We Weren’t Just Taught Medicine—We Were Trained in Science

Somewhere between 3 a.m. emergency calls, five-minute rechecks, and trying to remember if we already gave that cat Cerenia, it’s easy to forget that we’re not just clinicians, we’re scientists. Every time we evaluate a limping dog, interpret lab data, or decide whether that “vomiting for two days” case needs imaging or a bland diet, we’re applying the same logic that underpins the scientific method.

Veterinarians are, at our core, applied scientists in the field. We hypothesize (“Maybe this is dietary indiscretion”), we test (“Let’s run labs and see if lipase is elevated”), we analyze results, and we adjust our conclusions. The difference is, instead of writing a paper, we’re often writing SOAP notes at 11:58 p.m. on a Saturday.

The Method Behind the Madness

Let’s take a moment to remember what “being scientific” actually means. It’s not just about reading journal articles or citing studies at rounds, it’s a mindset:

1. Observation – noticing subtle clinical changes (like the way that dog sits).

2. Question – asking, “Is this pain, weakness, or learned behavior?”

3. Hypothesis – forming a testable explanation.

4. Experimentation – diagnostic testing or trial therapy.

5. Analysis – interpreting data and results critically.

6. Revision – updating our plan when the patient doesn’t read the textbook.

This framework sounds simple, but in practice, bias and cognitive shortcuts can sneak in faster than a Labrador stealing a sandwich.

The Bias Beneath the Lab Coat

All scientists, veterinarians included, fall victim to cognitive bias. Confirmation bias, anchoring bias, and even recency bias shape how we interpret data. You’ve likely experienced it: the “I’ve seen three pancreatitis cases this week, so this must be another one” syndrome. Or anchoring on an initial assumption and missing the more obscure but correct diagnosis.

Bias doesn’t make us bad doctors, it makes us human. Recognizing it is the first step toward maintaining scientific integrity in our everyday decisions.

Here are a few common ones to keep in mind:

• Confirmation Bias: Favoring data that supports our hunch

  • (“The ultrasound looks kind of grainy; yep, pancreatitis!”).

• Anchoring Bias: Overweighting the first piece of information we hear

  • (“The client said she ate grass, so it must be dietary.”).

• Availability Bias: Overestimating the likelihood of a diagnosis because it’s top-of-mind

  • (“Everyone has leptospirosis lately!”).

• Outcome Bias: Judging our previous decision by the outcome rather than the process

  • (“It turned out fine, so it was a good call.”).

Even with all our experience, objectivity requires conscious effort. Good medicine isn’t just about knowing the right answers, it’s about questioning our own reasoning.

Evidence-Based Everything

In an age where new “miracle therapies” pop up faster than cat memes, evidence-based thinking is our best defense. The veterinary marketplace is full of claims, supplements, diets, devices, and drugs, that promise big results. Our job isn’t to be cynical, but skeptical. Skepticism, after all, is the companion of science, not its enemy.

When evaluating new information:

• Follow the hierarchy of evidence – peer-reviewed clinical trials outweigh anecdotal Facebook testimonials

• Check for conflicts of interest – funding source, author affiliations, and sample size matter

• Demand reproducibility – one positive study doesn’t make a truth

• Stay curious but grounded – innovation is exciting, but biology still plays by the same rules

If the data looks too good to be true, it probably skipped peer review and went straight to marketing.

Science in the Exam Room

Science doesn’t live only in journals, it’s embedded in every conversation we have with clients. Communicating scientific reasoning is part of our professional craft. When we explain why we recommend a diagnostic test, or how we know a medication works, we’re not just educating—we’re reinforcing trust in evidence-based practice.

That trust matters. In a world full of “Dr. Google” and pet influencers, our scientific mindset is the antidote to misinformation. Clients may not remember the mechanism of action, but they’ll remember your confidence in facts.

Why It Still Matters

Veterinary medicine is one of the few professions that still requires a daily blend of science, art, and empathy. The art is compassion. The empathy is connection. But the science, the part we sometimes take for granted, is what keeps us anchored in truth.

When we lean on data, question our assumptions, and apply critical thinking, we elevate not just our patient care, but our profession. And maybe, just maybe, we make it a little easier for the next generation of vets to see themselves not just as caregivers, but as the scientists they trained to be.

The next time you’re faced with a confusing case, remember: every hypothesis starts as a guess, but science makes it an educated one. So dust off that inner scientist, grab your metaphorical lab goggles, and keep practicing curiosity.

Because the day we stop thinking like scientists… is the day we start practicing guesswork instead of medicine.

And that, colleagues, would be pawsitively unscientific.