Musings from the veterinary field

I will not claim to be the biggest George Carlin fan. But I do have one of his books. I am not exactly certain as to how I have one of his books, but I do. I think my mom gave it to me when I was in veterinary school. It was probably one of those "what do you get the smart-aleck college kid who thinks he knows everything?" kind of gifts. The title of the book is "Braindroppings," so I can understand her reasoning.

I am pretty certain that if my mother knew very much about George Carlin, she might have thought again about the gift. She detests obscene language and cannot understand why every movie cannot just be rated G like a Disney film. If she also knew that he would often perform some of his skits while under the influence of hard-core drugs, I am fairly confident I would not be the owner of the book. "Hard-core" in my mom's house means reaching for the Ibuprofen instead of the Tylenol.

All of this being said, in honor of the late hippy-dippy weatherman/sportscaster and wordsmith, I wanted to offer just a few observations from the field of veterinary medicine. I think I will call these observations "Animal Droppings."

First observation: Sending a boy to do a mom's job.

It is increasingly common for parents to send children of driving age to the veterinarian for the pet's examination, armed with only a cell phone and no working knowledge of why they have actually brought the pet in. Mom or dad could not come; they are at work. I understand this... I am at work.

First question: "How long has Moose been doing this?" Response: "I'm not sure... let me call mom." Second question: "Is Moose currently on any other medications?" Response: "Let me call mom." Last question: "Why exactly is Moose here?" Response: "I don't know. I only know that I am here because Mom told me the dog had an appointment at 10. Would you like to call my mom?"

I have treated a few cases of cellulitis in pets. I like to call this first scenario "human cellular-itis," but I am not allowed to diagnose conditions in people.

Second observation: Veterinarians rank somewhere between the hairdresser and the grocery store in order of priorities on people's "to-do" list.

The typical veterinary appointment is scheduled for approximately 20 to 30 minutes. This usually is ample time for a wellness exam, such as a second or third puppy or kitten exam or an annual exam with vaccinations. However, add any kind of problem to the list of things to check out on Moose, and the appointment clearly may take more than half an hour. (I schedule 45 minutes for the very first time I see a patient or any major problems. Your veterinarian can probably diagnose why your dog is vomiting a lot quicker than I can, but he most likely does not have all these funny stories to share.)

Unfortunately, no matter what the pet comes in for, people apparently think that a veterinary appointment should take no more than 15 minutes total. On more than one occasion have I immediately been asked, "Doc, how long do you think this is going to take? I have a hair appointment in 20 minutes."

On the other hand, if I need to keep a pet for a minor procedure like taking X-rays, I often will tell people that they are welcome to come back in a couple of hours. The grocery seems to be a popular place to visit in this amount of time. I occasionally hear the comment, "Whew... now I can go to the grocery! I wanted to stop there earlier, Doc, but I had to meet you for Moose's appointment."

Now, I hate to be a person that gets excited when somebody chose me over somebody else. But knowing that a client chose to come directly to my hospital vs. stopping at the grocery does bring a tear to my eye - even though I am still hurrying to get them on their way to the hairdresser!

Last observation (for today): Because veterinarians care for pets, it is assumed that they all run a bank out of their clinics.

When I go to Wal-Mart, the greeter almost always says, "Hello." Not once has she ever asked me how I planned to pay today. Furthermore, when I get to the checkout, I have three options: cash, check or credit/debit. Simple, but expected. Not once have I ever asked them to send me a bill. And Wal-Mart is a big business... I bet they could afford a couple of computers which might enable them to bill me.

Yet I am always surprised when somebody asks if we can bill them. I have worked in three different veterinary hospitals, and they have all experienced the same scenario. It does not matter if the charge was $20 or $200; people have expected that we can bill them. Veterinary practices are small businesses... they cannot afford to simply "lend" people money.

A client once asked me how I could expect somebody to pay their entire bill at the time of service. He proceeded to ask, "Don't you care about pets?" His argument was that his pet needed the procedure, so it just had to be done immediately and then paid for whenever.

I think I will try this at my beloved Wal-Mart. I will pick-up the milk and cereal for my children's breakfast, then ask them if they can just bill me. After all, people need to eat... food is a necessary item. And Wal-Mart cares for people, don't they?

Dr. Ferguson is a partner at Baker Animal Hospital in Cridersville. He loves taking care of pets and their associated people. He strongly believes "if you can laugh at it, you can live with it."