What a crappy day. Today, Monday, I suffered the disproportionately inflated consequences of a teeny-tiny, involuntary infraction committed over the weekend.

This past Saturday, I saw a baby kitty that had the misfortune of being hit by a car (presumably) followed by the tremendous good luck of being adopted by a loving, generous family.

This kitten received a splint. As often occurs (especially on tiny creatures), the splint was placed too tightly (by yours truly, fallible human being that I admit to being) and his toes were swollen when his family woke up on Sunday morning. Because it was Sunday the kitten went to one of the local emergency rooms. 

At the ER, the baby’s family was persuaded that the situation was a dire one and that he needed to be anesthetized to have the necessary procedures performed so that he would not lose his leg. More than $500 later, his family took him home, grateful for a good outcome but concerned about the high fee they’d had to pay.

Unfortunately, this hospital’s veterinarian abused my clients concern for the welfare of her kitten, exploiting her alarm over the size of the swollen foot in order to undertake a series of unnecessary procedures: antibiotics, pain relievers (not approved for use in kittens), and anesthetics to replace the splint. At no point was my client provided any other reasonable alternatives for how the kitten should be treated.

So now it gets even more personal: the ER doc suggested (in her report) that I placed the bandage not merely too tightly, but also improperly, and this is what led to the situation at hand (which resulted in an astronomical fee). Needless to say, my client is unhappy and wants to know what kind of financial arrangement we can agree on to resolve the issue (and I don’t blame her for taking this tack after what she’s been through this weekend).

The problem here is three-fold: 1) the patient has likely undergone a lot of unnecessary care which may still have untoward consequences, 2) the client is upset with my care and stressed out over money, and 3) I’m angry that my client has been both exploited and turned against me—over what is regarded a very common complication, nowhere near malpractice (as inferred by the ER doc`s allegedly leg-saving procedures).

If the swelling incident had occurred during work hours, I would have replaced the splint for free. Most ER docs would have replaced the splint for the price of an emergency fee, a new splint, and, possibly, pain medication if the kitty seemed ouchy (I asked a couple of ER friends today to make sure).

This vet showed no regard for any of the three concerns listed above: not for the kitten, the client, or the veterinarian who sends her the clients. But she darn well made herself a lot of money on Sunday.

What I’ve just done is considered tremendously rude and borderline unethical by some veterinarians. That is, speaking publicly about the failings of other veterinarians. In this I couldn’t disagree with them more. It’s exactly this kind of hypocrisy that befouls modern medicine’s perception of itself. I mean, why bother to preserve some quaint notion of loyalty in a profession where most professionals are willing to make money at their best friend’s expense?

Ultimately, professionals who hide their brethren’s faults risk their propagation. Just like individual people, professions are only as sick as their secrets. Pithy, but true.

Nonetheless (to hedge, because I worry someone might eventually read this and drag me to court), I feel I should clarify my policies with respect to the discussion of particular cases:

In this blog I will never mention a vet or vet hospital’s name, I will always alter clients` names, and I will often change pets` names, but I won’t ever shy away from speaking my mind when it comes to the failings of my profession and its professionals. And, to be more than fair, the first veterinary professional on that list will always be me.

Q: You know what really sucks about writing this blog?

A: If anyone reads it I am so going to need a lawyer.