owner relationship, we need to stop, rethink it,
and come up with a better plan. We need to be brave. I first have that conversation about
how our treatment plan has now evolved, to comfort beyond a cure. Then I dispense that extra pain relief,
because in that pet's life, if my actions today will make
their tomorrow a little better, then that is absolutely an action
that I am going to take. Where possible, we need to offer
more mobile services. I know that this is a challenge
for many vets in practice, but the benefits of home care
are extensive. I want families to be intricately involved
in any care decisions we make, and I want to see
that they are comfortable delivering the treatment options
that I prescribe. Most importantly, I know how hard
that last day will be, and for the families I visit,
being at home as we say goodbye makes everything just a little easier. So pet owners,
if this applies to you right now, ask your vet about your options
for a palliative care plan. My fellow vets, be open
to these conversations, because palliative care
is insurance against suffering. It allows families
to focus on what is important. And whilst we know that the loss of a friend
is always devastating, it is time to rethink
the way in which we help them go. Thank you. (Applause)
