A Love Letter To My Colleague

I've had a couple of long posts simmering in my brain for quite some time, and I thought I'd give one of them an airing. This post is about my colleague, JX. And no, I'm not really in love with him, but this is definitely a love letter.

JX and his wife, both Han Chinese from Xinjiang (that fact alone prompted me to write more than 1000 words on the current political situation in Xinjiang, which I subsequently deleted, as it's not the point of this post), have been in the US for close to 10+ years. He's got a good applied veterinary job with the state, she's got a good research job with the enormous medical research university here. Between them, they hold many degrees and accreditations.

Now I've got to loop in some old hair-raising tales from our lab. For years, the board-certified veterinary pathologists were stabbing each other in the back. They would sit on cases like they personally owned all data and test results. They would claw and scratch anyone who even dared to ask about the status of a case. They would literally close their office doors and refuse to communicate with lab techs, submitting veterinarians, farm managers, and especially co-workers. Cases would drag on for months.

My colleague JX was hired into this quagmire with the expectation that he would handle all veterinarian-submitted cases that didn't involve tissue or a body. And that's what he did for several years, until that toxic workplace imploded on itself.

I was told by the current lab director that the first time my colleague JX went onto the necropsy floor, the board-certified pathologists wasted no time showing up in the director's office to complain about the "contamination."

And here we are, at the heart of this post. Racism, egotism, white privilege. It all makes me sick to my stomach.

When the implosion occurred, and the racist, egoistic, privileged pathologists quit en masse, my colleague JX was left to hold down the fort in necropsy for months until I showed up in July of last year. Talk about trial by fire. He was certainly qualified but had limited necropsy experience to that point. JX was thrown into the deep end of the pool...and he excelled. He rose to the occasion, and he learned what he needed to learn despite the lack of supervision, guidance, and mentorship.

When I arrived, I met a seasoned gross pathologist, a solid veterinary diagnostician. He freely and generously offered his opinion...but only when asked. He acknowledged that our lab section was in desperate need of supervision...but he didn't want to be the person in charge. When I was made supervisor of our section, he told me, "I have your back. I will support all decisions that you make." How awesome is that? Any supervisor ever would be over the moon to hear that from a high-level report.

And here's the thing. JX might not be in charge, but I don't make very many decisions without consulting with him first. He and I talk about our active cases every day--we discuss what our differentials are, what ancillary tests we might want to run, what results have come in and how they are to be interpreted, and what is important and what is just of "academic" interest. Our discussion are loud, lively, and often involve citing references to each other. Our lab director told me privately that he often has no idea what we are arguing about most of the time, but that he loves overhearing us. In fact, JX and I work so closely that we do necropsies together, and even trade cases between ourselves. This drives Receiving crazy as they want to know "who has this case" but I tell them, JX and I will sort that out later.

JX took in a racehorse today. He texted me to let me know. I replied, "When do you want to do the necropsy?"--it's his case, after all. It's a holiday on Monday and the lab is officially closed and our techs are not available. He said, "Your thinking?" and I replied, "Insured. We shouldn't wait. Tomorrow morning?". He replied, "9am". Perfect. He's in charge, I will be his tech, and it will be a fantastic morning in necropsy with my colleague.

I've had plenty of colleagues and mentors in my checkered career(s). But JX stands out. Professional. No drama. Amazing powers of observation (he found a PDA in a calf, super rare). Thorough but level-headed, so he isn't obsessive. He is kind. He is perfectly happy to indulge in black humor. He thinks outside of the box. He is willing to take risks. But he does not want to be in charge. And here I am, bossy-pants, ready to tell everyone what to do. Match made in heaven.

This is a love letter to my colleague. JX, because of you, I am a better veterinarian, a better gross pathologist, and a better manager.