Behind every tired smile is a veterinarian who hasn’t slept well in days.
Who skipped lunch again because a dog crashed on the table.
Who kept their voice steady while telling a child that their best friend didn’t make it.
Who nodded kindly to a client while quietly drowning inside.
They wear the lab coat like armor.
But no one sees the battle wounds underneath.
In this profession — noble, selfless, and often thankless — there’s a hidden epidemic.
Not of viruses or bacteria, but of silent suffering.
Of a heart slowly breaking under the weight of compassion.
Veterinarians are trained to be strong. To fix. To save.
But they are rarely trained to grieve. Or rest. Or admit, “I’m not okay.”
Because who checks on the vet after a euthanasia?
Who comforts them when they sob in their car after hours?
Who holds space for their guilt when they think, “Did I do enough?”
You see, the world claps for doctors who save lives —
But often forgets the ones who have to end them, gently.
They carry it all: the midnight calls, the angry clients, the dying pets, the debt, the doubt, the deep ache of never quite being enough — no matter how hard they try.
In the Philippines, many vets serve far-flung barangays with outdated tools and bare clinics.
They drive hours through floods and traffic, only to earn just enough for gas and groceries.
Yet they still show up. Because it’s not just a job — it’s a promise.
A promise to the voiceless.
To animals who cannot say where it hurts.
To fur babies who trust them completely — even in their final breath.
But sometimes, the vet gets tired too.
Sometimes, they lie awake at night with racing thoughts and a heavy chest.
Sometimes, they wonder if the world would notice if they just disappeared.
And that’s what breaks me.
Because these are the same people who cry when your dog wags its tail again.
Who light up when your cat starts eating.
Who smile wide when a puppy born limp takes its first steps.
And yet…
They are the ones holding back tears, afraid to ask for help.
They’re the ones saying “I’m okay” — when they aren’t.
So if you know a vet, hug them.
Thank them — not just for their skill, but for their heart.
Remind them that it’s okay to rest.
To not always be the strong one.
Because behind every tired smile is a soul who chose to care,
Even when it hurt.
Even when it broke them.
Even when no one saw.
And that…
That is the kind of quiet courage this world does not deserve,
But so desperately needs.
To every veterinarian out there silently fighting — we see you.
We thank you. Please don’t carry this alone.
Dr. Geoff Carullo is a Fellow and the current President of the Philippine College of Canine Practitioners.
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