My cat has been getting into fights with a three legged Main Coon that lives two doors down. This past Saturday morning I noticed he was limping and refusing his breakfast. His nose was warm and he slept the entire day. I had to be gone for most of the day; but when I returned in late afternoon I called the local veterinary hospital, to see if I could get an appointment for the following day. I was worried that his paw might be broken or sprained. I became slightly irritated because the receptionist kept asking me for all of my personal information, ignoring that I just wanted to know if they could fit my cat into their schedule. To my surprise, she said that I could bring him immediately.
When I arrived, the staff were not in the least bit friendly. While I was filling out paperwork, the vet tech took my cat to get x-rays. I waited and waited, wondering why it was taking so long to simply take an x-ray. I was anxious to join my cat in an exam room and speak directly to the doctor. That never happened.
Several minutes later the technician returned with my cat telling me, “The good news is that nothing is broken or sprained.” He had sustained an abscess underneath his arm, which they had drained. She handed me an antibiotic and also a drug in salve form to apply to the wound. I had already started giving my cat colloidal silver, suspecting infection due to his warm nose. Had I been able to discover the abscess myself, I would not have had to pay for x-rays and could have perhaps treated it at home. If I had been allowed to accept or reject their treatment of drugs and actually talk to the doctor, I could have avoided their exorbitant prices. But as with most veterinary clinics, payment is required at the time of service. I paid the $214 bill and was then coldly dismissed by the receptionist as she handed me my receipt.
I had a similarly frustrating experience a few years ago, during COVID. I had a 14 year old cat who had been quite sick. I was required to sit in my vehicle and wait for an unreasonably long time. Finally, a staff member came and took him inside. I had to wait, in my truck, for a phone call from the doctor after she had examined him. After another interminably long time, my cat was returned to me, along with a bill for which I had to promptly write them a check.
Many years earlier, when my youngest daughter was only eight years old, I had to take her to a dentist for a root canal. She had fallen face first on her bicycle and her front tooth had fallen out. I was not allowed to go into the treatment room; but was told to sit in the waiting room – where I could hear my daughter screaming from the pain. Later that day, she showed me that the dentist had done the root canal on the wrong tooth! To this day, I have not forgiven myself for not suing that doctor for his negligence and even more so, because I still paid his bill. I was a single mother at the time and did not realize that a sense of victimhood actually strips us of our power.
The caring, country veterinary doctor we are familiar with, from James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small, which also became a popular PBS series, is a thing of the past. Still, I will continue my search for such a doctor because relinquishing my pets – my family members – to complete strangers, is ludicrous.
