Thursday, September 25, 2003
Roomful of Slobbering Saps
Our wonderful Wednesday Clinical Orientation class turns out to be more orientation and less clinical than I initially expected. So far our lectures covered our future careers/goals, professional ethics, cat and dog breeds and this week a debate between the "warm fuzzy" and "cold prickly" camps.
Yesterday a social worker (who works full time for the UI Small Animal Clinic) spoke to us about pet loss and bereavement. She was a warm fuzzy, and also a self-proclaimed High-Maintenance Owner (HMO) who implied that her role as a counselor to shocked, anxious and/or grieving pet owners is quite indispensable. She warned us that she may have to leave the lecture if she was paged for a trauma. She talked about how important her job is, and how she gets paged in the middle of the night. She proceeded to talk about her dog with cancer for about an hour, and then spent another hour telling tear-jerker stories about people who lost their beloved pets. Then for another 30 minutes, we watched a poor production-quality video of some middle-aged guy, Art, talking about his serious bout with depression after the loss of his little terrier, "Dusty."
During this whole presentation, the class was splitting into two camps:
Warm Fuzzy, DVM:
- Cried through all the sad stories, some blew their noses (loudly) and some even said (repeatedly) "How sad. . .oh my God, that is SO sad!"
- Felt bad for Art and thought his veterinarian should have called to check that he was "okay" after losing Dusty
- Feel that people have trouble grieving pets because less support is offered by family, friends and the community than if grieving a human--and/or people don't allow themselves to grieve a pet
- Feel it is appropriate and good business to offer emotional/morale support to grieving clients
Cold Prickly, DVM:
- During the sad stories crossed their arms, leaned back in their chairs and either yawned or rolled their eyes
- Thought Art was a big whiner and had other issues that brought on the depression
- Don't think that consoling clients is part of the DVM's job
- Feel that if family members in people hospitals don't get personal counseling, neither should pet owners
. . .And then there were the in-betweeners, like me, who leaned back and crossed the arms during the sad stories, but sniffled a bit. . .
Art made a good point in his speech that men of his generation were taught to hold emotions in, that "Men Don't Cry" et cetera, and this is definitely an issue for men of his age that rears its ugly head beyond the scope of pet loss; it's a bigger issue that has roots deeper than the average veterinarian, or even social worker, can manage. These men need therapy.
So what
is the vet's job when it comes to supporting distraught clients? It's up to each individual vet, I guess. I don't feel we are obliged professionally to offer morale support, yet as a person with a soul, I think it's only kind to offer a kind word or reference to "pet loss counseling" when a client is in obvious need. No, you don't want to offend a stone cold logical non-warm-fuzzy pet owner, but a vet with decent interpersonal skills can recognize the appropriate time to mention the availability of such services.
I've worked in a large practice with several vets under one roof and noticed that pet owners who need the warm fuzzy vet gravitate toward such vets and re-schedule with them. The stone cold logical pet owners gravitate toward the more straight laced logical vets. I guess things work themselves out that way--the right vet for the right person and vice versa. As with running any small business, it's good to keep an open and diverse mindset with your approach to dealing with clients. Likewise, it's important to keep a diverse staff, with varied personalities and communication styles. And don't forget the veterinary technicians who often take on the role (officially or unofficially) of the warm fuzzy, because, like nurses, they often have more contact time with patients and their "families."
West Nile Survivor?
Tuesday a Great Horned Owl came into the Wildlife Medical Clinic and was assigned to our team. It was very dehydrated, lethargic with weak legs, and its left eye was shut. We suspected trauma or nuero problems.
It was also leaning to its left side, and bearing its weight on its left wing since it couldn't hold itself up with the legs. But it was alert and pretty reponsive.
To treat a raptor with its wonderfully strong wings and sharp talons, we put it in a burrito wrap:
Undignified, I know, but we have good intentions. . .
We gave it fuids subcutaneously (under the skin) in the loose skin between its legs. We aslo gave it an injection of some anti-inflammatory and hand fed it some thawed mice. Since birds stress out so easily when handled, we couldn't keep him restrained for very long.
Wednesday
Looking better!
Melissa, one of my teammates, performed a West Nile test and got a "faint positive" result--which means that the owl may have had West Nile in the past, but got over it, or did not get sick from it.
Optholmic exam was normal, so his eyes are fine--the squint might be due to a nuero problem.
Thursday
Looking good, eating a mouse and drinking water:
You can barely see the mouse in its mouth--look for the long pink tail.
Taking a drink from a spray bottle
It's definitely more fiesty and responsive today, and he cast a pellet (normal regurgitation of undigested mice bones and fur) so hopefully that is a good sign.
