In veterinary medicine, the devil takes many forms, with fearful, aggressive dogs and cats serving as the most common hosts from which the demon works its evil ways. When I am staring down the raw, painful, yeasty ear of a 90-pound pitbull who wants everybody around him to feel as miserable as he does, there’s no one I’d rather have as my human shield and defender than Alvin.
Alvin (not his real name) is a fearless kennel attendant who jumps into situations that would make a grown woman cry. He has mastered the art of peace through strength, speaking calm words of friendship to dogs and cats while gripping them firmly, gently and skillfully. As a result, they often settle in and tolerate a scary exam. My confidence and trust in Alvin enable me to do my job without fear and distractions.
Good staff members are crucial to my success, so I never take them for granted, and I make sure they know they are worth their weight in gold. At our clinic, where the veterinarians are usually busy with two or three urgent cases at a time, kennel technicians are invaluable in keeping the hospitalized patients comfortable, fed, watered and walked. They alert us to anything that looks abnormal.
From Rags to Riches
I admitted a dog who hadn’t eaten or defecated in a week. Radiographs were inconclusive for a foreign body, but I explained to the client that textiles such as socks often don’t reveal themselves on radiographs, contrast studies or ultrasound. I said that if the patient had swallowed something he could pass, it probably would have happened by now.
We placed an IV catheter, started the dog on fluid therapy and settled him in for the night in preparation for the next day’s exploratory surgery. Come morning, I had scarcely put down my jacket and Yeti mug and clocked in before several kennel techs cornered me, proudly brandishing a Ziploc bag containing a stinky, twisted rag embedded with plastic pieces. Eureka! My patient had diligently defecated a disgusting foreign body sizeable enough to allow me the hope that the logjam had been broken. Moreover, the dog was grinning at me and clearly felt better.
Thanks to an observant, engaged kennel tech who gathered and dissected the fecal material, my patient dodged the surgery bullet. I cautioned the owner that the dog could have additional material in his intestinal tract, but he elected to hold off on surgery. The dog recovered, with kennel technicians sharing in the glory.
Oh, Crap!
Next, I raise my glass to toast the veterinary nurses who ride shotgun with me through thick and thin. They clean up the most horrible surgical messes. (I changed the names that follow.)
I once performed abdominal surgery on an obstipated English bulldog. I made a midline incision and manually milked the intestines from the inside via the anus externally. This procedure involved my surgery technician draping the floor in plastic and collecting the fecal material as aseptically as possible while I remained sterile above the fray. I got the better end of that deal.
Then, there was a dog neuter surgery where the patient broke with diarrhea while my technician attempted to do her sterile prep. We didn’t see it coming, but Terry fought to absorb the leak, preserve my sterile surgical field and strike another blow against Tulsa, Oklahoma’s unwanted pet population.
Back From the Near Dead
Several of our technicians are so adept at placing intravenous catheters that I believe they could hit the cephalic vein of a squirming mouse. This skill became lifesaving when I hospitalized a 3-pound Chinese pug puppy for parvovirus treatment. The clients had struggled with the home administration of subcutaneous fluids, oral maropitant citrate and metronidazole from another veterinary clinic.
Despite my repeated urging, they balked at hospitalization because of the cost. The puppy continued to vomit, and when the clients realized that death by dehydration was possible, they gave in. Several attempts were made to thread the catheter through those tiny stenotic veins, but tech Annie was victorious. With a puppy so small, postponing IV fluid therapy too long sometimes makes catching up impossible and we lose the patient, so I guarded my expectations.
The pup was much brighter 24 hours later. The effects of intravenous fluids and injectable drugs were like watering a wilted houseplant. I never get over the power of IV fluids to soften the symptoms of parvo and shorten the recovery time. A veterinary technician placed that catheter.
Kitten Season
Springtime brings a shower of abandoned kittens as clients stream into the clinic seeking care advice for the helpless creatures. Saving neonatal animals is an art; thankfully, several of our technicians have the gift. Patiently and generously, they teach clients to prepare kitten gruel. Some well-meaning clients try to tube-feed kittens without realizing how easily the formula can aspirate into the lungs. The techs instruct clients on bottle feeding, gruel feeding and turning a washcloth into a fake mother cat’s tongue to stimulate the babies to poop.
Lending a Hand
Evaluating semen from stud dogs for breeding purposes was a dying art at our clinic until technician Jason joined us a couple of years ago. I quickly discovered that he was no stranger to semen collection when my request for assistance was met not with a blank stare — “You want me to do what?” — but with the calm deliberation of an experienced pro.
Semen evaluation consists of manually stimulating the dog to ejaculate into a sterile plastic bag, then examining a drop of semen under a microscope to ensure the presence of plenty of vigorous, normally structured sperm to fertilize the female dog’s eggs. The information is critical for breeders in today’s world of $10,000 bully breed puppies.
You get the picture. With good humor and a positive attitude, I softly crooned, “I’m in the mood for love,” while Jason handily accomplished our task. I believe we enjoyed it.
Teamwork
A helpful practice adopted by our technicians is “rooming” the clients. While a receptionist always takes a summary of the reason for a visit, a technician often precedes me now to perform an intake interview and record vital signs. The technician puts history notes into the computer, saving me from having to record background details. I can then add my observations and my diagnostics and treatment plan.
I am proud of our staff members and encourage them every chance I get. If someone is learning to take a detailed history and does a good job, I tell them. I never forget that I’m their leader and that my words hold the power to hurt or encourage. Anything I notice and thank them for translates to their pride in taking the best care of our patients. Even more, it shows my respect for the work they do. I want them to know that animal husbandry is paramount and every task is important.
Many of us have done every one of the tasks I described, beginning with feeding animals and cleaning cages. For me, that foundation has been fundamental to gaining credibility with my co-workers and demonstrating the value of building a veterinary medical career one step at a time.
FOR RECEPTIONISTS
Three veterinary industry veterans — Dr. Jill Clark, Debbie Boone and Rhonda Bell — have co-founded a nonprofit group: the North American Association of Veterinary Receptionists. “Through NAAVR, we aim to provide educational resources, networking opportunities and recognition programs that will help veterinary receptionists thrive in their roles and make a lasting difference in the lives of the animals and humans they serve,” Bell posted on LinkedIn. Learn more at naavr.com.