Barking Big

Dan Castillo DVM

Description

Get an insider’s look of what it takes to be a veterinarian from a practitioner who took a very unconventional path with this memoir.
Barking Big is a story of perseverance. Dr. Dan Castillo will take you through a very unique and unorthodox path, certainly far from the cookie-cutter path of college, veterinary school, and work.
This book talks about the author’s early childhood, his wild youth growing up in New York, his days in the Dominican Republic, and his journey through veterinary school in another language. The author will take you through his experiences, both good and tragic, that will lead you to four states—New York, Massachusetts, Iowa, and Virginia.
This story is a must-read for all those who have been told they will never make it and are determined to prove those naysayers wrong. It is also for parents or guardians who hope that their kid who may have lost his or her way will find the right path and succeed. This book is about learning to fail, getting through the roadblocks, persevering, and dreaming or barking big.

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• Biography
• Perseverance
• Memoir
• Autobiography

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669875574
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Barking Big
 
 

 
 
 
A Veterinarian’s Inspiring Story of Perseverance
 
 
 
 
 
 
Dan Castillo DVM
 
Copyright © 2023 by Dan Castillo DVM.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2023908082
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-7558-1

Softcover
978-1-6698-7556-7

eBook
978-1-6698-7557-4
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 04/26/2023
 
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
852223
CONTENTS
Chapter 1       An Intracultural Union
Chapter 2       Young and Wild
Chapter 3       Opportunity Knocks
Chapter 4       Fears
Chapter 5       Dominican Justice, the Law of the Land
Chapter 6       Developing a Routine
Chapter 7       Hard Times
Chapter 8       Fate from a Phone Call
Chapter 9       Hard Work Pays Off
Chapter 10     One Roadblock After Another
Chapter 11     Just Keep Going
Chapter 12     Fight Mode
Chapter 13     Virginia—Great Experience but Tragic Times
Chapter 14     Going Back to Massachusetts
Chapter 15     The Art of No Money Down
Chapter 16     Ground Zero Shift, October 9, 2001
Chapter 17     Hold Your Cards Close
Chapter 18     Monopoly Money
Chapter 19     Life-and-Death Decisions
Chapter 20     Life Goes on at the Clinic
Chapter 21     Curbside Treatment—In the Era of COVID-19
Chapter 22     The Veterinary Industry, Corporate versus Private
Chapter 23     Good Debt versus Bad Debt
CHAPTER 1
An Intracultural Union
T his book has been years in the making. Over the years, many people have told me I need to start documenting what I think and hope for all to read. It has been a pretty amazing journey. This book is a message for any parent, teacher, or mentor about what the possibilities are in any one individual. It is for any parent raising a kid who has lost his or her way or gotten sidetracked down the wrong path. There is always hope that this kid may find his or her own way.
Oddly enough, in the last couple of weeks, I just so happened to hear three famous individuals say what I believe are my own exact thoughts. Tom Brady in an interview with Howard Stern and Denzel Washington in a speech at a graduation said they had no plan B as far as their careers went. I am a veterinarian and have spent my whole life since the age of eighteen achieving this goal. They also said you need to fail—which I have many times.
Overcoming hurdles and failures and persevering in adversity are the most important skills we can have. I am constantly teaching this to my two sons, who are both in college, and to the interns and employees I have worked with over the last thirty years.
So let’s start the journey of a very unique, unorthodox upbringing, education, and life.
First and foremost, my three sisters and I are the products of an intercultural marriage. I am Dominican and Irish, which is most unusual and was especially so back in those days. My parents were married in 1957. One would never look at my family and think that we had any Dominican blood. My dad and the Castillo family in the Dominican Republic are descendants of the Spanish founders of the country, and they are white. The Dominican Republic, or DR, is mixed with three races: Spanish from Spain, Taino Indian from the Caribbean, and black from the African slave trade. In the DR, this mix is called mulatto. The Dominican Republic shares the island with Haiti, which I will not get into too much detail. It is a history that is very complex, violent, and painful. To this day, there are major political issues between the two countries.
My mom is an Irish American from Staten Island, New York. Her family had lived in Staten Island for many generations. They did not migrate from Brooklyn after the construction of the Verrazano Bridge as many other families did. My dad migrated from the DR in 1955. He was twenty-seven. He was left fatherless at three years of age and raised by my grandmother, a single mom, and her sister and brother-in-law. My aunt and uncle never had children of their own, but they provided my dad, his sister (my aunt Ula), and his brother (my uncle Vincho) with a stable and loving home. My uncle Vincho was just born when his dad, my grandfather Peligrin Castillo, died in 1931. My dad and his siblings were also reared by a very large extended family of half brothers and sisters from my grandfather’s previous marriage. As a matter of fact, those half brothers and sisters were about the same age as my grandmother. It is very common in Latin culture for multiple family members to raise and contribute to the entire family.
The history of my dad’s family in the DR is very deep and began before the country’s independence. My dad and his siblings were born at the beginning of the brutal dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. He took power in 1931 and remained in power until he was assassinated in 1961. My family has endless stories about those times.
In the Time of the Butterflies is a book about the Mirabal sisters, who were killed during that time. One of them was a classmate of my uncle Vincho’s. They spoke out and organized against the dictatorship and were eventually killed. This is one of the thousands of stories that are real.
My dad’s half brother Hostos was also murdered by the brutal regime. My dad talks about going to the funeral and hearing and seeing the very military officials who killed his brother there.
He described his time in medical school in the countryside. They called it pasantia . Medical students and residents spent time there treating the poor. My dad talked about how after long, hot days at work, he would go back to his housing and have dinner and then a few beers. One of the military officials who stood post would join my dad and the other medical students. After a few beers, the official would begin to break down and cry. He basically was dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and depression. He would describe the brutality of holding babies on bayonets during the Haitian massacre in 1937, where Trujillo gave the order for ethnic cleansing. They called Trujillo “the Hitler of the West.”
It was a different time. The Cold War was on, and he and every other dictator in Latin America were trained and supported by the United States. It is what it is and was what it was: tragic in every sense of the word. I heard a story about that time of a New York Times reporter trying to get information about the Haitian genocide. He was interviewing a Dominican military official. When the reporter asked the official about the killings, he responded, “No, there is no killing of any people here on the border.” The reporter asked him again and again, and he repeated his denial.
Then the reporter finally said, “Sir! We have evidence of these killings of the Haitian people.”
The official responded, “Oh, you mean the Haitians! Oh yes, we are killing them by the thousands.”
What a mentality!
Just a side note: the relationship between these two countries, the Dominican Republic and Haiti, goes way back, and it is very complicated. But the issue now is simple. The DR is a poor country. It can no longer sustain illegal immigration from Haiti. That needs to stop. For many in the international community, the easy fix for the problem is to make Haiti and the DR one country again. That will never happen. It would cause a major international crisis. Haiti is a sad situation; it has been abandoned, abused, and neglected. Maybe France and the international community could do a better job with a more proactive plan.
Let’s get back on track. In 1955, Trujillo was sending doctors to the States with the intention of having them return. My father applied for a visa, but it didn’t happen, despite many months, if not a year, of trying. My aunt, Tía Lela, just happened to be friends with Trujillo’s brother Catano. After a phone call, my father’s visa was granted in less than twenty-four hours. The family had his bags packed, and he was off to New York. I can’t imagine that scene when he was leaving. It was done quickly, and the whole family was wondering whether his exit would be prevented. “When will he return?” was the big question. He said he knew he would only return if Trujillo was assassinated, which happened six years after he left.
The flight to New York was long. The first stop was Port-au-Prince, Haiti. My father walked into a bar, and the bartender looked at him with suspicion.
“What is your name, and where are you from?”
“I am from Cibao, the interior of the DR, San Francisco de Macoris. My last name is Castillo.”
The bartender smiled and said, “I played baseball with your brother Hostos.” He also mentioned how my family was a huge help to some of the Haitian people who worked in the countryside. It was a crazy time. They called it the Parsley Massacre. If you couldn’t say the word peraril (Spanish for parsley), you were murdered. There were times when my uncle Americo Castillo would hide someone in his trunk at