Ali Heywood is an RVN with over 25 years’ experience in education leadership, and quality assurance. She is passionate about shaping the future of veterinary nursing through quality education, compassionate leadership, and ensuring that the women in our profession can enjoy long, fulfilling, and sustainable careers.
Ali will be writing a series of blogs throughout 2026 linking to the BVNA Presidential theme of compassion and empathy. Check out Ali’s previous three blogs here for the series so far.
Coping quietly is not the same as resilience
There is an unspoken rule in veterinary nursing that being good at the job means coping quietly.
We admire resilience. We praise adaptability. We value people who push through. Over time, this has blurred into something more uncomfortable: the idea that asking for help is a weakness, and that taking time off when we are ill is something to feel guilty about.
The “lone hero” narrative is seductive. It rewards independence and endurance, but it also discourages honesty. In a profession built on care, that should give us pause. Veterinary nursing has never been a solo endeavour, and it was never meant to be.
Asking for help is professional judgement, not failure
Asking for help is often framed as not coping. In reality, it is more often a sign that someone understands the limits of their capacity and the complexity of the work they are doing.
Safe veterinary nursing relies on shared judgement. Second opinions, handovers, quiet check-ins, and moments of “can you look at this with me?” are part of everyday good practice. Research across healthcare consistently shows that cultures which discourage help-seeking are associated with higher stress and burnout, while environments that normalise support are linked to improved wellbeing and performance.¹
When help feels risky, people wait too long. Work becomes heavier, decisions lonelier, and the margin for error narrows. That is not strength. It is unnecessary isolation.
Sickness, guilt, and what the data can hide
Veterinary nursing is a profession where sickness guilt is particularly common. There is often a sense that being unwell inconveniences colleagues, lets the team down, or signals a lack of commitment.
I became particularly aware of this when I reviewed sickness absence data for my own team at Dick White Academy. On average, we recorded just 0.6 days of sickness per person across the year. In education, the average figure is closer to seven days per person annually.
I remember feeling conflicted. One response would have been to congratulate ourselves on an impressive statistic. Instead, I paused. Was this genuinely a sign of excellent wellbeing, or a quieter indication that people were pushing through when they should not have been?
Working while unwell is not a moral achievement. Fatigue, illness, and emotional strain affect concentration, judgement, and decision-making. Recent veterinary nursing research highlights the risks associated with inadequate recovery, particularly in emotionally demanding roles, where cumulative fatigue can undermine both wellbeing and patient safety.³
Support systems in real life
Support systems are rarely dramatic. More often, they are ordinary, relational, and woven into daily practice.
They look like someone noticing before someone asks. They look like permission to go home without explanation or apology. They look like mentoring that says, “you don’t have to work this out on your own.”
Recent research on organisational compassion shows that teams with embedded support systems experience lower burnout and better functioning than those that rely on individual endurance alone. Compassionate workplace cultures are also increasingly recognised as contributors to patient safety, not just staff wellbeing.⁴,⁵
At a recent training day, we made space to talk openly about illness, guilt, and the pressure to keep going. We talked about it being acceptable to be unwell, to rest, and to recover without apology. Not as an operational problem to be managed, but as a cultural one to be acknowledged.
Redefining strength
Professionalism in veterinary nursing has never meant doing everything alone. It has meant knowing when to step forward, when to step back, and when to lean on others.
Support systems are not indulgent. They are protective. They allow people to stay in the profession without burning out or hardening, and they help teams deliver consistent, compassionate care.
If we want sustainable veterinary nursing, we need to stop celebrating silent endurance and start normalising interdependence. Asking for help is not weakness. Taking time off when ill is not failure.
They are signs of judgement, responsibility, and care-for ourselves, for each other, and for the patients who rely on us.
References
1. Cohen C, et al. Workplace interventions to improve well-being and reduce burnout in healthcare professionals. BMJ Open. 2023;13:e071203.
2. Foxx F. The need for recovery: acute work-related fatigue in veterinary nursing. Vet Rec. 2024.
3. Vetlife. Burnout, moral injury and compassion fatigue in veterinary professionals. Vetlife; 2025.
4. Foster S. Compassion is key to patient safety. Br J Nurs. 2024;33(6):0206.