Why I Love Veterinary Medicine: Reason #3

Photo Credit: Nomed Senkrad

The first patient I saw this morning came in as an emergency. The presenting complaint was “not moving”. She turned out to be a 12-year old domestic shorthair. She usually follows her owner around everywhere, always wanting to cuddle, so her owner knew something was wrong last night when she just stayed in one spot and didn’t want to get up or even eat.

My exam revealed a quiet, lethargic, febrile (T = 104) senior kitty with a fairly distended abdomen, but I found it difficult to discern what I was palpating in her abdomen. Important question I should have asked at this point: Has your cat been spayed? (We had only seen the cat at our hospital one other time, almost a year ago, for a broken foot. We’d never seen the cat for routine wellness care where we tend to address the fundamentals a little more diligently. Another reason why routine wellness care is so important! So even though her record didn’t indicate spayed, I didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t spayed or we just forgot to ask her specifically.)

I put together a treatment plan, which included comprehensive in-house blood work, a UA, IV catheterization, fluids, antibiotics and hospitalization. The owner was clearly concerned as she looked at the total of $550 and heard me say, “This is a starting point for us.”

Blood work revealed marked neutrophilia (WBC 35,000 – though I don’t remember specifics off the top of my head), elevated BUN (moderate–likely due to dehydration), hyperglycemia, and some mildly elevated liver enzymes. When I placed our ultrasound probe on her belly to collect my cystocentesis urine sample, I was a little surprised by what I saw. At first, it just looked like a really large bladder. I mean realllly large–but the bladder isn’t supposed to extend up past the kidneys! And this was more of a tubular fluid-filled structure. I stuck it with my syringe and needle anyway and aspirated 3 cc of dark green, turbid nastiness. I had just (accidentally) expressed the cat’s bladder moments before and it looked like normal, yellow pee–so clearly this material was not from her bladder.

You’d think I should be starting to think pyometra by this point, but I’m a little dense (and I always assume my patients are spayed, because they almost always are–and what 12 year old cat wouldn’t be spayed?!). I had my associate come over and take a quick look and she immediately asked if the cat was spayed or not.

When I called the owner with an update on the blood work, I of course asked her this very important question. She said no, the cat had never been spayed. I could then confidently tell her that her cat had pyometra and needed immediate life-saving surgery. Naturally, she wanted to know how much it would cost and I told her it would be about another $1000-1500.

I was afraid she would call me back with a decision to end the cat’s life, but she applied for CareCredit and was approved, so we got the green light to do surgery. Thankfully, surgery went very smoothly–better than I could have ever hoped for, really. No bleeding, no tearing, no spillage. Pretty easy, actually. She weighed a half-pound less afterwards!

Calling the owner after surgery to tell her the good news felt rewarding. We had just saved the cat’s life! But what the owner said next moved me to tears, and reaffirmed why I love to help people and their animals. I can’t repeat what she said because, although some details have been changed to protect identity and this is posted semi-anonymously, it’s still too personal in nature to share. Needless to say, this cat has seen her through some dark times, times when she felt like she had no friends at all in the world. Her cat has always stayed by her side. She felt like she had to save her. And I’m so glad we did. The kitty may be “senior” but hopefully has many, many years ahead of her.

Why I Love Veterinary Medicine: Reason #2

Photo Credit: Georgia State University Library

I love veterinary medicine because I love learning.  This quote by Mahatma Gandhi captures my sentiment best:

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”

 

I didn’t always feel this way. Ironically, while I was in school, I would say I bordered more on hating school. But school and learning are different. Vet school in particular, as they say, is like “trying to drink water from a fire hose”. It is NOT enjoyable. Vet school represents a finite amount of pain and suffering, which you must endure so you can have the rest of your life to love learning.

Even before vet school–elementary school through high school and college–I never considered myself (and still don’t) one of the “smarties” who always had her head in a book, latched onto every science show, and wanted to learn and understand everything. I only need to spend five minutes around someone who’s really smart to be reminded of how little, in fact, I know.

Except for maybe a handful of moments that occur every year, where I am surrounded by ultra-smart people who unintentionally make me feel abysmally average, I am comfortable with not knowing all that much. If I were too caught up in feeling inadequate, I would feel less motivated to learn, not more. As it is, I’ve come to love learning, and I am always learning something new every day. (Hence the name of this blog, see? )

Why I Love Veterinary Medicine: Reason #1

Photo Credit: Bernie Ledesma

The number one reason I love being a veterinarian is because I can help people and animals. As a child, I always knew I wanted to be a vet, but I didn’t really know why. Sure, I thought it was because I loved animals and wanted to help them. How many young vets-to-be picture a poor puppy dog with a broken leg, and think, “I want to save him!”

Not surprisingly, veterinary medicine is so much more than helping that poor puppy with a broken leg. It’s medicine. It’s an art. And, for right or wrong, it’s a business. A veterinarian can’t provide quality medical care if he/she doesn’t charge appropriately for it. If the practice isn’t run like a business–if it’s run like a subsidized clinic providing low-cost or even free care because the staff “just wants to help”–then no one can make a living, and the people who love animals so much will be forced into other professions where they can make a living. (And yes, this happens all the time.)

My point with this apparent digression is, there’s a person attached to that animal. And in order to help the animal, you have to help that person understand what’s wrong and how you can help. It is this exchange that allows me to learn so much about people, and humanity, and to be thankful for my opportunity to help. Because during these conversations about diagnostic and treatment options for a family’s beloved, sick guinea pig, I feel the anguish. I feel the love. I feel the anxiety about the uncertainty of the outcome. I don’t just want to help the guinea pig (or whatever the patient may be)–I want to help that family get their pet back. And if it’s not in the cards, and I can’t save the pet, then you can bet your life that those children will remember what comes next for the rest of their life. My purpose then becomes one of guidance. I want them to remember how kindly and gently their pet was treated, that their vet really does love this pet too, and that we’re saying good-bye because we love him so much.

It’s true, there are times when you can hear me say, “I hate people.” But the real reason I love veterinary medicine is because I do love people, and their animals. If I didn’t, I would be in the wrong profession.