Recording artists remix stuff all the time. As an example, I'm listening to several different remixes of Michelle Branch's song "Breathe" right now. If they can do it, why can't I? I'll try to rewrite the brilliance that was lost to the void of cyberspace, thanks to something going awry in Typepad.
Of course, it's been a week since I've wrote anything at all. Has anyone missed my ramblings about veterinary clinics and substitute teaching? I do not know if I have amassed any "regular" readers yet or not, but if I have they sure aren't commenting on any regular basis. That's supposed to be a not so subtle hint. Comment!
I've seen two cases that made me think recently. It wasn't a mind-stretching exercise in thinking, though. It wasn't like I had to recall the sequence of events in glycolysis or remember the differential diagnoses that could result in an anemic patient. One case made me think about how people interact with their pets. Another made me think about how I will react to my own pets' illnesses and issues after I become a veterinarian.
I believe that pets are much more a part of the American family today than they were twenty years ago. There have been plenty of studies that prove me right. It can be evidenced by the difference in the dollar amount spent on American pets today versus any point in the past. This is why I don't understand how one "Harley" became a Boxer with a broken leg, and for a short time, no owner.
"Harley" came into the clinic a week and a half ago as an emergency case. He had the unfortunate luck to have a run-in with a car. As the case most always is, the car won the tangle. A ton or so of metal versus a sixty pound dog, and it's not hard to see why. Unfortunately for "Harley," his owners were unable (or unwilling?) to pay to have him put back together. His superficial injuries would likely heal over with scabs in a couple weeks. The larger problem was the broken rear leg. The break was severe, and if it was allowed to mend on its own, he would certainly not have use of his leg. The doctor agreed to hospitalize the dog overnight, pending the owners get in contact with the clinic about what they wanted to do, and provide the funds to do so.
Time passes...Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday...finally Friday arrives. In the meantime, several calls were placed each day to the phone numbers that "Harley's" owners had given to us. No answer! "Harley" had not had any visitors either. Poor guy, I bet he just doesn't understand why his owners left him in some metal cage with bars on it, where no one gets the time to play with him. By Friday, one of the doctors had a thought of pure genius. He called the owners from the third line, the line that does not identify itself to caller ID systems. Surprise, surprise...someone answered!
I was not there for the conversation. I only heard about it after the fact, as when I came in, "Harley" was already in surgery. Knowing that we had been unable to reach the owners, my first question was, "What happened?" With an annoyed look from the doctor completing the surgery, I found it easier to obtain information from one of the other staff members. Apparently, when the person answered the phone, it was not the owner, but the owner's roommate. The owner was sleeping. The doctor told the rooomate to, "wake him up, it's important." When the owner came on the line, questions were asked that tried to find out exactly what the owner had in mind for care of "Harley."
It became blatantly obvious that the owner was not planning on coming by to do anything about "Harley." Essentially, he'd abandoned his dog at the clinic, leaving the responsiblity to someone else. I find this completely irresponsible, but probably for the best. I have a feeling that the owner would have sooner let "Harley" die that fix him. After a professional, yet heated, discussion, "Harley" momentarily became an orphan, as the owner gave up custody of the dog. A few minutes after the phone conversation ended, one of the other doctors took custody of the dog. There had been some rumors in the clinic that a doctor wanted the dog. I was glad to hear that "Harley" would get a good home after all.
"Harley" became "Marley" and is continuing to recover at the clinic. He's figured out that whining doesn't work to get our attention, but barking does. So, he must be feeling better. He still hobbles around on three legs for the most part, but he's been seen testing out the repaired leg occasionally. He's gotten a "home" in the back of the hospital, though, as the barking is incessant. He will be quiet for about five minutes if music is turned on for him, but that's a temporary fix. I think he's one of those dogs that likes to bark just to hear himself bark.
Coincidentally, the other case that made me think was that of an animal with a broken leg too. I know even less about this case, as it was being finished up when I came into the emergency clinic last weekend. It's the policy of the emergency clinic not to allow owners behind the exam rooms. There's a row of five exam rooms that all lead out into either the reception area on one side or the hallway with the pharmacy on the other. Behind the pharmacy is the treatment area, where we do the real work of emergency medicine. There is simply too much of a liability to allow owners back there. Most owners are used to being able to see their pets' treatment at their regular vet. On the occasion that someone wants to come back with me out of the exam room for whatever reason, I simply state that "For insurance purposes, I'll have to ask you to remain here. I'll bring "Fluffy" right back to you," or something similar to that.
So, imagine my surprise when I walked in last weekend to find not one, but two, people not in scrubs that I did not recognize in the treatment area. They appeared to be a couple. Dr. W was standing over an anesthetized patient, a little white dog, working on a splint/bandage combo for the dog's front leg. Once again, I found out about the case after it was over. The couple that was there that I did not recognize were a PAIR of veterinarians! They had rushed their dog into the emergency clinic to get the splint and bandage redone on his leg. The little white dog turned out to be a land-shark (definition: very bitey dog; evil beast!), and attempted to bite Dr. W. I understand that animals in pain have a higher tendency to bite, but that still doesn't make it any easier to accept when they're sinking their teeth into your hand. Trust me.
Once the dog left, there were a few more phone calls from this lovely pair. They had so many questions, and seemed so completely needy. Eventually, they brought the dog back for a second time, and for the second time, they by-passed the normal order of things by getting taken directly to the back of the hospital. This started to annoy the other doctor on duty that afternoon. There was a stack of clipboards with charts that needed to be seen waiting, and this couple was able to get the doctor's attention before patients that had been waiting, some up to thirty minutes already.
I don't know how the case ended. I know that we did not hospitalize the dog and put it on an IV drip of pain medication, though. I took the phone call where the male veterinarian of the couple asked if that was possible. What baffles me about this is that if both of these are practicing veterinarians, what in the process broke down that made them unable to care for their own dog? It's not like they had to do intestinal surgery in their living room. It was a simple splint and bandage. I am guessing they had all the materials to do this at their own clinic, wherever that was in the area. Does the emotional attachment go so deep that it's impossible to see your own pets as a patient even for simple things? Or is their an element of self-doubt and inadequacy to take care of their own pet here? Quite possibly, it's neither of the above, and it's a reason that I just do not see.
What I do see is that I have a cat of my own, and two dogs that have permanent residence with my parents. If something happened to one of them, I would step into action and do what I had been trained for so long (and paid so dearly) to do. I would offer them the best medical care that I could, and if I got to the point that I couldn't handle the case, meaning that I needed to see a specialist, then I would humbly refer the case. If euthanasia is the only realistic option for my pet, then as sad as it would make me, I would end their suffering. Of course, I wouldn't do that without giving all that I could to them first. But a splint and a bandage? I can do that now and I'm not even a licensed veterinarian yet.
I think that about covers what I had written the first time in this post. If not, oh well; no one will ever know what I didn't write except me. This week has been consumed with dealing with issues related to getting back to school. It's hard for me to believe the end of the week is here already.
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