As I gaze around my office this morning, I note an odd quiet, lack of chittty-chat, and alot of on hold phone calls. While I hope that this is the product of my staff working with sheer efficiency, I realize instead that this is simply a result of fewer girls (techs) per square foot. Welcome to small business America, where, sick employees stay home and tired bosses continue to show up for work.
My Dad was a product of a WW2 work ethic, going to the law office every day- never out sick. As a girl I occasionally heard him complain about sick secretaries or no show assistants, but he always went into work- rain or shine. Until I was married, I had never heard of sick leave or personal time. I had always been taught that the first part of work meant "show up". As an associate vet, I mostly followed my Dad's example- as a practice owner, I live it every day.
It is part of the American dream to be your own boss- set your own hours, take time off when you want, and make the big bucks. Unfortunately, being the owner of a vet practice means I work longer than anyone else, I have to be there or we cannot make money, and I am responsibile not only for my actions, but of my employees. If I want time off, I have to pay a veterinarian to take my place. The big bucks?- Well, maybe someday once the practice is paid off, for now the bank is the one sitting pretty.
What this means is when I am sick, I still have to come in to work. As a workaholic dinosaur, am I jealous of my stay at home sick employees- sometimes, but I know they work hard for me and really care about our practice. Hiring the right people includes taking care of them when they need it. My Dad would just say this is the price we pay for owning a business. I say it is part of being a modern boss and being able to see the big picture. Too bad my big picture can't include some sick stay at home couch time with the doxies!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Too Bad I am not a Yes Vet
"What is right is not always popular and what is popular is not always right."
— Albert Einstein
I suppose most folks have heard that quote somewhere before in one form or another. In veterinary medicine today, there is no statement more true, or more difficult to accomplish. As a vet, doing what is right often involves being an advocate for my patient. It means discussing all the options, and recommending the best solution to treat your pet's condition based on current medical knowledge, research and my experience. What is right is not necessarily the most expensive; it is not always the easiest on the pet owner's pocketbook. So, if doing what is right is my job, why do Yes Vets seem to garner all the glory?
Every city or town has one. Yes Vets are known for always bending rules for clients and waiving fees. Yes Vets don't need to perform those expensive lab tests or x-rays to find out what is wrong with your pet- they just know. Owners that always want a cortisone shot for their itchy pet- Sure and no questions asked says a Yes Vet.
A Yes Vet is usually very charismatic. He has learned that Vet Med is a people pleasing business and that you just need to read people, figure out what they really want, and say YES. Now while that sounds well and good, often the poor animal gets caught in the middle. That cortisone shot given to a diabetic or pet with cushings can cause severe harm or even death. Cancer patients that may have a future, are put to sleep without even discussing available options. Patients are diagnosed with heart failure without even an X-ray. Surgery is performed without sterile attire, without pain medication, and the high school kid monitoring your pet under anesthesia. And the list goes on and on.
Today I learned that a patient of mine with a ruptured ACL had a second opinion at a local Yes Vet. Although it is commonly accepted in Vet Med that ruptured ACL or cruciate ligaments need surgery, my client was told that she didn't need to do anything as ACLs heal on their own in small dogs. She of course was happy with this advice because it meant that she did not have to spend any money. Yes Vet is a hero but unfortunately her little dog will suffer the result.
What clients do not realize is saying yes is much easier than saying no. How beloved I would be if I could tell my clients with a radiant smile that YES, you don't need to give your cat pain medication after her surgery, why that lump is probably just a fatty tumor, YES we'll just watch it, allergies?- YES, here is some predisone and call me in the morning. Thing is- I like to sleep at night knowing I did the right thing for your pet. Ask yourself if your vet is a Yes Vet, then look at your pet and decide if he deserves better.
— Albert Einstein
I suppose most folks have heard that quote somewhere before in one form or another. In veterinary medicine today, there is no statement more true, or more difficult to accomplish. As a vet, doing what is right often involves being an advocate for my patient. It means discussing all the options, and recommending the best solution to treat your pet's condition based on current medical knowledge, research and my experience. What is right is not necessarily the most expensive; it is not always the easiest on the pet owner's pocketbook. So, if doing what is right is my job, why do Yes Vets seem to garner all the glory?
Every city or town has one. Yes Vets are known for always bending rules for clients and waiving fees. Yes Vets don't need to perform those expensive lab tests or x-rays to find out what is wrong with your pet- they just know. Owners that always want a cortisone shot for their itchy pet- Sure and no questions asked says a Yes Vet.
A Yes Vet is usually very charismatic. He has learned that Vet Med is a people pleasing business and that you just need to read people, figure out what they really want, and say YES. Now while that sounds well and good, often the poor animal gets caught in the middle. That cortisone shot given to a diabetic or pet with cushings can cause severe harm or even death. Cancer patients that may have a future, are put to sleep without even discussing available options. Patients are diagnosed with heart failure without even an X-ray. Surgery is performed without sterile attire, without pain medication, and the high school kid monitoring your pet under anesthesia. And the list goes on and on.
Today I learned that a patient of mine with a ruptured ACL had a second opinion at a local Yes Vet. Although it is commonly accepted in Vet Med that ruptured ACL or cruciate ligaments need surgery, my client was told that she didn't need to do anything as ACLs heal on their own in small dogs. She of course was happy with this advice because it meant that she did not have to spend any money. Yes Vet is a hero but unfortunately her little dog will suffer the result.
What clients do not realize is saying yes is much easier than saying no. How beloved I would be if I could tell my clients with a radiant smile that YES, you don't need to give your cat pain medication after her surgery, why that lump is probably just a fatty tumor, YES we'll just watch it, allergies?- YES, here is some predisone and call me in the morning. Thing is- I like to sleep at night knowing I did the right thing for your pet. Ask yourself if your vet is a Yes Vet, then look at your pet and decide if he deserves better.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I put my own cat to sleep yesterday
So often when people find out I am a veterinarian, the first thing they say is "I always wanted to be a vet, but I just couldn't handle putting animals to sleep". Euthanasia is a daily presence in veterinary practice- sometimes due to tragedy, sometimes economic. The most difficult ones are the pets that we have known for years or even their entire lives. These patients become part of our extended family and when we have to let go to relieve their suffering, it hurts us inside and reminds us of each of our own we have sent to the rainbow bridge.
My Katie, a chubby yet active Maine Coon, was part of our family for almost eleven years. A week old labor day weekend kitten, she was brought into the clinic by a good Samaritan. Cold and soaking wet, I agreed to foster her for the weekend then give her to the Humane Society to find a home. My husband and I had just lost our cat, Bugs, to kidney failure and were struggling to keep our Great Dane, Uli, afloat after his leg amputation and chemotherapy due to bone cancer. Another cat we did not need.
Fast forward to a weekend of bottle feeding, cuddling and purring- and as Stephen predicted we had a new cat. Katie grew into a big Maine Coon- she loved our dogs and acted just like them. She was very social- greeting us at the door and inserting herself into our daily lives. Katie was absolutely the best cat we have ever had.
Ten years later, Katie developed severe asthma. Treatments to help her included a daily inhaler that she took in stride allowing us to do what was necessary to help her. As her breathing became more difficult, her activity diminished, she kept her distance, and her appetite waned. Even as we could hear her gurgle, I tried to convince myself that she was just having a bad day, that I could still help her. Sensibility came when I realized that as her veterinarian, I had to make a decision that was best for her, not me.
Sunday, we let her spend the morning on the porch. I gave her some pain medication, then a sedative. We held her and stroked her head while she fell asleep. My husband carried her to our table for the final injection. I asked him to walk away while I gave it to her and felt her life slip away. This procedure I have performed many times, but the emotion and responsibility surrounding this time was deep, painful, and filled with guilt.
With each patient euthanasia I perform, I relive my own pet's love, life, and death. It is a necessary, but difficult task to take a life, to relive suffering. But I would be lying if I said it was easy or without regret.
My Katie, a chubby yet active Maine Coon, was part of our family for almost eleven years. A week old labor day weekend kitten, she was brought into the clinic by a good Samaritan. Cold and soaking wet, I agreed to foster her for the weekend then give her to the Humane Society to find a home. My husband and I had just lost our cat, Bugs, to kidney failure and were struggling to keep our Great Dane, Uli, afloat after his leg amputation and chemotherapy due to bone cancer. Another cat we did not need.
Fast forward to a weekend of bottle feeding, cuddling and purring- and as Stephen predicted we had a new cat. Katie grew into a big Maine Coon- she loved our dogs and acted just like them. She was very social- greeting us at the door and inserting herself into our daily lives. Katie was absolutely the best cat we have ever had.
Ten years later, Katie developed severe asthma. Treatments to help her included a daily inhaler that she took in stride allowing us to do what was necessary to help her. As her breathing became more difficult, her activity diminished, she kept her distance, and her appetite waned. Even as we could hear her gurgle, I tried to convince myself that she was just having a bad day, that I could still help her. Sensibility came when I realized that as her veterinarian, I had to make a decision that was best for her, not me.
Sunday, we let her spend the morning on the porch. I gave her some pain medication, then a sedative. We held her and stroked her head while she fell asleep. My husband carried her to our table for the final injection. I asked him to walk away while I gave it to her and felt her life slip away. This procedure I have performed many times, but the emotion and responsibility surrounding this time was deep, painful, and filled with guilt.
With each patient euthanasia I perform, I relive my own pet's love, life, and death. It is a necessary, but difficult task to take a life, to relive suffering. But I would be lying if I said it was easy or without regret.
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