Jessica Vogelsang DVM

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It started the moment I walked in the door to the clinic.  The inpatient I had hospitalized was not in his cage.  He had been admitted for pancreatitis two days earlier, but when he wasn’t improving after 24 hours, we had the specialist come in to ultrasound his abdomen.  The pancreas had looked normal so I felt reassured that it wasn’t necrotizing and hoped he just needed a little more time and supportive care to heal.  The ultrasound had also shown pockets of fluid in his prostate so we got a sample for cytology and culture and started antibiotics so that we could treat that once he got though the pancreatitis.

Though he was a difficult dog to handle, I was quite fond of him and his family.  They were already going through a difficult time as they had just suffered the loss of a human family member.

I kept my hopes up.

The technician probably just took him to get started on his morning treatments, I thought to myself.  I headed up to the treatment room but he was nowhere in sight.  Once the worst had been confirmed, I called his owners to tell them the devastating news—he had passed away overnight.  They were on their way to a funeral.

I had a few minutes before my first appointment and I used that time to head to the break room and cry.  Once I got myself together, I went back down to start my day.

Appointment number one—euthanasia.  I got through that and one relatively routine wellness appointment before being notified that there was a walk-in emergency that appeared to be in critical condition.

An 8 year-old springer spaniel was carried in.  She was laterally recumbent, obtunded, and breathing shallowly.  She was also covered in thousands of maggots, even in her mouth.  The elderly couple that owned her had taken her to another clinic the week prior, but didn’t seem to know what had happened there.  “They ordered her some medication from Arizona, but it hasn’t arrived yet, so she’s not on anything.”  “Does she live outside?”  I asked.   ‘Since she hasn’t been feeling well, she’s been going off to hide in the shed,” I was informed.

Mom clearly loved this dog with her whole heart, despite the fact that the patient’s presenting condition may have indicated otherwise.  It turned out the patient was a diabetic.  I advised the client of the very poor prognosis given her current condition, and euthanized her.

Not long after I finished that case, I had a recheck appointment on a patient I had seen the day prior for vomiting.  He had looked pretty good at the time so we took some blood work and treated him out-patient.  The blood results came back and I called her the news—he was a diabetic.  He was no longer vomiting so I asked Mom to bring urine with her when she returned so I could check it for ketones.  You guessed it–4+ of them.  This dog was literally Mom’s only friend on the East Coast.  Her entire support system was 3000 miles away in California.  He had to be okay.

I gave Mom a hopeful prognosis but warned that until we got the ketones out of his system there was a chance he might not make it.  We admitted him to start treatment with plans to transfer him to the emergency hospital before we closed for the holiday weekend.  He died at the ER 30 minutes after arriving.

And to top it all off, a frequent boarder, an elderly tea-cup yorkie beloved by everyone at the hospital, arrived DOA.

I shed tears several more times after my morning cry session.  And in the middle of all of this mess, when I was beginning to legitimately wonder how I was going to make it through the rest of the day, something happened.

I was bringing up a chart to the front desk when a client who was picking up medications for her dog stopped me.

A few months ago her dog had been sick.  We ran a lot of tests and couldn’t come up with an answer.  After a while the family decided they didn’t want to pursue it anymore.  The dog was continuing to decline and they felt putting her though more invasive testing wasn’t fair to her.  I understood and suggested taking her off the anti-inflammatory she had been on and putting her on prednisone for palliation.  Two days later I got a note that they had made an appointment with a house call vet for a euthanasia in a couple days.  I called them and let them know I understood and respected their decision, but to please start the prednisone in the meantime and see if it helped.  The next day I got another call.  One dose of prednisone and 12 hours had changed everything.  She was running around the yard like a puppy.

Mom and Dad have both thanked me since.  At the front desk on this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, Mom thanked me again.  “I love you Dr. Smith,” she replied emphatically.  “You gave us our dog back.  We are so grateful to you.”

“Thank you.”  I replied, tears welling in my eyes for the umpteenth time that day. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that right now.”

Even now, writing this two days later I am weeping.  A few kind words from an appreciative client saved my sanity and got me through one of the top 10 worst days of my career.  As grateful as she is to me, I am now just as grateful to her.

You never truly know what someone is going through.  How their day, their week, their year, is going.  You never know the power your words can have, so use them well.  It wasn’t my medical skills that saved that dog and brought her owners untold relief and joy—it was a phone call.  And their words were just as powerful.  When you appreciate someone, tell them.  It could just be that what seems like a small gesture to you, has an immense impact on them.

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

“Clients have such unreasonable expectations…”  If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that, I’d be a gazillionaire.  I can’t argue with you, they do have expectations and sometimes they are also unreasonable:

A client wanting you to call them with bloodwork results. Reasonable.

A client who wants to keep you on the phone for 30 minutes about the bloodwork results. Unreasonable.

A client wanting to wait in the practice while their pet has surgery. Reasonable.

A client wanting to be in the O.R. smudging sage while their pet has surgery. Unreasonable.

A client needing a follow-up call because they have a lot of questions about the diagnosis. Reasonable.

A client who wants your cell phone number so they can call you over the weekend. Unreasonable.

There are some interesting dynamics at play here. One is that in vet medicine, we are a service industry and because clients pay us directly for these services, certain expectations exist that perhaps don’t when it comes to human healthcare. So while we do have to strive to treat clients well, we also have to know when to say “no”.

We get angry, frustrated and resentful with client’s when we think their expectations are unreasonable for two reasons:

Firstly, if we have no boundaries in place then we get angry when we feel taken advantage of. But how does the client know you have 12 other clients to call, have a big surgery to do or have to pick up your kids in 15 minutes unless you enforce and communicate your boundaries? “Ms. Jones, I only have five minutes to talk but I didn’t want you to have to wait until tomorrow to get the results on Duane’s T4.”

I’ll be completely honest, YOU are the only person that is ever going to call my house to talk to me about my dog. No other person in my life is going to pick up the phone and call me just to talk about Ernie. So when you do call, I’m probably going to milk it for all it’s worth!  All kidding aside, it is your job to define, decide and enforce when that call has to end as I’m likely to keep talking to you all night about my little puggy.

I realize that may not be easy for you as you are likely a card-carrying member of the People Pleasing Club. Many in helping professions are, but that doesn’t make it healthy. You have to be ok with pissing some people off, you just have to be ok with that. If your intentions are honorable and you recognize that you too have needs that need to be met so you don’t become exhausted and depleted, then you have to realize everyone may not like it and that is ok.

This starts with being honest with clients to let them know what is acceptable and not acceptable. What is ok and not ok.

We may not want to emulate human healthcare in all ways but if you want a good lesson in boundaries, they seem to have this down. Most doctor’s offices have a sliding glass that separates us from them. How much clearer can they make it? Can you get your blood results when it’s your Dr’s day off? How easy is it to get the Dr on the phone? How long will she or he talk to you on the phone? Just observe, I’m not saying those are necessarily standards we should all aim to duplicate but can we not learn a thing or two?

Secondly, I believe we get angry and feel resentful towards client’s and their “unreasonable” expectations when we don’t claim our voice and sense of self. When we lose ourselves in helping and put everyone’s needs above our own. When we don’t feel as though our need to eat lunch or leave at a certain time to get to that painting class is a need worthy of honoring.

Consider for a second that perhaps their expectations are unreasonable simply because we haven’t communicated what their expectations should be, in a professional and kind matter that aligns with our own integrity.

You have so much more influence over this than you realize.

The truth is that clients have expectations. They expect you to care for their pets, to use your wisdom and expertise to try to heal them and to communicate effectively with them. Beyond that is well, just unreasonable.

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

Julie Squires is a Certified Compassion Fatigue Specialist & Educator who brings a unique perspective and approach to support the sustained energy and passion of animal workers. Her company, Rekindle LLC, offers on-site compassion fatigue seminars and workshops to veterinary hospitals, animal shelters and other animal organizations.

Julie has more than 20 years of experience within the veterinary field and with leading organizations where she has developed and executed trainings, workshops and 1:1 coaching. www.rekindlesolutions.com

Do we owe dogs anything other than a roof over their heads and meals?

 

Here’s a quick run down of some of the things these intelligent and willing animals do for us:

• Work as service dogs, including for vision-impaired, diabetic, and epileptic people
• Serve as emotional-support and therapy animals
• Work in our military and on our police forces
• Sniff out cancer, explosives, narcotics, allergens, and more
• Guard our property, homes, and families
• Serve on search-and-rescue teams
• Work as the best of the best ranch hands and livestock movers
• Amaze us in dog sports
• Teach us about love and loss
• Show us how to live in the moment
• Remind us to play
• Remind us not to pity our injuries and infirmities

 

One species out of all the others decided to live alongside us. Are we doing them justice? Based on my 20 plus years of working with dogs, I contend that we are failing dogs in many ways.

 

We fail dogs in many of the same ways we fail ourselves: we are in too big of a hurry. We want it all, and we want it now. We are so focused on acquisitions (knowledge, house, car, status) that we have no time left for feeling gratitude for what we do have. We are a nation full of suffering souls. Some suffer for lack of social standing while others go hungry every day. Many of us are in pain from a lack of true connection with our fellow man. And who do we turn to at the end of the day to ease our suffering? For millions of us, we turn to our dogs.

 

Most people in the United States suffer from a nature deficit. So do our dogs. Too many dogs spend their entire lives inside the walls of their humans’ homes, only going out to relieve themselves. We’re wasting our dogs’ incredible minds. Many dogs live pathetically boring lives. Do people as well?

 

Dogs are frustrated.

We want dogs to be quiet. Don’t chew on things, don’t jump up to say hi, don’t run in the house, don’t play too roughly with our under-supervised children. We ask a dog to join our family, and we expect him to love every human, except when there is a bad person trying to hurt us—then it’s OK for the dog to bite, and we expect the dog to know the difference.

 

We demand that our dogs love all other dogs, even though we don’t bother training them how to nicely greet one another, and we don’t adequately expose them to safe dogs during the critical puppy socialization period.

 

We permit puppy mills and backyard breeders to keep stressed-out mother dogs alive just to breed again so they can make some cash off of their offspring. We purchase breeds that become popular or dogs that fit into the “designer” category. Breeds such as German Shepherds, Labrador Retrievers, and Golden Retrievers become popular for good reasons, and then we make them physically or mentally unsound with rampant breeding and no requirements for good health and solid temperament.

 

We spend a great deal of our time telling our dogs “no” and “don’t.” We put huge expectations on another species, and many times these marvelous creatures step up and deliver, often at great costs to themselves.

 

A dog cannot win for losing.

Do you know what your dog wants?

Do we even care what any dog wants?

 

We tell ourselves that dogs are here to serve us, and that negates any needs or desires that they have. We once pointed to dogs as beings that we wished we could be more like: a species that lives in the present, and one that seems to love unconditionally.

 

After a lifetime of serious study of this amazingly talented and kind animal, I can tell you many of the things that dogs do want from their lives.

 

A dog wants a connection (same as you do).

 

We breed dogs to want to be around us. They love to look at our faces and eyes and are extraordinary readers of human behavior. It’s cruel to take a social animal and shut him away in a crate for most of the day or let him languish in an empty backyard or imprison him at the end of a chain. Dogs serve as a bridge. I like people who like dogs in the same way I do, even if I disagree with their politics or religion, and even if they disagree with mine.

 

A dog wants to seek.

Dogs seek first through their noses and then with their mouths and tongues. To live is to seek. When we pull and tug on a dog during his short outside time on a walk, we are depriving him of seeking. No, the dog does not need to yank your arm off. You can allow a dog to sniff and seek while keeping your arm in its joint with good, positive reinforcement training.

 

A healthy dog enjoys play.

Do you allow yourself to play? No? And you wonder why you feel frustrated? Dogs ask us questions with their bodies because they can’t talk to us in human language. They ask us what we ask of ourselves: how can I obtain pleasure and how can I avoid pain or fear? When we get a dog, we expect him to give us joy, but it is a one-sided relationship, one that puts enormous pressure on an animal with the mind of a two- to three-year-old child.

 

Dogs want a sense of control over their bodies.

How do we give dogs a sense of control over their environment? One way is to be predictable. Don’t giggle at your dog and pet him happily when he jumps up on you to say hello today and then get furious when he does it again tomorrow. Show your dog what to do instead of what not to do.

 

We can give dogs a sense of control over their own bodies when we allow them to make choices. This doesn’t mean we allow dogs to choose to go through the kitchen trash or choose to relieve themselves on the floor; it means we help them love the choices we make on their behalf because some of those choices are necessary for another species to live in our homes. What works best for both species is when the one who pays the mortgage coaches the four-legged freeloader (although he pays in spades emotionally, with his very life dedicated to his owners) in the rules of the house. There is a world of difference between taking on the role of a guide for your dog and scowling down at him in a misguided and outdated belief that he pooped on the floor to “dominate you.”

 

We have to stop living in fear. The always-intriguing NPR podcast, Invisibilia, has a great show about fear. A scientist on the show says, “Modern life is constantly triggering fear in all kinds of ways that our natural war didn’t.” Another scientist notes that things such as mass shootings are no longer novel—they are daily events, constant occurrences. He adds, “Because of our wiring, we are not set up to ignore it, so it distorts our experience of the world, activating our fear when we don’t need [it].” Fear begets fear. Fear blocks love. Fear thwarts trust. Fear will wear you and those around you out, including your dog.

 

Create more oxytocin for yourself and for your dog. Remember the study that told us that when we look into a dog’s eyes, the dog’s level of oxytocin—the “love hormone”—increases? It also increases on our side of the equation. If you can’t love the people in your office, or the politicians, or everyone who gets in your way as you fight to get to work on time, try creating love at home with a furry, friendly housemate that can’t annoy you the way other people can. If you can express only eye love (followed by heart and soul love) for a dog, I think that’s an excellent start. For some of us, that is the only love we will know in a lifetime. Love your dog, and, as you love him dearly, be a life guide and teach him how to live successfully among a rather aggressive species that his ancestors, for some unfathomable reason, nestled up to, proving that dogs are a very brave species.

 

Aren’t dogs worth the effort?

 

If we can’t reach out a hand and help ourselves very well, guess who we can help? He’s likely curled up somewhere near you as you are reading this.

 

We have to change this—the dogs cannot.

 

“Are We Failing Dogs” is modified for this space. Reprinted with permission from the publisher for the book, The Midnight Dog Walkers: Positive Training and Practical Advice for Living with a Reactive of Aggressive Dog (Lumina Media ISBN 978-1-62187-116-3) by Annie Phenix, CPDT-KA.

 

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

Phenix is a professional trainer and journalist living in Colorado. She is the Trainer in Residence for Dogster.com and writes for Dogster Magazine and other publications. For more information, visit her website: www.PhenixDogs.com

 

1)  Veterinary medicine will make you stronger. Try having an angry client yelling obscenities in your face and telling you what a horrible person you are. I am not that heartless, uncaring person. But you telling me that I am has given me a thicker skin. It has pushed me to let things roll off my back. It has allowed me to forgive your anger and meet it head on with compassion.

2) Veterinary medicine will show you how to be fearless. Try wrangling a furious feline or a five pound ball of fur and teeth, also known as a chihuahua. You may come back covered in scratches and breathless. But you survived, didn’t you?

3) You will learn to multitask like the best of them. You will eat lunch in between fully booked appointments. You will write in charts, take radiographs on several patients and talk to owners on the phone while you draw blood on the next patient.  You will make this look easy and you will do this before the doctor walks in with their morning coffee.

4) You will learn to cry. Whether its saying goodbye to a dog you’ve known since puppyhood or from the joy in watching the hit by car patient you have been nursing for weeks walk out the door. Tears will fall. You will let them. Then you will wipe your eyes and go and help the next patient.

5) You will learn to appreciate. Life is extremely fragile. You will see that life end to soon for many patients. You will see how important it is to hug the ones you love. You will see how it is necessary to be patient and forgive. Because no one is guaranteed another day or full recovery. So you will say what you feel and live every day to the fullest. You will work hard to turn back time, but realize how powerless we can be despite our best efforts.

Veterinary medicine changes us. It allows us to be the absolute best that we can be. None of us ever stop learning,evolving or growing. Though this job can take so much away from us, it also allows us to be the people we were meant to be. Everything we do in this field makes a difference. Sometimes to others, and sometimes to ourselves.

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!

Welcome back to Humans of the Clinic, our newest column at DrAndyRoark.com. Our goal is to feature a person you know through your work who inspires you in any way great or small; it can be anyone- a co-worker, a client, a teacher, a mentor, an employee, some guy you see out in the parking lot. Today, our Ann from Maryland shares the story of the veterinarian who changed her life.

“Hi Ann, this is Dr. Symonds calling.” That phone call changed my life for the better.

Don’t get me wrong, my life was just fine before that call. During that unexpected call, Dr. Symonds offered me a part time position in his practice, a couple of nights a week and some Saturdays.  No worries, we will train you to do things the way we like. I had been taking my pets to his practice for about six years since my family moved into the area. I loved the practice and loved him from the get go. He knew I had recently completed a Vet Tech Assistant program at the local college. I completed the program out of my love for dogs, never thinking I would ever seek out a position. I accepted his offer and am still a full time tech with the practice 17 years later.

I can say with complete and utter honesty that Dr. Sy, as a veterinarian, boss, mentor, practice owner, and friend impacted more lives in his life than he would have ever imagined. We lost Dr. Sy in February after an heroic 18 month battle with cancer. We lost a veterinarian that truly understood our patient’s need for our help, our client’s genuine concern for their pets as well as their ability to pay for services, as well as his staff’s needs and concerns.  He understood the meaning of compassion and he taught compassion.

He told me once that he could never imagine doing anything else with his life but veterinary medicine.  He spoke quietly and comforting to every dog and cat no matter their disposition. Dr. Sy understood when they were frightened and took care to ease their minds.

Dr. Sy understood that not every client could freely open their wallets to help their furry friends. He was willing to be conservative with treatments and tests when possible. When a pet needed an emergency surgery or procedure, he worked out a plan so that the owner could help their beloved friend.

As a boss and practice owner, I do not believe any vet could hold a candle to him. He grew a one vet, one assistant practice to a highly reputable, successful practice with seven veterinarians and a staff of 25 over 35 years. Dr. Sy showed compassion and caring towards his staff while earning the utmost respect from us. You did things right out of pride for your job and out of respect for him.

Did Dr. Sy inspire? I’m not sure the word “inspire” comes close to describing the impact he had on all those who worked with him over the years in veterinary medicine.  For lack of a stronger word, “inspire” will have to do.

Godspeed Dr. Sy, I trust you are taking excellent and loving care of our friends who have crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Submitted by:
Ann Doherty
Mountainside Veterinary Hospital
Reisterstown, MD

Help us get the word out about all the amazing people in our world! Do you have a person you want to recognize for having an impact? Send us a photo and their story at editor@drandyroark.com with “HOTC Submission” in the subject line.