Tuesday, March 11, 2003
When I spent two years (form 1999-2001) working at a suburban animal hospital, I worked with Dr. Paul Gibbons, who later went on to a residency at UC Davis (which, by the way, has a PhD residency in Wildlife Pathology that I'd love to pusue--eventually). He posted a comment on this blog that may shed some light on why vets may seem crazy to enter a profession that doesn't pay as well as "people medicine." Private practice vets are indeed entrepenuers, and often sales people; that is how they make the money to pay for their facilties, equipment, staff and salaries since pet health insurance does not cover the bulk of these costs. In academia and research, a vet can be less of a salesperson and more of doctor and scholar, basing judgement on knowledge rather than the financial limits of a client.
Here is Dr. Gibbon's comment:
In decades gone by we (vets) sold products like feeds, supplements, and vaccines. Today we make a living by selling our skills. Veterinary schools are not motivated to teach students the value of their skills.
Most of us (male or female) are motivated by our compassion and dedication rather than the realities of our capitalist society. This makes us poor candidates for running a private business and creating a profitable profession. This is one reason I am going in to academia. I need not depend on a market economy to fund my salary; I just need to be clever enough to garner the attention of granting agencies. I don't need to feel guilty about preventing my clients from taking a vacation because they spent their savings for me to patch up their dog following an automobile accident. My motivation is free to come from the basic curiosity for answering animal health questions (research) and ensuring the next generation of veterinarians respect the value of their services.
I, too, would like to work on the "big picture" animal health questions (that are often connected to or the same as
human health questions) through research, but I also enjoy working with individual animal cases and the people who come with them--I don't want to be in lab all day or an administrator for a public health department. It took me a while to figure out that educating people about their animals' health and maintaning contact with human-animal relationships doesn't have to be through private practice; keepers at zoos have deep relationships with their animals, rehabbers with the wildlife they care for, veterinary students and the animals they work with, et cetera. So there are many other avenues to consider: zoo medicine, wildlife medicine (including may favorite: pathology) and teaching.
But speaking of the "guilt," Dr. Gibbons' comment reminds me of a case we saw in the private practice setting: a woman, let's call her "Ingrid," and her turtle, "Time." Ingrid worked 12+ hour shifts at a local drugstore chain, and brought this turtle in on her lunch breaks. From what I remember, I think she had very recently found the turtle and decided to keep it as a pet.
Ingrid explained that "Time" was refusing all the treats she usually liked: fresh tomato slices, corn, lettuce, grapes. She was very concerned about her pet, and willingly paid over $80 for an x-ray to determine the problem (not including exam fees).
It turned out "Time" had an undercalcified egg in her, a soft egg that would not pass. As a result of the discomfort, she would not eat. Dr. Gibbons determined the best (or only?) treament was surgery to remove the troublesome egg. As you can imagine, turtle surgery is not simple. I found out that the "incision" alone involves a tool not unlike a miniature circular saw and several ounces of epoxy.
When I put together the estimate for the sugery expenses, the total was over $400. I reviewed the expenses with Ingrid, who looked at the sheet and with little hesitation looked at me and said, in broken English, something to the effect of: "She's sick. My responsibilty to take care of her. If she need sugery, we do the surgery." Then she explained she had to leave right away to get back to her job before she got in trouble with her boss.
As "Time" stayed at the hospital during her recovery, Ingrid came in every day during her lunch break to visit the turtle. It bothered me a bit to think that this woman who probably had to work overtime to pay rent and make ends meet just unloaded over $500 for a turtle, but then I realized it didn't bother her, and that's what mattered.
However, private practice vets do encounter people who are bothered by the cost of the pet's veterinary care, and often the first reaction I get when I explain my career aspirations is a comment on how rich vets must be and how "they definitley charge enough." I'm not really sure yet how this affects my attitude about going into or not going into private practice, but I'm sure it plays some role.
