Jessica Vogelsang DVM

I was looking for a fight.  The client knew it and was calling me out on it.  I had been angry since the moment I dialed the phone.

“Hi, it’s Dr. Smith from the animal hospital.  I hear there’s a problem with you picking up Fido’s script…”  I started out pleasant enough on the surface but inside I was prepared for a battle.

The client was angry because I refused to mail them a prescription for their pet’s seizure medication.  It was a controlled substance and two previous prescriptions had already been lost in the mail.  The patient was completely out of medication.

I agreed to refill it but only if the client came down and physically picked up the hard copy of the script to deliver to the pharmacy.  The client wasn’t satisfied when the receptionist told them this and demanded to speak to me.

I tried to explain the legal issues surrounding controlled substances, but the client was adamant that I was in the wrong.

“My dog needs her medication, if he has a seizure it will be your fault,” the client snapped.

“No, it will be your fault for refusing to drive down here to pick up the prescription.”

“I worked all day, I’m not going to spend 30 minutes sitting in traffic just to pick up a piece of paper.”

“And I’m not going to risk my DEA license.  If you can’t get here today, you shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to request a refill.  Poor planning on your part is not an emergency on my part,” I retorted angrily.

Things only went downhill from there.  We bickered a little bit longer before the client sneered, “Well thaaaaaank you for alllll your help.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied haughtily before slamming down the phone.

A part of me found it satisfying to tell off a difficult client who had been nothing but rude, demanding and accusatory but the truth is, we had fed off each other’s negative energy and accomplished nothing.  The client was angry, I was angry, the patient had no medication. My own behavior had only exacerbated an already tenuous situation.

This is known as complementarity–the idea that we mirror the behavior of the person we’re interacting with.  Friendliness begets friendliness and hostility begets hostility.  When we encounter difficult clients, it’s easy to get defensive and fall into the pattern of being difficult in return.

I don’t know if anything I could have said would have defused this particular situation—the client was adamant that I do what she wanted and I was adamant that I would not.  We were at an impasse.  But sometimes, all it takes is for one person to break the cycle and turn the situation on its head.

In another instance, I was dealing with an angry client who normally saw one of my colleagues.  I had called her with lab results and she was upset because I had not reviewed the pet’s medical history far enough back to know that her dog had dealt with the same issue several years prior.  When she came into the clinic for a follow up the next day, she asked someone who I was and approached.

“You know, you shouldn’t call people without reviewing the entire medical record,” she said angrily.

I opened my mouth prepared to defend myself—I was doing a favor by following up when her regular doctor was away and I had reviewed the recent records, I just didn’t have time to go back through dozens of pages and years of history just to deliver lab results.  I was prepared to let the angry words flow.  Instead, what came out was an apology.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

She paused, looking taken aback.  “Alright then.”  And that was the end of that.

I’ve had many other interactions as well where reacting to an irate client with kind words and a smile on my face, even when I wasn’t feeling it, changed the whole situation.  Doing the unexpected can break the cycle and by acting kindly, you naturally encourage the client to do the same.

I’m not advocating for letting clients walk all over you, of course.  If they continue to berate you, undermine you and harass you or your staff, you need to take a stand.  You need to let them know that you will not be mistreated or they will have to find another vet.  Life is too short to let people bully you. But often times, a little kindness can go a long way towards turning a difficult client into a great one.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

 

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About the Author

Dr. Lauren Smith graduated in 2008 from Ross University School of Veterinary Medicine and completed her clinical year at Cornell University. Her professional interests include internal medicine, preventative medicine and client education. Dr. Smith lives and practices on Long Island with her cat, Charlie and dog, Frankie and loves to read write and run in her free time.  You can check out more of her writing at laurensmithdvm.com

 

 

Two years ago in an emergency situation, I met my vet and he has changed my life. The things I  learned from Dr. Jason Sweitzer and the entire staff at Conejo Valley Veterinary Hospital have given me incredible insight into the world of veterinary medicine and fueled my passion for not just the science but ALL the people in it.

I cannot help but shed a tear every time I hear of one of these amazing people being verbally beaten down, sometimes to a point of no return. These people give their whole hearts every day and speak for those that cannot speak for themselves. It is very important to me that they know just how much they all matter.

1. They are not in this for the money. As a client with many animals, I often have to take them in early in preparation for procedures. This means I often see the vets and techs coming in around that time and I can tell you they are not driving Audis, BMWs, or Mercedes. However, when I volunteered at a local hospital and parked in the structure where the doctors park everything was a high end car. Vets make significantly less than doctors yet have just as much if not more education across various species and techs make significantly less that nurses.

2. Their day goes long beyond their shift.  Your vet may be on a schedule of 8-4, however that simply means that if they are lucky they “might” get home to their families by 8pm. They do not just leave at their end of shift. They stay additional hours to complete records, call pet owners, and personally check that their cases of the day are stabilized and doing well. By doing this they sacrifice time with their own families and we need to understand and appreciate this.

3. They suffer heartbreak every day.  Every time an animal comes in, be it for a checkup or a more serious matter, your vet is your ally. They do everything in their power to make sure your pet is healthy and you as a client are informed but in those times when it’s more than a checkup, they share every ounce of fear and concern you do. If it becomes a situation of euthanasia, their hearts shatter along with yours. Just because it is “part of the job” does not mean it’s ever easy or you get used to it. They do not teach you in veterinary school how to stop your heart from breaking and it often happens multiple times in a day.

4. Fatigue is part of the job. There are days when your vet may have multiple emergent cases she works tirelessly to help. This means an 8 hour day can easily become an 18 hour one and by the time she looks at the clock it’s 2am and she starts her next shift at 8am. Instead of driving home bleary eyed, she sleeps at the office.

5. They absorb a lot of rudeness. DON’T DO IT. Vets and techs have and give the most compassion of any medical professionals. It costs us as clients zero to be kind and compassionate in return. To always appreciate the efforts big or small and to remember that the vet seeing your cat for a routine checkup may have just lost a puppy to parvo virus an hour before and has given up their lunch hour to cry with and console a grieving family.

Next time you are at the vet try asking them how they are today. Let them know you appreciate what they do and that their efforts do make a difference. Even a few kind words can make a huge difference in their day.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

My name is Tracy Leal from Simi Valley, CA. I have been married for 23 years and a mom to 3 teenagers, 3 bunnies, 4 dogs, 2 parakeets and 2 goldfish. I am currently about to enter my final semester to earn my AS degree and then will be pursuing an RVT education.

In every walk of life one thing is guaranteed. Mistakes will be made. This is true in so many professions, but in veterinary medicine can be be considered almost taboo.  We’re a field of overachievers. Type A personalities. Perfectionists. That doesn’t stop mistakes from happening in this field. But it does magnify the effect they have on us. When we screw up, animals can die. That is an insane amount of pressure. So often when we make a mistake, we beat our selves up more than anyone else ever could.

One of my favorite patients in the field was Tonka. He was a wiry haired terrier mix who had been diagnosed with lymphoma. He would come in for chemotherapy wagging his tail and would promptly try to rip out his IV catheter. His owners were extremely dedicated to giving Tonka a chance to beat cancer. They did whatever they could to keep him happy. They also happened to be  the nicest clients ever. Always smiling. Always appreciative.

One day Tonka came in for the vincristine portion of his chemotherapy protocol. Whenever I saw him on the schedule I would announce “My boyfriend is coming to visit me today!” I would get him all set up in his house after he gave me kisses and begin to prepare the supplies needed to administer his chemo treatment. I’d done this many times before and we had it down to a science. I would calculate his dosage, place an IV, give him his injection and then in a couple hours he could return home.

I had always been taught that once you give an injection, you can’t take it back. I double checked and triple checked my math like I did every time. I pulled up the injection and gave it. Then I walked out to write up my notes for treatment in his chart. I opened his chart and the white hot feeling of dread shot through me. I had just given “my boyfriend” twice his dose for chemotherapy. So inside I freaked out and immediately told the overseeing doctor what had happened. She grabbed Plumbs and began scouring it for potential side effects. I called an internal medicine specialist friend of mine and begged for help. What did I just do? We came up with a plan for treatment and initiated it. I then walked out the back door and began dry heaving.

When Tonka’s owner came in to pick him up I was absolutely petrified. I was nauseous, sweating and on the verge of an anxiety attack. I had every intention of walking into the room, explaining what I had done and explaining how we were going about fixing it. I walked into that room, looked his owner in the eyes and broke down crying. I apologized and tried to explain what happened in between sobs. I said I understood if they no longer trusted me with his care.

His owner looked at the sniveling ball of tears I was and reached out and hugged me. I sobbed harder. She took my hand and told me that she knew in her heart I would never intentionally do anything to harm Tonka. It was a mistake. We would get through it. Together. I couldn’t believe that a human being, and Tonka would be so willing to forgive me. He endured his treatment for the chemo overdose and actually went into remission for awhile. All through out this, his owners still asked for me to care for him. We even built an unlikely friendship.

Sadly, Tonka ended up losing his battle to cancer. It was a sad day when I heard that my boyfriend who’d taught me so much about forgiveness and compassion had passed. Tonka’s owners continued to come to us with their other pets. I even attended their wedding recently.  This mistake truly touched my life and let me know even though it sucks to admit that I screwed up badly, growth comes from our mistakes. In our darkest times beauty, kindness and compassion can emerge and change us. Thank you Tonka for teaching me one the most important lessons in this profession. Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself. I know you’re giving em hell at the Rainbow Bridge.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jade is a licensed technician of 9 years who lives in Port Orchard, Washington. She enjoys emergency and critical cases, dentistry and creating a bond with her clients and team. During her off time she is busy keeping up with her two crazy Basenjis!

On August 24, 2016, a fear of mine became a reality. I have had this fear ever since veterinary technicians set out to explore our options in uniting our title and possibly being called “Veterinary Nurses”.

“I’m sorry lady-at-the-vet, but you are not a nurse.” On a popular nursing blog, a registered nurse (RN) posted this thought about a receptionist’s use of the term “nurse” to refer to a staff member at her vet’s practice, and I felt hugely deflated upon reading the page. The premise of her argument was that nurses go through specific education and training that is physically and emotionally taxing, taking them away from their families, finally passing their board exam to become licensed; only those with this specific badge of honor (of which she is rightfully proud) deserve to be called a “nurse”.

When the veterinary community caught wind of this article, the comment section exploded… almost literally. Veterinary technicians, veterinary nurses, veterinarians, and even former veterinary technicians now working in human medicine expressed their opinions regarding the author’s comparison between a “nurse” and the “lady-at-the-vet”.   Both the original post and quite a few of the responses from the veterinary community make one similarity (among many) between our fields clear: RNs and vet techs don’t know that much about one another.

We all feel pride for our profession

Let me first say, that I feel the same pride for our profession as you do, and felt the same frustration at the blog author’s lack of recognition for the education, the examination, and the maintenance of credentialing that we achieve, and the role we play within the veterinary team. I also took pride from the excellent examples of veterinary nurses and technicians taking this opportunity to provide the author information regarding our profession, including the comparable challenges we face with title protection and recognition for the education, training, and commitment we make to the profession. These comments inspired me.

The comments that were disheartening to me were the ones that lobbed insults, were mean-spirited, or demeaned the nursing profession. Veterinary technicians and veterinary nurses are professionals with compassion and understanding, and we should not have to resort to insults to make a point.

“We do way more than RNs” is a common comment made which displays our lack of understanding of the nursing profession. The nursing profession has a significant number of degrees and certifications for specialization that can be achieved leading to in-depth knowledge in those areas. It is true that the day to day activities of the average veterinary technician are generally broader in scope than our counterparts in the human field, but specialization cannot be equated with “doing less.”  As an example, is a high school chemistry teacher doing less than a 2^nd grade science teacher?  Human nurses deserve just as much respect as we are demanding from them.

Additionally, whether we like the author’s delivery or not, it is the truth that 39 states have the title “nurse” protected for use by those who obtain the specialized training to become an RN. Fortunately, some of those states will allow the title “veterinary nurse” and “nurse” to co-exist without conflict, giving us 26 states in which the title “veterinary nurse” is implementable.

There are valid arguments in there

At the same time, we techs want to emulate the strong title protection that RNs have, We know the feelings this author is expressing, probably more acutely!  Non-credentialed persons calling themselves veterinary technicians have been a consistent problem for our profession. After having gone through 2 to 4 years of schooling, passing the national board exam – the Veterinary Technician National Examination (VTNE), and meeting additional requirements to finally become a credentialed veterinary technician, it can be infuriating that someone not having gone through the same level of education and training would use the title.

To be fair, what if this angry nurse was right, and the individual in question really was a “lady-at-the-vet”?  We have no way of knowing if she does have credentials.  Should we be angry at this potential “veterinary nurse” imposter?  Angry at the nurse for not seeking out a facility with known standards of care?  Angry at the vet for their hiring practices?  Anger appears to be the wrong answer – not only will it not bring about a solution, it’s hard to know where to even direct it, because we don’t have enough information, which is where all the trouble with this RN’s post begins and ends.

Heather Prendergast (co-chair) and I met with a nurse from the National Council of State Boards of Nursing who kindly explained how their profession united their credentials and continues to work towards standardizing requirements. When we asked for her opinion on the title change to “veterinary nurses”, she was at first surprised, but then started asking questions about our education, credentialing process, and scope of practice to learn more. We happily educated her about veterinary technology, and the meeting ended favorably – she gave us advice on who else to contact on the topic and offered help.

Through discussions, the prevailing message from the nurses is loud and clear. Being a nurse, is a calling. It is a profession. A way of life. The nurses call for those using the title to uphold the highest of standards in professionalism, education, training, and patient care.  It’s on our shoulders to prove that we meet these standards.

We have work to do

The way to achieve our goal of uniting the profession under one title and standardized credential requirement is by being responsible professionals. Each of us have the ability and duty to continue educating members of the public, the veterinary team, and nurses of our profession to improve awareness of our role. Join the conversations and efforts. Contact your national and state veterinary technician associations to voice your opinions.

We urge you to rise to the occasion and learn more about the issue. With collaborative movements such as the One Health Initiative uniting human and veterinary medicine emerging, cohesiveness of medical professionals is a part of the future. Represent us as professionals, making valid arguments for the decisions we make so that we continue to elevate the value of our title.

So the ball’s in our court, veterinary technicians/nurses. How will we gain the recognition we deserve?

National Credential Task Force
Kenichiro Yagi, BS, RVT, VTS (ECC, SAIM)
Haven Bade, LVT, VTS (ECC, Anesthesia and Analgesia)

For official information regarding the National Credential Initiative, please visit www.navta.net. Web conferences updating our findings thus far are planned for the month of September and October, to be followed by a veterinary field-wide survey on the topic. Have your voice heard.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the DrAndyRoark.com editorial team.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kenichiro Yagi, BS, RVT, VTS (ECC, SAIM) practices at Adobe Animal Hospital in California as an ICU and Blood Bank Manager. He is an active educator lecturing and providing practical instruction internationally, and has authored texts, chapters, and articles on transfusion medicine, respiratory care, and critical care nursing. He serves on the board for the Veterinary Emergency and Critical Care Society, Academy of Veterinary Emergency and Critical Care Technicians, and the Veterinary Innovation Council, and as the NAVTA State Representative Chairperson and a co-chair of the NAVTA National Credential Task Force. Ken invites everyone to ask “Why?” to understand the “What” and “How” of our field, and to constantly pursue new limits as veterinary professionals.

//www.linkedin.com/in/kenichiro-yagi-a89b3897

When people learn that I am in veterinary school their faces light up and they say, “Wow! Good for you!”

I live in a college town with an excellent vet school, so they assume this is where I go when they ask the next question: “Here at in town?”

This is the part I dread. I couldn’t figure out why at first, but I think it’s because of what happens next. I say with a broad unwavering smile, “No, actually I go to school in the Caribbean.” I pause, hoping they have heard of it. 99.9% of the time they haven’t. And the other percent has heard of it, and sometimes they’ve heard bad things.

Now you are probably wondering how I know the judging is happening. A lot of people ask me about school, and some of the braver ones then say, “Why didn’t you just go here?” I literally live in this beautiful town with a beautiful school and I have a house and a husband and a dog and I chose to go to a school 3985 miles away. It takes me 36 hours of travel to get there.

How do I describe this without being snarky? I can’t. I tried to get into veterinary school here in town. I didn’t get in.

Now if I just say that, which is the honest truth, then there is a question in your mind (admit it, you are human): “Well, if you aren’t good enough to get into school there then why are you in school? You must be one of those knock off vets, right?”

I cannot tell you how wrong you are. But it’s a simple judgment that a lot of people make.

Even the veterinarians I had worked with side by side for years made the same judgments. I have a very diverse background. I worked here and there and tried with all my might to be a good applicant. Eventually I got a job as a technician at a wonderful practice that took a chance on me as one among many college graduates trying to “get experience.” Those years are some of the best of my life where I learned what being a vet was all about (or so I thought… I’m still learning), made some amazing friendships, and had the opportunity to meet some incredible mentors.

I remember throughout all the years of attempted and failed applications to school they would always stand by me and say, “Next year, I know it.” As I was getting close to giving up completely I had one last bit of fight in me and I applied one more time. Even I was tentative to click on those Caribbean schools and spend that extra 300 dollars to increase my chances of getting into ANY school.

Looking back on that moment I even thought that the Caribbean schools were a little easier to get into. I sold the schools, and therefore myself, short. As the days ticked down I got one rejection letter after another until I received that email from my school.

I remember this moment very clearly. I had been obsessively refreshing my email for the past month knowing that I was about to receive word from my “last resort”. It’s kinda like fat pants. You buy the pants you know there is a slim chance of fitting into (pun intended) then you also buy those pants that are a few sizes too big but you know that you HAVE to fit into. It would be like if those fat pants didn’t fit either. That is the kind of disappointment I was facing at this point.

Anyway I finally got the email from admissions. DEAR MRS. ROOLEY…. (how every single rejection letter starts) I was too afraid to open it. I was sitting on my couch that day, binge watching Netflix, nervously fidgeting around and I just started sweating when I saw the email. Will these fat pants fit? I wonder. I send up a word. PLEASE oh PLEASE oh DEAR PLEASE. Click.

Dear Mrs. Rooley (oh dear)

We are excited to inform you that you have been selected for an interview…

I didn’t even read any more. I started to cry. No, not cry. Sob! I called my mom, still sobbing and through the gurgles. I did it! This pure elated joy came so quickly, but to my dismay also left just as fast. As soon as I got off the phone with my mom I thought. But, I wanted the skinny pants to fit… and this is where it started.

At the time I was just a newbie to the realization of getting into a difficult program, I didn’t realize the pure amazingness of this. Instead of reveling in the magic and the hard work I started to fret. I cared way too much about what people thought, even though they didn’t have that experience. And this just built and built over time.

The first vet I told was my absolute favorite and mentor.  The response? “ Oh…” death pause “Wow. Good for you.”

Not the reaction I was hoping for. Maybe I would try someone else.

Doctor #2. “Oh, I knew I guy from a Caribbean school. He didn’t pass boards.” Oh dear… oh dear. Then I just decided to not say anything.

Far from the elated joy and embrace I imagined from these important people in my life, I felt very crushed and defeated before I even embarked on one of the hardest journeys of my life. I felt so judged, unaccomplished, second hand, and worst of all stupid. There is nothing that any medical student human or animal hates more than being made to feel stupid. So I had this weird disgruntled emotion about Caribbean schools before I even went.

And boy was I wrong. Everyone was.

One thing besides how to study that I have definitely learned in school is that I am wrong. A lot. Another thing is that this is okay, and to embrace this and revel in the fact that you are indeed learning and don’t know everything. My journey to this country is a whole other story, but to put it shortly; during my first term I was filled with so much support, courage, strength and surrounded by individuals of the same caliber I couldn’t be more proud of my school and colleagues.

Having this time to spend with Caribbean and its school I have pros and cons, just as any school.

The program is rigorous.

I know this because brilliant people surround me and we are all challenged by it everyday.

Many of us made it. Some of us didn’t.

This journey is definitely not for the faint hearted. I came to love my people and my school not only because of who they were at a core, but because of all the extra life experiences you get while attending university in a foreign country. It is all about the experience and how you as an individual make that work for you.

The veterinary community is vast yet small, and I have really come to enjoy that aspect of making connections, meeting others, and learning so much from other people in the profession. There is magic in the way that you meet someone in this profession, whether they are a veterinarian in practice for 20 years, new graduate, or a student, and there is always something to connect with. Each person is different, yet we are not that different at all.

So now when I am asked, why didn’t you go to school in the States? I answer, with a giant grin, “Why not?” I have learned so much about myself, I am incredibly humbled by my life on the island and I know that this experience is going to help me become the doctor I want to be. A kind, generous, compassionate, hard working individual that is ecstatic to have pants at all regardless of their size.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lo Rooley is a veterinary student beginning her second year of school at St. George’s University.