Some old wife once said that bad things happen in threes. I certainly hope she’s correct, because I’m about fed up. First, Elliott, then, the MoonPie of Delight, now Rory. Thankfully, Rory’s situation isn’t immediately life-threatening.
Yesterday morning, he seemed to be suffering from another blockage. Over the past few years, he’s had recurring problems with struvite crystals, so I watch him carefully. This time, he came to me and squatted next to my foot. “See, I’m trying to pee!” Bless his little heart. So off to the vet he went. They’re keeping him for catheterization and observation for two nights, which is okay, but I’m a little perturbed at their lack of communication skills.
I called them yesterday afternoon. The vet had already gone for the day, and the office person couldn’t find any information for me. Keeping and consulting patient charts should be pretty standard, right? Then, this morning, I ran into the same problem. All I could get out of the technician was that Rory had been catheterized. She didn’t know when I could pick him up, but took my number and said she’d catch the doctor after his next patient and call me back. Two hours later–tired of waiting–I called back again, and she still didn’t have info for me. This time, at least, she went to find the doctor. They want to keep him another night.
Okaythen.
Why on earth couldn’t that information have been in his chart, so that when I called yesterday, I could be told what was going on?
I think it’s time to find a new (um, better) vet. First, I’m not comfortable with their diagnostic skills. They’re semi-emergency vets (strictly walk-in with good evening hours), which is nice, but their prices are ungodly and, at this point, I’m not inclined to trust them with unknown quantities. As soon as Rory is feeling better, I’m going to try to get him into another vet for a well visit. Or, maybe I’ll use Harriet as my guinea pig. I really hate to do that to her, though, because she’s so damned tweaky about strangers. She actually likes her current vets, which is why I’ve stuck with them, despite the fact that I always feel like I’ve only got about 1/4 of their attention when I’m dealing with them.
Oh, and to make things even more exciting, Rory absolutely and completely refuses to eat Hills C/D (crystal diet). He’s not otherwise a picky eater, but he won’t touch even canned C/D. If there’s so much as a molecule of it mixed into another food, he won’t touch it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s poison. At one point, he lost half of his body weight and started to go into organ failure because he wouldn’t eat it. So, it’s not like he’s just being bratty and waiting him out is an option. I finally had to water down the canned and force feed it to him, which is reasonable in the short term but is notnotnot a long-term solution.
red paper boat 