The Wins That Carry You Through a Career

Last week a veterinarian told me about a complex GDV he managed beautifully: great teamwork and calm communication with a worried family. The dog went home happy to be reunited with the owners. A huge win.

When I asked him how he celebrated, he looked at me as if I had suggested he cancel the rest of his day.

“I didn’t. I just moved on. There were still lots of appointments.”

That right there is the pattern. We solve. We move on. And then we quietly wonder why it never feels like enough.

We, in the profession are adept at reviewing what went wrong. We carry the cases that did not go well. We replay the missed detail. We hold onto the tone of voice we wish we had softened. We worry about social media. But if we only rehearse our shortcomings, we train our brains to scan for threats instead of progress.

How many times have you dismissed a compliment with, “It was nothing”? Or, just deflect it to someone else? When a case goes well, do you feel satisfaction… or do you immediately search for what could have gone wrong? That was me.

Celebrating is not ego. It takes training to develop.

Arthur Brooks writes about the importance of savoring, not just experiencing. If you do not consciously register a positive moment, it slips past you. You did the thing. You helped the patient. You led the team. But you did not absorb it, and it is gone.

In veterinary medicine, this happens every single day.

The diabetic cat whose curve finally improves.

The associate who handles her first euthanasia with grace.

The receptionist who diffuses a difficult client.

The fact that you made it through a demanding week without losing your mind.

We treat these as neutral. “That’s just my job.” And the brain learns that nothing is ever quite enough.

One of my clients came up with a unique way to capture the positive moments in his day. He bought a small pocket clicker counter. Every time he notices something that goes well, big, or small, he clicks it once. Now, he looks for moments to click. His attention shifted. Not away from responsibility, but toward evidence of capability. This is celebration training. Notice what happens in your body when you hear the words, “That was well done.” Do you feel affirmed? Or does part of you tighten and dismiss it?

Celebration requires a deliberate pause.

After a successful surgery, replay the moment you knew you did a good job. Maybe it is placing the last suture, or how well your pre-sedation protocol calmed your patient.

Dan Sullivan talks about living in the Gain rather than the Gap. The Gap is the distance between where you are and some imagined ideal. The Gain is how far you have already come - and with some honest reflection is measurable.

Veterinarians are masters of Gap thinking. In the Gap, there is no celebration.

Rewiring also happens when you celebrate someone else.

When you recognize a technician’s calm presence during anesthesia.

When you acknowledge a new graduate who just worked their first solo shift.

When you thank your receptionist for holding the emotional weight of the front desk.

In those moments, you are not just boosting morale. You are training your own brain to look for positivity, competence, and contribution.

Early in my career, I believed my role was to assert leadership and give orders. I thought confidence meant having the answers, directing the team, keeping things moving. What I did not understand at the time was how rarely I acknowledged the people around me. I was focused on efficiency and standards - and my needs. I was scanning for what needed correction.

It took some time to realize that leadership is not only about setting direction. It is about noticing contribution. The day I began consistently noticing what the team did well, and thanking others for their help, something shifted. The clinic felt lighter, and I felt more supported. It was no longer my team but our team. Celebrating others did not weaken authority. It strengthened trust, and it changed me as much as it encouraged them.

If you never deliberately mark progress, your career can slowly become a series of problems solved and fires extinguished. Years will pass. You help thousands of animals and families. And it blurs together as “just work.”

Sustainability in this profession is not built only on endurance. It is built on your willingness to notice what is working while you are still in the middle of it. This is the process I referred to in my previous blog.

Small moments, marked consistently, become a life you can feel proud of.

Dr. Bill