It seems like the outings I take now besides to the grocery are to our vet. Where we aren't allowed to see the medical professional. At least not at my vet's office. We arrive, sit in our cars, call to announce said arrival, and communicate with a tech who comes to retrieve our pet. Any communication is done through the tech who may or may not be relaying the information. Sometimes I wonder. Because only one tech has taken notes, and yet here I am again returning to an office I usually only see once a year.
This last visit, I was forceful with each person from the appointment gal to the tech. I'm hopeful my tone was discussed with the vet, but I'm not holding my breath. At least neither vet bothered to come outside to speak with me--which is what I would have done at this juncture.
Elliot is still licking his left paw. He is still limping. I've explained numerous times that this isn't normal. If my child were suddenly licking her palms twenty-four/seven, you better believe my pediatrician would've been all over that. Even when ours couldn't diagnose an issue with one of my girls, she kept seeking answers from others.
Her: "You know your child's body and behaviors better than I do."
Yes! Just as I know my dog. Following his yearly physical, where I was told his licking was behavioral, we had the teeth removal. Where they shaved his LEFT leg--the same paw that I specifically questioned the week prior. Of course, now the licking was attributed to his hair growing in, and after a phone call that solved nothing, a sore developed, and back to the vet's office, we went.
Where I once again voiced my concern over the licking of his paw on that very leg! And the limping! And--this is where I believe the drop occurred--a sore that had developed under that same leg in the pit area. I don't think the vet ever examined there. I think the sore ON his leg was checked, but the sore under it? Yeah, there is no way she saw that.
Because a week later, that bad boy sore was oozing green and yellow pus, and I was forced to be taken seriously. Even now, I'm not sure why I didn't demand to speak to the vet. Hell, we could've spoken by phone, and if they ever send out a survey on how well they did during COVID, I would suggest that option for next pandemic. But instead, I spoke forcefully to the tech and may have rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses when she asked questions my vet SHOULD HAVE IN ELLIOT'S COMPUTERIZED CHART.
Which I used to see when I was allowed inside the vet's office.
Off went Elliot with the tech and firm instructions to discuss his condition with the professional I assumed would really lay her hands on my dog (because really, how do we know she is even in the building). I'm not sure Elliot relayed anything. He was miserable and didn't even seem to mind that he was once again back at the red brick building.
Ten minutes later, and a hundred dollars shorter in my wallet, Elliot was back in the car. He had an infection under his leg (no shit) which required more antibiotics, and the vet had given yet another cortisone shot--this one longer acting--to stop his licking. I asked several questions, which she answered in an attempt to appease me without returning back inside, and off we went.
Something tells me we are about to switch veterinarian offices.
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