When people I know personally (from situations outside of work or veterinary school) complain about their veterinary bills, it’s hard for me not to take it as a personal offense. I was thinking about that on Friday as I was walking home from a bar where I’d met up with some college friends. As we were parting, one of my friends asked me how much a canine dental cost. I responded that they start at about $400 and go up over $1000 for severe dental disease, but that her 2.5 year old dog would likely be towards the low end of that spectrum. My friend’s boyfriend responded, “Oh hell no! We are not paying that for our dog’s teeth!”
Thanks. Way to make my work feel under-valued and under-appreciated. (In her defense, my friend did hush him).
First, I’d love to know what he was expecting it to cost for his dog to undergo full anesthesia, a dental cleaning, and dental xrays (est. $400), not to mention any necessary extractions, surgical flaps, nerve blocks, etc (the additional costs). I have so much difficulty understanding how people demand that veterinarians provide first rate medical care for their pets, but then can’t fathom when our charges must correspondingly cover for the cost of the supplies and services. If people didn’t have health insurance and paid fully for their medical procedures, perhaps they’d have a better idea. I can swear to you that I don’t get paid anywhere close to what a physician does, nor do veterinary nurses and technicians get paid anything close to that of a registered nurse – so it’s not like that money is ending up in my pocket. I don’t expect us to be paid equally, I just wish people realized how the entire veterinary industry seems to hover just in the black, always walking the fine line between making money and making things affordable for owners. The median annual earnings for a veterinarian was $72,000 in 2006.
Second, don’t get a pet if you aren’t prepared to pay the associated costs. Just as you wouldn’t (responsibly) have a child without being able to afford their care, you shouldn’t have a pet if you can’t afford one. Or, you can have the pet, but you have to realize that you might encounter a financial liability that you can’t take on. You can’t expect veterinary care as a right, free of costs.
It’s one thing when I see owners who I can tell are legitimately being faced with tough monetary decisions about their pets and their veterinary care. It’s another thing entirely to have my well-educated, and mostly well-paid, acquaintances from Dartmouth, Darien, or Manhattan complaining to me about those costs. It feels like an insult.
It is insulting because it is an insult. A quarter-million plus for diplomas from top-tier schools written in Latin, yet the public presumption is that all human output should be at five dollars an hour. I charge more for an hour of my time than you quoted for little fido’s cleaning, so I see this on a daily basis. In the end, you cannot help everyone, even though you may think it is right.
Anne, I couldn’t agree more wholeheartedly. It’s an affront to your profession and general sensibility.
I just wrote a long and intelligent response that was deleted for some reason. The basic idea was that I completely agree and deal with this on a daily basis. I am constantly struggling with charging clients appropriately for my time and services, and find myself having to explain these charges all the time. It is a constant and very challenging battle. I find that a lot of people have horses that can hardly afford to pay their bills in some pretty rural areas of Maine, and the will do everything they can for their animals. On the other had, a lot of more wealthy clients are quite stingy with their funds. . . Strange.
I’m fortunate enough to work with a lot of people who are willing and financially able to pay obscene amounts of money for the veterinary care of their animals (I routinely have animals in the hospital with bills that run $6-10K, and have a few more clients that have spent $20-30K). What is interesting to me is that as the numbers climb, the expectations get higher. It’s as if they think that the money they spend will buy them a guarantee of success. The animals that cost $20K to treat are usually the tough cases that probably won’t get better (which I make clear to them), but it almost seems like people are trying to buy biological security.
wow everything i wrote just got deleted.
so. i totally understand not feeling valued at work, boy do i get it. but why the personal offense to a statement that was hardly personal? if they were asking the question, they didn’t know how much it was. and the costs on the “low end” of the spectrum–they do SEEM pricey. if you’re a human with health insurance (as you note) they just do.
also, i can’t speak for everyone, but when i’m leaving a bar–assuming i’ve had a few–measured statements can take a backseat to loopy pronouncements of whatever might move me at the moment.
basically it seems kind of unfair to call him cheap or irresponsible.*
*full disclosure: I was there, know the kid, and he’s neither of these things.
So here is a thought – it’s not always all about you !!!
Right on. Sorry the bar friends don’t get it. Not surprising as most people don’t realize an appendectomy and 24 hours stay in the hospital (and surgery performed by a resident) costs $44,000. And that was a number I got a few years ago from the NYTimes. What bothers me more is the situation I experienced this morning: Discharging a Parvo puppy Beagle (not my admission but I was the overnight this weekend) and the guy had no money from the start. Unfortunately, the dog needed more treatment than it received; and I couldn’t give it better care for $$ reasons: He tried to leave the puppy at my clinic for sign over, etc..And he got the idea from his RDVM (who recommended just leaving the puppy with us), this morning instead of paying the bill and bringing his puppy to his RDVM. I think some of our older colleagues are also very much at fault. They have historically charged less for our skill (more for meds, etc) and subsequently our talent is of less value in the marketplace (hate to use that term). Flip side: with heartbreak money cases I have given a courtesy visit MANY times. I am guilty.
So whoever “Anonymous” is, you should never read Anne’s blogs again and heed to the old adage “If you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all”. I mean enough already, just go somewhere else.
Ok, so clearly I don’t know how this works, but I wrote the above comment. So be nice to Anne. :)
Alicia observed, “most people don’t realize an appendectomy and 24 hours stay in the hospital (and surgery performed by a resident) costs $44,000″
I have no reason to disbelieve this, and I think it’s a national disgrace. But that’s a subject for a different post.
I’m going to tell a story, and you can take it for what it’s worth.
When I was about ten, we adopted a kitten from some near neighbors. I don’t think mom really needed another mouth to feed, but my brother took a real shine to this kitten, and it would have required a harder heart than hers to turn the little cat away. Anyway, after a few days it became apparent that this kitten was not doing well. It had arrived at our home full of fleas and undernourished. We got rid of the fleas and kept his little tummy full, but his health deteriorated in spite of that. So we gathered him up and took him to our local vet.
After examining the kitten, Dr. Aronson told us that he believed the little cat had a severe bacterial infection, probably from the many flea bites he had suffered. He said that the kitten was dehydrated and needed to spend a few days in the hospital getting iv fluids and antibiotics. He said that he would phone us when the kitten was well enough to come home.
It was about a week before we heard from the vet that all was well and that it was time to pick up our little friend. When we arrived to collect him, mom pulled out her checkbook and asked Dr. Aronson how much we owed.
“Twenty-five dollars,” said the vet.
Now, this was quite a while back, but even in those days, $25 for a week at the vet’s was an absurdly low fee.
“Be serious,” mom said. This vet was always a bit waggish, and mom thought that he was joking.
“Twenty-five dollars,” he repeated.
“That’s impossible,” said mom.
Dr. Aronson said, “When I told you that this kitten needed to be hospitalized, you never asked me how much it would cost. Do you know how many people would have let him die rather than pay for a hospital stay? So I’m telling you now, the fee is twenty-five dollars, and I don’t want to argue about it anymore.”
So mom wrote the check, we brought our beloved kitten home, and enjoyed his antics for many years.
Obviously, Dr. Aronson never got rich… he was practicing in an era when vets rarely did. And sadly, he died while still a relatively young man… I’d be willing to bet he had lousy health insurance… even in those days, most self-employed people couldn’t afford good health care. But what he did have was the love and respect of the community he served. He truly cared for his patients, and he cared about the welfare of the people who owned them. His value to us could not be measured in dollars and cents. And I believe that at least on that day, he measured his own worth in the eyes of my 12-year-old brother, to whom he was not just a veterinarian, but a hero.
I’m not suggesting for even one moment that vets do not deserve to be paid well for the services they perform. The vet I have now has a very successful practice. He makes a good living, and quite rightly so. I go to his office prepared to pay for his services. But I chose this particular vet not because he’s a good diagnostician (which he is) or because he’s a nimble surgeon (also true). I patronize his practice because he is a kind man. I’m sure he paid handsomely for his education and worked very hard to build his practice. He deserves to reap the economic benefits of that. I admire his skill, and his business acumen, but what I admire most about him is his humanity.