Case in point: The client I referred to a local internist yesterday. After explaining that her dog required a higher level of care than I could provide, I sent her to see my favorite internal medicine diagnostician with caveats in hand about expenses, wait times, etc. Immediately after her visit to the specialist (she was still in the hospital's parking lot), she called me on my day off to complain about the guy I sent her to see. Here's the list:
1) He couldn't tell me what was wrong with Fluffy.
2) His staff wanted me to pay as soon as I agreed to the estimate for the tests he wanted to do.
3) I won't be allowed to be next to Fluffy during all the tests.
4) He was kind of curt when I complained.
Granted, my preferred internist can be somewhat gruff at times. But it's also pretty clear that the client's expectations were unreasonable. So here's where I get to my point:
A vet with a brilliant bedside manner can usually set anyone at ease on the first three points. After all, it's only a matter of explaining why the policies are in place and pointing out the obvious: "We're trying our hardest to find out why Fluffy is sick. Unfortunately, her situation is complicated and we need to run tests. I know you understand that — otherwise Dr. Khuly wouldn't have recommended that Fluffy see us."
But all that is easier said than done. When an owner is being (even understandably) demanding despite your every attempt to relax him/her, it's easy to get annoyed and abandon the bedside decorum you know would serve you — and the pet — best.
Which brings me to my next point:
It's really hard for vets to keep it together 100% of the time, and for some vets it's tougher than for others. Some of the best vets I know, clinically speaking, don't always handle clients really well. Yes, they can seem "curt" at times.
In fact, that's sometimes why vets go into specialized medicine. They prefer a more academic, scientific path. They want to take on more challenging cases that require more patient-specific face time. Compared with generalists like me, they don't usually value spending time easing your mind and making sure you're satisfied. In many cases they're well aware they don't have the patience or the skills for the human side of their practice.
But does that mean they can't do what needs to be done to cure Fluffy better than anyone else out there? Nope.
When I go to a specialist for my own health care, I know I'll be waiting longer in the waiting room. I know I'll be paying more. And I definitely know that my doc won't appear to care about me as much as my general practitioner does. Of course, I expect explanations and an answer to every question I ask. But I don't expect a stellar bedside manner.
In my case, even the general practitioner I've selected is a crotchety older woman with a notoriously caustic tongue. And why do I put up with it? Because I've come to learn that she's good — really good.
So why is it so hard for some clients to accept that sometimes the best vet won't be the one who will put you immediately at ease?
She won't always make you laugh. He won't typically spend 30 minutes explaining things or take the time to write his cellphone number on the back of his business card for your personal use. She won't necessarily smile or even say goodbye in a personable way. He might even lack for personal hygiene.
Nope, most won't inspire automatic confidence in the James Herriot sort of way we might like. Some vets will even treat you (almost) like dirt — as in, you're there, but she barely acknowledges you. She's all about your pet.
And isn't that ultimately what you want?
So here's my recommendation the next time you see a new vet: If you can find it in yourself to trust the person who referred you just long enough to figure out if this cranky vet's poor bedside manner is worth it, you might just realize you're in the same room with the greatest veterinarian on planet Earth: the one who has the power to fix your loved one.