10 years ago,

I got a phone call that
changed my life.

At the time, I was 
cardiologist at UCLA,

specializing in cardiac 
imaging techniques.

The call came from a veterinarian
at the Los Angeles Zoo.

An elderly female chimpanzee

had woken up with a facial droop

and the veterinarians were worried
that she had had a stroke.

They asked if I could 
come to the zoo

and image the animal's heart

to look for a possible cardiac cause.

Now, to be clear, North American
zoos are staffed

by highly qualified, 
board-certified veterinarians

who take outstanding 
care of animal patients.

But occasionally, they do reach into 
the human medical community,

particularly for some 
speciality consultation,

and I was one of the lucky physicians
who was invited to help.

I had a chance to rule out
a stroke in this chimpanzee

and make sure that this gorilla 
didn't have a torn aorta.

Evaluate this macaw
for a heart murmur,

make sure that this californian sea lion's
paracardium wasn't inflamed.

And in this picture, I'm listening
to the heart of a lion

after a lifesaving collaborative procedure 
with veteranarians and physicians.

We drained 700 CCs of 
fluid from the sack

in which this lion's 
heart was contained.

And this procedure, which I have
done on many human patients,

was identical with the exception
of that paw and that tail.

Now most of the time, I was
working at the UCLA Medical Center

with physicians, discussing symptoms
and diagnoses and treatments

for my human patients.

But some of the time, I was
working at the Los Angeles Zoo

i was working at the 
Los Angeles Zoo with veteranarians

discussing symptoms, 
diagnoses and treatments

for their animal patients.

And occasionally, on 
the very same day,

I went on rounds at the 
UCLA Medical Center

and at the Los Angeles Zoo,

and here's what started coming
into very clear focus for me.

Physicians and veterinarians
were essentially taking care

of the same disorders in :their 
animal and human patients

congestive heart failure, brain tumors,

lukemia, diabetes, 
arthritis, ALS, breast cancer,

even psychiatric symptoms like depression,

anxiety, compulsions, eating disorders
and self injury.

Now, I've got a confession to make.

Even though I studied comparative
physiology and evolutionary biology,

as an undergrad,

I had even written my senior 
thesis on darwinian theory,

learning about the 
significant overlap

between the disorders of 
animals and humans.

It came as a much needed 
wake up call for me.

So I started wondering,
with all of these overlaps,

how was it that I had never
thought to ask a veterinarian,

or consult the veterinary literature,

for insights into one 
of my human patients?

Why had I never, nor had any of my physician
friends and colleagues who I asked,

ever attended a veterinary conference?

For that matter, why was 
any of this a surprise?

I mean look, every single physician
accepts some biological connection

between animals and humans.

Every medication that we prescribe
or that we've taken ourselves

or we've given to our families

has first been tested on an animal.

But there's something very different

about giving an animal a 
medication or a human disease

and the animal developing 
congestive heart failure

or diabetes or breats cancer on their own.

Now maybe some of the surprise

comes from the increasing
separation in our world

between the urban and the non-urban.

You know, we hear about 
these city kids who

think that wool grows on trees

or that cheese comes from a plant.

Well today's human hospitals

are turning into increasingly

these gleaming cathedrals
of technology.

And this creates a psychological
distance between the human patients

who are being treated there

and animal patients who
are living in oceans

and farms and jungles.

But I think there's an even deeper reason.

Physicians and scientists, we accept,
intellectually that our species

homo sapien, is merely one species

no more unique or
special than any other.

But in our hearts, we don't 
completely believe that.

I feel it myself when I'm 
listening to Motzart

or looking at pictures of the 
Mars Rover on my MacBook.

I feel that tug of 
human exceptionalism,

even as I recognize the 
scientifically isolating cost

of seeing ourselves as a
superior species apart.

Well, I'm trying these days.

When I see a human patient
now, I always ask,

"what do the animal doctors know
about this problem that I don't know?"

and "Might I be taking better 
care of my human patient

if I saw them as a human
animal patient?"

Here are a few examples of the 
kind of exciting connections

that this kind of t
thinking has led me to:

fear-induced heart failure.

Around the year 2000,

human cardiologists "discovered"
emotionally induced heart failure.

It was described in a gambling father 
who had lost his life's savings

with the roll of a dice,

in a bride who had 
been left at the alter.

But it turns out that this 
"new human diagnosis"

was neither new, nor
was it uniquely human.

Veterinarians had been diagnosing, 
treating, and even preventing

emotionally-induced
symptoms in animals,

ranging from monkeys to flamingos,
to deer to rabbits,

since the 1970s.

How many human lives 
might have been saved

if this veterinary knowledge had 
been put into the hands

of ER docs and cardiologists?

Self injury.

Some human patients harm themselves.

Some pluck out patches of hair.

Others actually cut themselves.

Some animal patients 
also harm themselves.

There are birds that pluck out feathers.

There are stallions that repetitively
bite their flanks until they bleed.

But veterinarians have very specific
and very effective ways

of treating and even
preventing self-injury.

In their self-injuring animals,

shouldn't this veterinary knowledge
be put into the hands

of psychotherapists and 
parents and patients

struggling with self-injury,

post pardem depression and 
post pardem psychosis?

Sometimes, soon after giving birth

Some women become depressed,

they become seriously depressed
and sometimes psychotic.

They may neglect their newborn,

and in some extreme cases,

even harm the child.

Equine veteranarians also
know that a mare,

soon after giving birth,

will neglect the foul,
refusing to nurture it,

and in some instances,
kick the foul even to death.

But veterinarians have divised

an intervention to deal with
this foul rejection syndrome

that involves increasing 
oxytocin in the mare,

oxytocin is the bonding hormone.

And this leads to renewed interest

on the part of the mare in her foul.

Shouldn't this information

be put into the hands of OBGYNs

and family doctors and patients

who are struggling with postpartum
depression and psychosis?

Well despite all of this promise,

unfortunately, the gulf between
our fields remains large.

To explain it, I'm afraid I'm 
going to have to air

some dirty laundry.

Some physicians can 
be real snobs

about doctors who are not MDs.

I'm talking about dentists and 
optomitrists and psychologists

and optomitrists and psychologists.

But maybe especially, animal doctors.

Of course, most physicians

don't realize that it's harder

to get into vet school these
days than medical school.

And that when we go 
to medical school,

we learn everything there is to konw

about one species, homo sapiens.

But veterinarians need to learn
about health and disease.

in mammals, amphibians,
reptiles, fish and birds.

So I don't blame the vets

for feeling annoyed by

my profession's condescension
and ignorance.

But here's one from the vets:

What do you call a veteranarian

who can only take care of one species?

A physician.

Closing the gap has become 
a passion for me

and I'm doing this 
through programs

like Darwin on Rounds at UCLA

where we're bringing animal experts 
and evolutionary biologists

and embedding them on 
our medical teams

with our interns and our residents.

And through Zoobiquity conferences

where we bring medical schools 
together with veterinary schools

for collabortive discussions

of the shared diseases and disorders

of animal and human patients.

At Zoobiquity conferences,

participants learn how treating
breast cancer in a tiger

can help us better 
treat breast cancer

in a kindergarten teacher.

How understanding polycistic
overies in a holstein cow

can help us better take care

of a dance instructor with painful periods.

And how better understanding the 
treatment of separation anxiety

in a high-strung Sheltie

can help a high strung child 
on his first days of school.

In the United States and 
now internationally

At Zoobiquity conferences,

physicians and veterinarians check
their attitudes and their preconceptions

at the door and come 
together as colleagues

as peers, as doctors.

After all, we humans 
are animals, too.

And it's time for us 
physicians to embrace

our patients and 
our own animal natures

and join veterinarians

in a species-spannign approach to health.

Because it turns out,

some of the best and 
most humanistic medicine

is being practiced by doctors whose
patients aren't human.

And one of the best ways 
we can take care

of the human patient is by 
paying close attention

to how the other 
patients on the planet

live, grow, get sick and heal.

Thank you.

(Applause).