Anna Worth

I would like to share some thoughts about a good friend of mine and a fellow past president of the American Animal Hospital Association.

Anna learned very shortly after I passed the presidency to her that she had inoperable cancer. I was devastated and will never forget the pain when I heard the news.

We had worked together for years as we progressed through AAHA leadership. It never occurs to you that something could threaten such a bond.

I often wonder what I would do if faced with a similar situation. I hope that I have the courage and the outlook to face such a crisis with the grace and dignity of Anna. She immediately let it be known that she would fulfill her duties and lead the association as planned. In case you aren’t aware this is an association with 40,000 individual members and 6,000 hospital members. The job requires extensive travel, constant media interviews, meetings throughout our profession and leading the board of directors. It is no small task for a person in good health. I spent much of the year chasing Anna and following her exploits when I wasn’t with her. Not only did she show up, she led with endless energy and the all important smile on her face. When I passed the gavel to her I mentioned in a quote that there are two kinds of people in this world. The first walks into a room and says, “Here I am!” The second type of person walks into a room and says, “There you are!” Anna was truly the second type of person. She was capable of bringing out the best in everyone and always made sure it was fun.

The culmination of the AAHA presidency is the yearly conference in March. This is an unbelievably exciting and busy time for the president. It is a week of leading meetings and public speaking with little or no free time. We were all worried about how Anna would hold up to the strain. I still feel immense pride when I think of how she carried off all of her duties. She was in the moment, happy, smiling and touching everyone with her passion for the veterinary profession. The memory of the week will always allow me to catch myself when I am feeling overworked or unhappy with a situation.  I only need to ask, “How would Anna do this?”

Anna passed away on May 16, 2009. It was just six weeks after the annual conference.

I will always thank her for showing me how to be not just a better person but the best person I can be.

Thank you Anna.

Babe Griffin was a client of mine shortly after I graduated from veterinary school. He was a great guy and I always tried to make extra time in my appointments to talk to him. Babe was probably in his seventies at the time. He was a former boxer and a fight promoter. Not that it would have been much of an accomplishment but he could have taken me in the ring even at his advancing age. Babe had a Boston terrier named Rico. He loved Rico and they were rarely separated.

Over time I had seen them frequently. Rico was a young healthy terrier with a muscular physique that rivaled his owner’s. I guess it is true that owners and their dogs really do look alike. Babe brought Rico in because he had suddenly started sneezing violently. He had a few drops of blood coming from one nostril and winked at me as he sneezed. Living out in the country in California made me suspicious of a foxtail up his nose. For those who aren’t familiar with foxtails, think of a small piece of weed with a sharp point on one end and fingers on the other. The end result is a weed awn built to travel in only one direction. It was early in my career but I had spent much time pulling them out of every possible orifice in a dog. I told Babe that I needed to give Rico a light anesthetic to look up his nose and prepared to take him to the back of the hospital. Babe asked if I wanted him to help, “Rico can get a little funny without me”. I smiled reassuringly and told him I thought he would be just fine. He was muscular but after all, at 20 pounds he didn’t look like a threat to mankind.

I gave Rico to a technician and walked Babe out letting him know that I would call him shortly and Rico could sleep it off for a few hours before going home. He asked me again if I wanted him to stay and I chuckled and told him to go have a nice lunch and not to worry.

As I walked back toward the treatment room I heard a tremendous commotion. I peeked through the window and saw the technician standing on top of the counter with Rico leaping at her. I would have laughed except I knew I was the one who was going to have to corral my sweet little friend who had turned into a piranha. I would like to tell you that I had a way with Rico and it all went smoothly. After a half hour he was sedated in preparation for his anesthesia. I had a torn jacket, was covered in pee and poop and our technician needed to be talked down from the counter.

The good news, Rico had his foxtail removed. I called Babe and told him that it all went fine and that Rico got a little feisty. This time Babe chuckled and he reminded me that he had tried to warn me. I let Babe take him out of the cage when he arrived. Rico was back to his loving self with his dad back in sight. I moved away a few years later and never saw Babe or Rico again but people are still surprised when I tell them the meanest dog I ever saw was a little Boston terrier.