Blonde Logic
Yes. You can.
I thought I would post the letter I sent my vet.
Tonight I got home from work to find a postcard from the Vet telling me it was time for Vincent's vaccinations.
I hope they take this seriously enough to really remember, next time, to be prepared.
I am not feeling better about the vets. As some of the initial sadness lifts, I find I am very angry. So we will see what they say. THe main thing, is they LEARN from this. Nothing can change it - its over. It won;t bring Vince back. But it was done wrong. There was no nedd for it to have been.
ANyway - heres what I sent - I hope I managed to get my point across.
RE: “Vincent”
Dear
On Saturday, 27 June 2009, my husband and I brought in our beloved cat, Vincent, to be put down.
I write today to advise you of my complete and utter disappointment of our experience.
When I booked the appointment, I was told “It would be best that you have the last appointment of the clinic” and we were booked in for 11:50. This was a relief, that we were to be last seen, as its such an emotional and traumatic event, its nicer when there is a feeling of privacy, etc.
Well. We arrived on time for our appointment, and much to my surprise the waiting room was heaving. There were two families waiting to be seen, there were several people waiting to pay and leave, and there were deliveries and drop ins at every turn. It was a circus.
It took everything I had to hold back my tears, so as not to upset the families in the waiting room, as some young children were present.
We were not once acknowledged by your staff, and it became increasingly difficult to hold back tears as the minutes ticked by, and the chaos of the waiting room grew in intensity and noise.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then 20. Then 30....35.....40....45....
All we kept hearing were the secretaries commentary to others that they were having “one of those days”, and how they were disappointed they could not even have a hot cup of tea, that it had become warm. I wish those were my only problems that morning.
We had to listen to a women rattle off every known disease her cat might possibly have, which when you are sat there with a dying cat, that is most unpleasant to hear. This is not your fault, but had we been in a room, away from the masses, we would not have had to listen to this.
It was quite obvious by our demeanor that we were terribly upset. Mine particularly, as eventually, I could no longer hold back my tears, for the wait was insufferable. All I wanted was a little time, to have a few quiet moments with Vince before she left us. Also, being fully aware how much Vincent hates trips to the vets, I knew she was getting very stressed in her carrier, and I just wanted to be able to cuddle her one last time and to comfort her.
The staff was very loud which again is very discomforting at such a time. And still, they took no notice to my tears, or to ask what was wrong or if they could help.
Finally, after 50 minutes (!!!!!!) we were approached and told, “Sorry to keep you waiting, we are running a bit behind schedule and your vet has now been called to deal with something else.” I advised that 45 minutes earlier would have been a good time to tell us! To this, I was told, “I appreciate you are worried about your pet....”
It became clear to me no one on staff had a clue what we were there for. Also very upsetting. I advised the nurse, through now near hysteria that we were not “worried” about our pet – that we were there to let her go.
I must admit, this nurse was VERY apologetic, and very kind but at the moment, it meant nothing to me. I was beyond that.
She got us into a room, where an unknown to us vet, again, did not know why we were there and asked “what can I do for you?” She had not even looked at the notes. Our notes were not even on the screen.
Vincent was so frail, she required a catheter in order for the medication to be administered, so she was swiftly whisked from the room, and kept away for sometime....understandable they were having difficulty getting the catheter in her veins – but again – this was time I could not spend with her.
When the vet and the nurse came back, everything happened so fast, and Vincent was so stressed and frightened, that she fought the vet, which required them to hold her in such a way I could not be near her – I could not comfort her - or stroke her in her final moments. I could barely even see her eyes which were frantic with fear. I feel robbed of this. And it makes my heart ache that this is the way she died.
I appreciate this makes it difficult to administer the medication, but not once were we afforded the opportunity to try and stroke and calm Vincent down. The vets remarks to me were, in a rather rushed and defensive tone, “we need to restrain her. If she bites me, then I'm of no use to you”, and that was that. And while I clambered to try to get to a position I could offer comfort to Vince, the medication was given, and my Vincent was gone – without my getting a last word or even a last touch. My cat died, frightened and confused, without the touch of her people. It was not peaceful at all. And nothing anyone can do can change that now.
This was the worst veterinary experience I have ever had in all my 50 years. I am sorry you were short-staffed, and had emergencies. I appreciate these things arise. They do however, not excuse the kind of behavior and treatment we endured and the last memory I will have of my beautiful cat.
I hope this letter will be shared with the staff on hand. A little thing like being aware why customers are coming into the surgery would be a very good start to prevent such an emotionally heartbreaking experience for another family. If any animal is to be put down, they should know and be fully aware BEFORE they start their shift, so they can anticipate the customers needs for sensitivity. I found the whole experience disgusting if I am honest.
At this time, I cannot say whether or not I will return to ....... I feel completely let down.
Sincerely,
Tonight I got home from work to find a postcard from the Vet telling me it was time for Vincent's vaccinations.
I hope they take this seriously enough to really remember, next time, to be prepared.
I am not feeling better about the vets. As some of the initial sadness lifts, I find I am very angry. So we will see what they say. THe main thing, is they LEARN from this. Nothing can change it - its over. It won;t bring Vince back. But it was done wrong. There was no nedd for it to have been.
ANyway - heres what I sent - I hope I managed to get my point across.
**COMPLAINT**
RE: “Vincent”
Dear
On Saturday, 27 June 2009, my husband and I brought in our beloved cat, Vincent, to be put down.
I write today to advise you of my complete and utter disappointment of our experience.
When I booked the appointment, I was told “It would be best that you have the last appointment of the clinic” and we were booked in for 11:50. This was a relief, that we were to be last seen, as its such an emotional and traumatic event, its nicer when there is a feeling of privacy, etc.
Well. We arrived on time for our appointment, and much to my surprise the waiting room was heaving. There were two families waiting to be seen, there were several people waiting to pay and leave, and there were deliveries and drop ins at every turn. It was a circus.
It took everything I had to hold back my tears, so as not to upset the families in the waiting room, as some young children were present.
We were not once acknowledged by your staff, and it became increasingly difficult to hold back tears as the minutes ticked by, and the chaos of the waiting room grew in intensity and noise.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then 20. Then 30....35.....40....45....
All we kept hearing were the secretaries commentary to others that they were having “one of those days”, and how they were disappointed they could not even have a hot cup of tea, that it had become warm. I wish those were my only problems that morning.
We had to listen to a women rattle off every known disease her cat might possibly have, which when you are sat there with a dying cat, that is most unpleasant to hear. This is not your fault, but had we been in a room, away from the masses, we would not have had to listen to this.
It was quite obvious by our demeanor that we were terribly upset. Mine particularly, as eventually, I could no longer hold back my tears, for the wait was insufferable. All I wanted was a little time, to have a few quiet moments with Vince before she left us. Also, being fully aware how much Vincent hates trips to the vets, I knew she was getting very stressed in her carrier, and I just wanted to be able to cuddle her one last time and to comfort her.
The staff was very loud which again is very discomforting at such a time. And still, they took no notice to my tears, or to ask what was wrong or if they could help.
Finally, after 50 minutes (!!!!!!) we were approached and told, “Sorry to keep you waiting, we are running a bit behind schedule and your vet has now been called to deal with something else.” I advised that 45 minutes earlier would have been a good time to tell us! To this, I was told, “I appreciate you are worried about your pet....”
It became clear to me no one on staff had a clue what we were there for. Also very upsetting. I advised the nurse, through now near hysteria that we were not “worried” about our pet – that we were there to let her go.
I must admit, this nurse was VERY apologetic, and very kind but at the moment, it meant nothing to me. I was beyond that.
She got us into a room, where an unknown to us vet, again, did not know why we were there and asked “what can I do for you?” She had not even looked at the notes. Our notes were not even on the screen.
Vincent was so frail, she required a catheter in order for the medication to be administered, so she was swiftly whisked from the room, and kept away for sometime....understandable they were having difficulty getting the catheter in her veins – but again – this was time I could not spend with her.
When the vet and the nurse came back, everything happened so fast, and Vincent was so stressed and frightened, that she fought the vet, which required them to hold her in such a way I could not be near her – I could not comfort her - or stroke her in her final moments. I could barely even see her eyes which were frantic with fear. I feel robbed of this. And it makes my heart ache that this is the way she died.
I appreciate this makes it difficult to administer the medication, but not once were we afforded the opportunity to try and stroke and calm Vincent down. The vets remarks to me were, in a rather rushed and defensive tone, “we need to restrain her. If she bites me, then I'm of no use to you”, and that was that. And while I clambered to try to get to a position I could offer comfort to Vince, the medication was given, and my Vincent was gone – without my getting a last word or even a last touch. My cat died, frightened and confused, without the touch of her people. It was not peaceful at all. And nothing anyone can do can change that now.
This was the worst veterinary experience I have ever had in all my 50 years. I am sorry you were short-staffed, and had emergencies. I appreciate these things arise. They do however, not excuse the kind of behavior and treatment we endured and the last memory I will have of my beautiful cat.
I hope this letter will be shared with the staff on hand. A little thing like being aware why customers are coming into the surgery would be a very good start to prevent such an emotionally heartbreaking experience for another family. If any animal is to be put down, they should know and be fully aware BEFORE they start their shift, so they can anticipate the customers needs for sensitivity. I found the whole experience disgusting if I am honest.
At this time, I cannot say whether or not I will return to ....... I feel completely let down.
Sincerely,
