I moved to the UK in 2017 as a nervous, but enthusiastic, new graduate vet. I promised myself I would embrace the challenge of moving abroad, that in the long run it would be good for me.
At the time, there were very few roles for newly qualified vets in Dublin. The five-year support structure of vet school disappeared seemingly overnight, and my classmates and I were proverbially thrown into the oceanic depths of clinical work.
Our friendship group dispersed worldwide, and we found ourselves depending on video calls and lengthy voice notes to keep ourselves afloat emotionally. We were all feeling the sting of being an inexperienced expat.
For me, I opted to be buoyed by two internships, first in Manchester and then in London, in emergency medicine and surgery respectively, under the guidance of specialist clinicians. This early hand-holding provided me with the initial experience and confidence to go somewhat alone into clinical practice thereafter.
A critic of this column thinks there’s too much negativity about Ireland, not enough about Australia’s beaches
‘In Ireland we have lost some the human connection in business dealings. In Uganda it is deeply valued’
An Irishman in Basque Country: ‘My first encounter with a tortilla came out of necessity. Now I order one out of desire’
From an Irish workhouse to Australia – the story of the Famine orphan girls
The dull ache for Ireland would linger in my chest for days afterwards, until finally a combination of distance, my work and social life would ameliorate the loneliness
I have lived in London for five years now, and my life here has always been punctuated by routine trips home to refill my emotional reserve. Since I first emigrated, the journey from my home in Tuam to Knock airport bookmarked the end of many trips back to Galway. I would often sit in near silence for that 45-minute journey, as I tried to prepare for the wave of homesickness that would inevitably begin to set in.
Despite having established a life for myself in London, despite the gaggle of incredible friends I’d made, I would dread these Irish goodbyes.
The dull ache for Ireland would linger in my chest for days afterwards, until finally a combination of distance, my work and social life would ameliorate the loneliness. I would breathe a sigh of relief as I would wake up to find the crushing feeling had lifted overnight. As the years passed, I would struggle to imagine myself coming home to work as a vet.
I threw myself into general practice and spent the four years since my internships upskilling. During this time, I felt my enthusiasm buckle alongside the overall morale of the profession. The pandemic led to an upsurge in the UK pet population, with a counterintuitive increase in understaffed clinics, overworked staff and abusive clients.
My classmates and I have become hardened by the demands of small animal veterinary, with many of my friends now leaving the profession. The Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons held an emergency summit in 2021 focused on recruitment and retention which found that half of those who quit the career do so within five years of qualifying. A disheartening but unsurprising result.
While there certainly is an art to veterinary, I wanted to extend this artistry to the page
While I grew up with a father in the profession, studying to be a vet was never a vocational goal of mine. In some ways, I am thankful for this as it makes the idea of stepping back from the job easier.
For me, writing has always been my true passion and what ultimately led me to enrol in a creative writing MA at Birkbeck, University of London, last year. I wanted to return to education in a creative sense and indulge in a craft I’ve always revered.
While there certainly is an art to veterinary, I wanted to extend this artistry to the page. Among other individuals defined by previous careers, I took evening classes twice weekly and felt the power of storytelling open a world of possibility.
Although it was a challenge balancing school with my clinical work (which I had reduced to part-time), at times running from surgery to catch the bus into campus, I felt a renewed sense of self among the works of others. I was taken aback by the conscientiousness and gentleness with which people treated one another’s stories, a kindness I sometimes found lacking in the daily stress of small animal practice.
During this time, I finally imagined a life outside the consult room. I saw how I could potentially deviate my energy elsewhere. While I know I will always practice, I’m lucky that veterinary will not only act as a lifelong financial foothold, but will allow for the breathing space needed to pursue writing. And I’m lucky I decided to spend long enough in the profession and in London to discover this.
I’ve watched from afar as the Irish literary scene has continued to thrive and support its writers. A lecturer of mine once said that the Irish see the world differently, that there is a richness to how we interpret life.
I’m currently finishing my dissertation with plans to return to Ireland in October. The ache in my chest has finally subsided and I’m ready to go home. I left Dublin as an inexperienced student, now I’m hoping to return as a writer.
- Rebekah Rennick is currently finishing her dissertation at Birkbeck College, London. She recently finished a part-time vet job in London and plans to return to clinical work in Ireland. She is from Tuam, Co Galway, and emigrated to Britain in 2017 after graduating from UCD as a vet. She will move back to Ireland in October and return to clinical work.
- If you live overseas and would like to share your experience with Irish Times Abroad, email abroad@irishtimes.com with a little information about you and what you do.
