But I digress. Iâm not a Believer. But that doesnât mean I donât have my own holy places. Not places of worship. Just places I believe are sacred, for lack of any equivalent word in the dictionary of the non-religious. There are places that deserve our respect and demand a moment of reflection. They might be places of great beauty, or great tragedy, or places of history in which a momentous decision turned the tide of human events. I doubt I really have to explain further than this to anyone reading this. If you have the key through this door, you already have your own holy places, and you already know the difficulty of finding the words to explain why these places move you. Explanation is unnecessary. All that is called for is awareness, and respect.
I work in a holy place. Most days, I think I am the only one who sees this. I understand why that has to be, but it frustrates me. To do the work my employer requires virtually demands that you turn off certain centers of empathy within your soul. With enough practice, people become good at turning off the empathy. Sometimes they get so good at it they have a hard time finding the on switch again. There are days I envy that.
I work in a holy place. I watch over the deaths of thousands each day. These are deaths that serve a greater good. I believe this, or I could not work there. To paraphrase one of my personal heroines, Temple Grandin, âLook at it this way. We see to it they live a good life. They get good housing, free from the fear of predators. They get healthy food, and free medical care. They have servants to take care of their every need. Then, at the end of it, they get gathered up with all of their friends, and go for a ride through the country. The get to see new sights, smell new smells, and spend time in a friendly new environment. At the end of this, they wait in line, get to go on a ride, and then they have no idea what hit them. My life should end so well.â Thatâs the greater good I serve.
I work in a holy place. Over nine thousand creatures a day depend on me to ensure that they take a nice ride, enjoy the fresh air, get good and humane living conditions, and then die with no idea what hit them. I add those numbers up, more often than is probably healthy. Nine thousand a day. Forty-five thousand a week. One-hundred and ninety-eight thousand a month, give or take. About two million three hundred and forty thousand a year. Those are the deaths I oversee. In a week, I will have been at my job for eight years. You do the math.
I work in a holy place. Yesterday, at the end of the day, I was walking through the empty building. The workers had already left the building. The carcasses â living, breathing creatures only hours previously â were in a refrigerator, waiting for Monday. When Monday comes, the protein they represent begins its journey back into the circle of life. It will become parts from the whole, not easily recognizable to the millions who will purchase them and take them home to their own kitchens. They will undergo reincarnation, and become human, at least for a little while. Some may become dog, or cat. Some will take a circuitous route, and become pastry or sausage or cosmetics or even life-saving drugs. Some will take an even more circuitous route, and become fertilizer for corn and wheat, and re-enter the Great Wheel as anything from a loaf of bread to a bit of earthworm. The possibilities are dazzling. Itâs what death is all about.
I work in a holy place, and yesterday I stood there in the vast emptiness of inactivity. Day crew was gone. Sanitation had not yet arrived to clean-up the vestiges of the day. I stood in the aftermath of my job, and I reflected. The Believers may have said a prayer, or recited a Psalm. I have my own version. I took an oath on May 19, 1998. I believed in that oath when I took it. I try to remind myself of it often.
Being admitted to the profession of veterinary medicine, I solemnly swear to use my scientific knowledge and skills for the benefit of society through the protection of animal health, the relief of animal suffering, the conservation of animal resources, the promotion of public health, and the advancement of medical knowledge.I will practice my profession conscientiously, with dignity, and in keeping with the principles of veterinary medical ethics.
I accept as a lifelong obligation the continual improvement of my professional knowledge and competence.
It may not be a prayer, but it is a reaffirmation of my core beliefs. Some nights, I think that is enough.
Other nights, I have nightmares.