Guess what? No drunken hookups this weekend (you guys should be pleased) – of course, I was babysitting the nephews on Saturday night so that pretty much explains it. FYI, the little guys couldn’t be cuter if they tried.
No, instead I learned that my vet is a complete fucking incompetent (not something I ever wanted to realize). So everyone, allow me to vent for a few minutes, because I am still insanely pissed right now and need to let it out.
Picture this – it’s noon on Saturday, and I have somehow corralled my kitty into her carrier (with minimal damage done to me, woo hoo), to take her for her yearly physical. Upon arriving at the vet’s, I am greeted by the cutest boxer puppy – as a lot of you know, I was raised with boxers and love them to death – and foolishly I saw this as a good sign for the visit. Oh how wrong I turned out to be.
Anyway, so after a short wait I was sent into an examining room. I wasted no time taking my baby out of her carrier and holding her close – she doesn’t like her carrier and I wanted to relax her as much as possible. And as the nurse walked in, I made a point of explaining that P (my cat) is a) very nervous around strangers, and b) doesn’t like unfamiliar situations. So she was going to be freaked out – it was really just an FYI and ‘keep that in mind’ sort of thing.
The nurse looked at me blankly (her natural look I was soon to find out) before nodding her head, grabbing P out of my arms, and sticking her on the scale. Then she tried to take P’s temperature, and this is where P’s nervousness really became clear. P was…um…’clenching’ I guess is the correct word, and the thermometer wouldn’t go in. My response when the nurse pointed this out was simple: ‘Can’t say I blame her.’
Then the vet came in. She was new to the practice (I’ve been going to this place P’s whole life, but I tend to get a different vet each year and never really minded before – as long as they keep her healthy I’m fine), and she looked to be all of 12-years-old.
Whatever, I thought. Just let her take good care of my cat. Right off the bat she had the nurse hold P down so she could insert the thermometer, and after the discomfort of that (for P really, although I wasn’t all that comfortable watching either), we waited. And waited. And waited. It took Dr. Genius about 3 minutes before realizing the thermometer was broken. Fucking great.
Shrugging her shoulders, she patted P and said, ‘Her temperature feels fine, so let’s assume it is.’ Okey dokey. Then she went on to question me about P’s behavior recently – normal, her food intake – normal, and what food I feed her. When I told her what P eats, I was informed that it’s not the healthiest food out there. I know this of course, but P is a very picky eater and I try to do the best I can. Her dry food is very healthy, but her wet food (which she doesn’t get every day) is crap. I was told this had to change, and I agreed; P is going to turn 7 in October, and I knew I had to take a firmer hand with her. Fine, what foods would Dr. Genius recommend, I asked?
‘Um, I think we have some pamphlets on that out front.’
Oh good, I thought, she really is a moron. Looking at P – who incidentally looked like she wanted to throw up – I again made a point of mentioning that P is very shy, and obviously very nervous right now (although I was quick to reassure everyone that she wouldn’t bite or anything). Nodding her head, Dr. Genius began her examination of my little girl (shut up). As if to drive my point home YET AGAIN, the nurse actually giggled while Dr. Genius was looking at P’s eyes and said, ‘Look’ while pointing at the stainless steel exam table, ‘her paws are sweating!’ Sure enough, P was leaving sweaty streaks on the table. She was also super shedding – another sign of nervousness.
Are we clear yet that P was probably more nervous than most cats would be at the vet? I just want to be sure. OK, moving on.
So Dr. Genius was taking A LOT of time doing her examination – she spent forever feeling for P’s internal organs – and when she finally found her kidneys (P was sort of trying to get as small as possible during this whole experience and it was making things difficult – although I would like to note that none of the other vets we’ve visited have ever had any trouble checking things out quickly and efficiently), she commented that ‘The kidneys feel a little small.’
Huh…OK, what does that mean? ‘Maybe nothing,’ she said, ‘but since P is almost 7, we could do some bloodwork just to make sure everything is all right.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ I said, being very clear that P’s health is the only important thing. I didn’t ask how much it cost – I didn’t care.
Now, P’s never had blood taken before (that I remember), so I want to be clear that I had no idea what the protocol here was. When they held my cat down and lifted her head straight up so she was looking at the ceiling, I didn’t think to object; I simply assumed this was what they NEEDED to do. And even when they started trying to stick a needle into my cat’s neck, and I felt a wave of horror wash over me, I still kept my mouth shut. But I really almost lost it when Dr. Genius – she of the incompetent EVERYTHING up until then - had trouble finding a fucking vein.
My cat looked like she was in hell. I looked like I was in hell. But I kept my mouth shut, because they needed blood and I assumed this was the only way to get it (after all, who would use the neck to get blood if there was another option – especially on a skittish cat like P – right?). In fact, I only made one noise during the whole thing, and that was when Dr. Genius finally got the fucking needle in. The instant she pushed it in, P’s tongue sprang out of her mouth. Now let me be clear here – I’ve never seen P’s tongue pop out like that. It looked like she was being strangled. So I whimpered, feeling her pain. And do you know what that MOTHERFUCKING vet said? ‘Oh, she’s just being dramatic.’
EXCUSE ME? Did you just tell me my CAT was being DRAMATIC, you incompetent piece of SHIT? My cat does not know how to be dramatic – she’s a fucking ANIMAL! Now I don’t have a medical degree or anything, but if I had to guess I’d say she’s fucking terrified right now, and I’d also guess that there’s a VERY good change that you just stuck that needle into something you weren’t supposed to, you inept BITCH! You WASTE OF GODDAMN SPACE!
But I kept my mouth shut – she had a needle in my baby’s neck after all. And finally (it seemed like years later) Dr. Genius removed the syringe. And left…there was blood all over P’s neck. I was horrified. But Dr. Genius just looked at it and said, ‘Oh don’t worry, she’ll clean that off herself.’
Honestly, I didn’t know what to do at this point. My jaw was just hanging open, I felt sick to my stomach, and all I wanted was to get out of there. I couldn’t even think of words (and that never happens to me) – I think I was in shock. But the rage, the real ANGER only came when the nurse casually commented (after P had gotten a vaccination in her back leg – which she took like a champ by the way), ‘You know, maybe next year we should take the blood from her back leg instead.’
Excuse me? WHAT?! You restrained my cat and took blood from her NECK (badly), when you could have gotten it from her back leg? Knowing how terrified she was, you chose to do THAT rather just take it from a place far from her face? How COULD you?! If I had known there was any other option, I OF COURSE would have chosen it. Any MORON could have figured out that was a better choice. You ASSHOLE!
I just...saw red. I STILL see red when I think about it.
And right then I realized that I needed to get out of there. Quickly, or I was going to do something horrible. So I gathered P up, paid the bill, and ran. I was literally shaking by the time we got back to the apartment. All I could do was pull P out of her carrier, hold her close (for as long as she would let me), apologize for putting her through that, and wonder which of us was more traumatized by the events of the day. Considering she was jumping around and being naughty just a few hours later, I’m pretty sure I was.
In fact, I’m still…I’m still SO angry about this, I can barely tell the story now. So let me just conclude with this – I hate that vet, I hate the place where she works, I will NEVER go back there and I hope that bitch gets her license taken away. How dare people who are supposed to be taking care of animals treat them with such disrespect? Incompetent assholes.
OK, vent over. Thanks for listening (assuming you actually made it through that whole thing).
