How Biased Are You?

As veterinarians we work with all walks of life: Medical doctors, policemen, lawyers, blue collar workers, the unemployed, and the disabled. Companion animals span all age brackets and educational backgrounds.

Another night on emergency—and my first clients of the evening are a family whose children have been making a commotion in the lobby. Prior to entering the exam room, the receptionist angrily handed me a discarded shoe that one of the children left in the bathroom. When I entered the exam room, there was already chaos occurring—the children were writing on the wall with dry erase markers (of which they had to go through the drawers to find), their parents were watching the children apathetically, and a young large-breed dog lay listlessly on the exam room table, unresponsive to all the commotion in the room. This did not look good.

I politely but firmly asked for the markers back. But as soon as I took the markers, the children tried to swipe the stethoscope off my neck and began inundating me with questions. I reiterated that I needed to talk to their parents about their sick dog. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone; the children and the parents alike seemed oblivious to the severity of the situation. The dog was severely dehydrated, too weak to stand, and had neurological deficits. The owners reported that the dog sat motionless in the backyard for 2 days without moving, eating, or drinking.

I knew this was not going to be a good outcome. While I felt that blood work, radiographs, and intensive care could possibly help this dog, the odds were not in the dog’s favor. So into the back I went, in order to get an estimate together, and was astounded by the reactions of my colleagues. I listened to multiple techs and doctors complaining and making unprofessional remarks about the clients. I let it go and returned to the lobby to find the kids running around, open-mouth drinking from the water dispenser, moving chairs around in the waiting room, with the parents once again oblivious to the fact that this was all inappropriate behavior.

I then returned the family to a room and presented the estimate. The husband seemed very overwhelmed and explained that they didn’t have that kind of money. I offered Care Credit, but unfortunately his application was denied. I then explained that the best thing for their pet was to euthanize her. He began sobbing and begged me to treat his dog, who he told me was his best friend. This prompted his wife to yell at him and make sarcastic remarks like, “Ugh. It’s just a dog.” In the meantime, the children were attempting get the markers back out of the drawers to write on the walls with. I have never had a client literally beg—but he was screaming in grief and pleading with me to, “Please, please save my dog!” He was obviously in shock that the situation was so grave and was utterly distraught by the entire scenario.

This was not an easy exam room to manage—the wife was yelling at her husband, the children were still trying to destroy the room, and the patient was laying in the back suffering.

As a vet I was faced with 2 emotions: I was angry that this poor animal was in this situation to begin with, but I also felt empathy for the client. I felt particularly bad for the husband since he was clearly bonded to this animal and had no idea of the severity of the situation.

However, this family’s ignorance was enough for staff members to discredit their grief. In the back, techs were cursing the children and doctors were saying things like, “See, I told you they wouldn’t have any money…they are so stupid--I hope they don’t get another pet.” The energy was one of annoyance, disgust, and disrespect.

I found myself conflicted, since to be honest, I shared some of their sentiments. But on the other hand, I genuinely felt sorry for their situation. They were not malicious people—they did not intentionally harm their dog. And their ignorance did not take away from the fact they were getting ready to lose a family pet. But even as I was euthanizing the dog, comments like, “I can’t believe these people," and "God they are so stupid” echoed throughout the room. Some staff members even refused to sign the sympathy card!

At the end of the 3-hour ordeal, the father shook my hand and said he wished he could have met me under different circumstances and thanked me for the kindness I had shown his family. Based on the attitude in the back, I have to wonder if he would have gotten the same treatment from my fellow colleagues.

As veterinary professionals, we are faced with all types of emotions. At times, I think it is difficult not to become sinister in nature regarding people and the social impressions they leave. I am proud of how I handled this case—since I did not allow their social etiquette (or lack thereof) to interfere with my handling of this stressful situation. Sometimes I think just taking a step back and looking at it from the clients’ perspective, regardless of how unlike you they are, helps us as veterinary professionals to understand where they are coming from. Irrespective of clients’ educational backgrounds, their financial status, or other personal issues—when they are experiencing a highly emotional situation, we should give them the respect we would, do, and should give others because their grief is just as sincere, just as real, and just as raw.

Have you experienced situations or had clients like this come into your practice? How do you deal with this kind of situation personally? How does the rest of your staff behave towards people who may be different (in any way) or hold different beliefs than they do?