Life as a Vet Student- your Vet School "family"

By Erica Burkland

 Cornell University

On May 9, 2011, with only one week and a rigorous two-day final exam remaining in my first year of vet school, I watched my beloved gelding sustain a catastrophic femoral fracture. One minute Calypso was cantering from one end of the paddock to the other as the sun began to set on the crisp spring evening, and the next he was laterally recumbent in the grass. The moment I saw his left hind leg crumble from beneath him midstride, before his 1450-pound body had even finished hitting the ground, I knew he would never get up again. I knew I would have to say goodbye to my best friend before the sun finished setting.        

The hour between that gut-wrenching moment and Calypso drawing his last breath is a blur. After my veterinarian, the first person I called after Calypso went down was Kaylan, a friend and classmate of mine. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do this alone. She left her post in the library and rushed to the barn to be with me during Calypso’s final moments. By the time the veterinarian arrived, Calypso and I were surrounded by a small army of people, most of whom I knew barely or not at all. It didn’t take long for my veterinarian to determine that Calypso’s left femur was fractured beyond repair. Kaylan knelt beside me in the dirt at Calypso’s head as he was euthanized; just as quickly as he had collapsed less than an hour earlier, he was gone for good. Distraught, I said my final goodbyes and left with Kaylan, clutching Calypso’s muddy halter to my chest. By then the sun was long gone behind the horizon. 

In the wake of such an unexpected and profound loss, I could hardly begin to imagine how I would make it through final exams. Fortunately by that time in the school year, my circle of close friends had been firmly established, and it was this makeshift family that pulled me through the unbearably painful weeks that followed. The night Calypso was euthanized, they flocked to my apartment and sat with me as I sobbed through phone calls to all the people who knew and loved Calypso as I did – my parents, the girls back at home that I grew up riding with, and my trainer of fifteen years. Despite having 8am class the next day, my friends stayed until the early hours of the morning, until there was nothing left for me to do but attempt to sleep. Although most of them had only met Calypso once or twice, they knew how much I loved him and what a huge part of my life he had been. They knew that I had made time to see him every single day during my first year of vet school, even on days when there was a foot of snow on the ground and nights when I didn’t leave campus until 11pm. They knew that I had been juggling two part-time jobs on top of vet school so that I could afford to keep him on a student’s budget. They knew that I had often missed out on extracurricular and social activities during our first year because Calypso was always my first priority. They knew, perhaps better than I did initially, that losing him would be harder than anything I had experienced before.

During the first week after losing Calypso, my vet school family surrounded me with love and support, making themselves available at all hours of the day and night despite being in the throes of finals week. When all I wanted to do was lay in bed, they took me out to lunch to drink margaritas and celebrate my once-in-a-lifetime horse. When all the “studying” I could manage on my own consisted of staring blankly at my computer screen scrolling through seven years’ worth of photos of my life with Calypso, they helped me prepare for our final by laboriously reviewing material out loud as a group. When I couldn’t sleep, they took me on late night drives to the banks of Cayuga Lake, where we sat on swings beneath the moonlight and they held me as I cried. When I repeatedly second-guessed my decision to put Calypso down, they assured me that I had made the kindest, most selfless choice I could have. When I wanted to give up, they promised me that it would get better with time and that they would be there with me every step of the way. 

Now I’m beginning my second year of vet school, and Calypso has been gone for almost four months. Although life without him has gotten easier, I still miss him every day. My friends recently surprised me with a bracelet that they had custom made from a lock of Calypso’s tail; I’ve worn it every day since. Not only do I find peace in always having a part of him with me, but it also serves as a reminder of how fortunate I am to have found an incredible new family that will always be there for me.