(no subject)
Jan. 3rd, 2014 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estelraca"Do you cry when you go home? Frequently?"
Why yes.
Yes I do.
I cry because there are people like you who could save their animal and won't because of money.
I cry because there are people who cry and beg and plead with me and I can't give them what they want for free, because the ones who demand the most and promise the most are almost always the ones who never follow through on their promises for repayment.
I cry that money has to be a part of the profession. I cry that I can't do what I want to do because my techs need to eat and I need to eat and I need to pay the fucking useless government an exorbitant amount of money each month for the education that lets me do my job.
I cry because money is so much a part of the damned medical profession that I automatically think of it now, that I automatically downgrade my expectations of what can and will be done for patients because I know that almost no one will just let me do what should be done.
I cry because when people *do* let me do what I need to do I can't always fix things. Sometimes I can't even tell them what the problem is.
I cry because a woman screamed at me not to take her cat away from her, that it was Christmas, that the cat was all she had. As though I wanted the cat to be sick. As though I was the one who wouldn't take the cat to a specialist.
I cry because I remember their names. Ashes. Timber. Sara. Charlie. Simon. Kipper.
I cry because I sometimes don't remember their names. She died in my arms and I will never forget the look on her owner's face when I brought her body into the room or the tone of voice when the owner said her name but I can't remember what the name is anymore.
I cry. And I make Cat cry.
And you weren't even trying to be cruel when you asked the question. That's the kicker. At least I can get angry back when people are cruel. This? All this does is hurt. So congratulations, I guess. You win.
Maybe your cat will get lucky. Maybe it won't die of sepsis from a pyometra that I could have fixed with surgery if you let me. I hope so, because I really, really don't need something else to cry about.
Why yes.
Yes I do.
I cry because there are people like you who could save their animal and won't because of money.
I cry because there are people who cry and beg and plead with me and I can't give them what they want for free, because the ones who demand the most and promise the most are almost always the ones who never follow through on their promises for repayment.
I cry that money has to be a part of the profession. I cry that I can't do what I want to do because my techs need to eat and I need to eat and I need to pay the fucking useless government an exorbitant amount of money each month for the education that lets me do my job.
I cry because money is so much a part of the damned medical profession that I automatically think of it now, that I automatically downgrade my expectations of what can and will be done for patients because I know that almost no one will just let me do what should be done.
I cry because when people *do* let me do what I need to do I can't always fix things. Sometimes I can't even tell them what the problem is.
I cry because a woman screamed at me not to take her cat away from her, that it was Christmas, that the cat was all she had. As though I wanted the cat to be sick. As though I was the one who wouldn't take the cat to a specialist.
I cry because I remember their names. Ashes. Timber. Sara. Charlie. Simon. Kipper.
I cry because I sometimes don't remember their names. She died in my arms and I will never forget the look on her owner's face when I brought her body into the room or the tone of voice when the owner said her name but I can't remember what the name is anymore.
I cry. And I make Cat cry.
And you weren't even trying to be cruel when you asked the question. That's the kicker. At least I can get angry back when people are cruel. This? All this does is hurt. So congratulations, I guess. You win.
Maybe your cat will get lucky. Maybe it won't die of sepsis from a pyometra that I could have fixed with surgery if you let me. I hope so, because I really, really don't need something else to cry about.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-04 10:03 am (UTC)This, where a life hangs in the balance, is worse than a shitty computer with shittier Outlook.
I freely admit that I value animal life over the lives of people. I wouldn't have your tolerance and patience. There's the kicker, I think. You value the lives of these animals over your own emotional duress. You stick through with the worst humanity has to offer for a greater good. Even if you can't save a life one day, you'll go back again and again. You'll deal with the financial bullshit, the half-baked excuses, the sociopathy of clientele, and all the other small-fry pittances of your job just to keep making a difference.
And I'm sure that there are times when that difference can't be seen. That maybe you feel you didn't do enough one day, or that you utterly failed another day.
But every damn day that you do your bloody job and put up with all the hell that goes with it, you're a fucking hero.
I can only guess how you do it. You're a stronger person than I am as I'd only succumb to the endless amounts of rage. You're a brave soul, Estel.
Fuck those clients. Fuck 'em hard. Fuck 'em with a axepick. May they die a thousand times over mentally and emotionally for what they put you and their 'pets' through.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 05:34 pm (UTC)Usually I do all right dealing with clients. I hate seeing anything hurt, be it an animal or a person, and I think being empathic tends to keep things from getting out of hand. (Except for the one guy that I almost got in a fistfight with. That was fun.) I try to get people to understand what they can do better in the future without making them feel more like shit for what's happening now. And a lot of times it works.
I've gotten better at handling certain things. If someone wants to accuse me of wanting their animal to die because they won't get it treatment... that's not my fault. I do the best that I can for them. If stupid idiots want to open their conversation with me by saying "I don't trust vets", when they've slathered their cat with garlic (which can make cat red blood cells explode) for fleas, well, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make them drink.
But sometimes it just gets overwhelming, or people come up with new and creative ways to slide around whatever emotional barriers I manage to put up.
Thanks for the response. It means a lot to know there are people out there who think I'm doing good.