Tag: insurance

  • A difference of opinion

    A difference of opinion

    I’m only a few short weeks into my final-year rotations at the University of Bristol’s Veterinary Referral Hospital, but I already feel like I’ve learned a lot:

    • DOPs aren’t as scary as I’d built them up to be in my head.
    • It does get easier to navigate your way around the hospital with time (and trial and error).
    • There are quite a few differences between first-opinion and second-opinion practice that I’d never really considered until now.

    Budgets

    The gift that is the NHS can certainly make us blind to the costs of routine medical procedures. Something as simple as an ultrasound, blood work and a couple of days’ hospitalisation can amass a bill that’s simply unaffordable for a lot of pet owners.

    I’ve seen a lot of cases reach the end of the road due to lack of funds, when the answer (or potential answer) was frustratingly simple, but just too much money. The reality of referral practice, however, is that if your patient has made it to you in the first place, there is likely a higher budget to play with than the average consult.

    When you’re on a certain rotation, you find yourself doing the same diagnostics every day, so it’s easy to lose track of the value of the drug you’re administering, or the probe in your hand. I think my group and I honestly balked when the cardiology team told us the cost of a standard echocardiogram at the end of our week where we’d been observing between 6 to 10 a day. Of course, it’s still important to keep costs low wherever possible, but it’s been interesting to see how larger budgets and insurance policies are broken down.

    Seeing small animal CTs, echocardiograms and neurosurgeries for the first time was an amazing experience, but I do need to keep reminding myself that the proportion of my future patients that will go on to have these sorts of procedures is incredibly small.

    Image © TungCheung / Adobe Stock

    Specialisms

    When you’re learning in a veterinary hospital, you’re constantly surrounded by leading experts in the field of everything under the sun, and sometimes it’s hard not to feel like a monkey with a stethoscope. Usually, in first opinion, there’s an assortment of different strengths throughout the practice – one vet may have intercalated in neurology and behaviour, while another may has done more CPD on exotic animal medicine. These differences are an asset to every practice and make team working an essential and valuable commodity.

    In a referral setting, these “strengths” are often extended to actual specialisms, where the vets are not only actively involved in research in a particular field, but see only animals in a certain category of illness. The need for teamwork, however, is just as paramount here – if not more so!

    After working in cardiology for a week and beginning to feel like I didn’t know anything, I can tell you that it was very refreshing to have the head of another department pop their head through the door and ask what on earth was going on with their patient’s heart. When they also didn’t know the actions of all the drugs I’d been painstakingly trying to commit to memory for the past five days, that too came as a wave of relief.

    Client communication

    Good communication and patience come hand in hand. If you’re delivering bad news to a client or talking them through a complicated diagnosis or treatment plan, that takes time – and although the average first opinion consult is only 15 minutes long, I’d say that, rather oxymoronically, there’s more time to deal with difficult situations in that scenario than in emergency referral.

    Of course, first opinion sees it’s share of emergencies as well, but for the most part vets see a disease present slowly over time and are able to prepare their clients accordingly.

    In the past couple of weeks, however, I’ve seen referral vets have to delicately balance client communication with the urgency of life-threatening conditions. Sometimes there are mere minutes to intervene after an animal enters the hospital, and vets must be very diligent and considerate when explaining this situation to an owner who may not yet grasp the severity. Owners have to have informed consent at all times, and to be prepared and supported in the event of any potential outcomes, but the sooner an animal is triaged and either treated or prepped for surgery the better.

    I think that this is where the truly brilliant vets really shine. To have compassion and humanity at the forefront, with animal welfare and haste also in mind, takes a lot of mental and emotional gymnastics. I’m honestly in awe of every vet I’ve seen both in the past few weeks and over my years seeing practice who’s had to deal with a crisis on both the animal and the human end.

    As of yet, I’m unsure if my career will lead me to first opinion or referral practice, but I can appreciate the similarities and differences between the two – despite us all starting out in the same place.

  • What about vets on the front line?

    What about vets on the front line?

    Our profession is generally pretty good at pulling together in the face of adversity.

    I’ve always loved the community feel of being able to go to CPD events, and usually know someone, or have connections with someone, who is there.

    I love being able to send a message to my uni friends at any time of day or night – be that for clinical advice, moral support or reassurance on something entirely non-vet related – and get a reply. Failing that, you can often seek an answer or support from one of the vet Facebook groups on numerous topics.

    In light of COVID-19, the veterinary world has rallied together… to a point.

    One for all, and all for…

    Those who have been furloughed are finding a wealth of free online CPD available to fill their time and keep connected clinically. Not only are there webinars, but there’s a plethora of online workouts or discussion groups to actively engage in.

    That all sounds lovely, but what about those of us who are still working? What support is there for the minimal staff left in clinics who (despite all these figures on turnover being down) are battling ridiculous increases in workload?

    Less is… less

    There’s less staff in most clinics, to varying degrees, but I have heard horror stories about severely restricted numbers and even certain groups furloughing everyone but vets.

    Whatever business decision may lie behind that, these clinics must be in chaos. Vets, who are already stretched trying to do their “normal” jobs (it is currently far from normal), are also running their own bloods, cleaning, answering phones, chasing and taking payments, sorting insurance claims and ordering stock, among other things.

    These tasks may be alien to some of us, and trying to navigate previously undiscovered depths of the practice management system at the end of an exhausting shift adds unnecessary stress.

    We love our nurses and receptionists as it is, but those who are currently deprived of them will be unearthing a a gargantuan respect for them in the future.

    Crisis consulting

    Consulting in this environment makes you realise how much multitasking we would ordinarily do. Currently, my consults look like this:

    • Owner arrives and calls reception.
    • I try to work out which car he or she is in, then take a brief history from 2m away.
    • Take the animal into the practice.
    • Find a nurse to assist with the handling.
    • Examine the animal.
    • Telephone the owner from the practice or go back outside to discuss with him or her from a safe distance, before returning to the animal to give treatment.
    • Give the animal back to the owner.
    • Dispense medication, then ask the owner to call reception again to pay…

    This takes a lot longer than normal consults, so working to offer the same number of appointment slots is both relentless and draining.

    Lies and abuse

    Everyone is used to certain number of disgruntled clients, but the barrage of abuse those on reception are receiving from clients is unprecedented.

    It would seem many members of the public are not getting the “stay at home” message and are furious when we explain a nail clip is not an emergency. As a result, we are now seeing clients exaggerating, or just plain lying, in order to be seen.

    A choice example last week was a dog booked for a potential euthanasia, but turned out to be a weight clinic. We then had to stifle our disbelief and anger at these time wasters before moving on to the next client, who has desperately tried to hold off from having to make the difficult decision to say goodbye to their dearest pet under these circumstances – and yet we can only offer words of comfort from a distance and inject from the end of a drip line, which really doesn’t seem enough.

    Unfortunately, the COVID clearout seems to be worse than the annual Christmas clearout, and these scenarios are not isolated, but heartbreakingly frequent.

    Lost in translation

    And what support do we get? We get the RCVS and BVA back-pedalling on their original statement, to then shirk responsibility and leave it “up to individual practices” to interpret the “guidance” how they wish.

    After the clarity of the original stance on vaccinations, this ambiguous follow up was very disappointing. The truth is many vets feel that corporates and business owners will take this as a green light to return to business as usual, while firmly claiming that it is most definitely not business as usual.

    I can agree with that – the way we are working is certainly not the usual, but if we are now to do vaccines and neutering again, what exactly are we missing? Stable med checks, done via telephone rather than in person?

    Taking the high or low road?

    We get colleagues taking the moral high ground, questioning our commitment to the oath we took on graduation to put animal heath and welfare above all else. Just because I don’t think vaccinations are currently a priority, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about my patients anymore – human health has to come first.

    We get corporates issuing yet more paperwork to encourage us to document risk assessments – while seemingly offsetting the responsibility to us – so that if their business gets sued for denying to provide care or (God forbid) agreeing to see an animal that results in transmission of COVID-19 between owner/vet, it was the vet or receptionist who took the phone call’s fault for making that decision.

    Aside from this, the phones are ringing off the hook and vets are running around like blue-arsed flies, so practically, where are we going to find the time to fill in these bloody forms?

    Horseplay

    Before any of that, the request to risk assess mild ailments is fundamentally flawed when we are being told to go out and do horse boosters.

    While equine vaccinations and other routine work that is now being pushed again, because equine turnover is the most severely affected of all veterinary sectors, we are told to maintain safe social distancing at all times.

    With equine vets reported to be one of the most dangerous occupations, is it sensible to expect us to administer vaccines with no one holding the horse? In some, if not most, cases, that will probably be okay. But with owners consistently lying to us to be given an “emergency” appointment, how long before an owner lies about his or her severely needle/vet-shy horse and one of us pays the price?

    Heading for burnout

    I don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of business management, but you cannot flog a dead horse. Many vets who have barely had time to inhale lunch are working different and longer shifts just to cope with the “emergencies” – and yet you’re asking us to do more?

    It’s incredulous that the veterinary sector seems to think itself superior to all the other thousands of businesses up and down the country that are struggling or facing collapse. By continuing to pile the pressure on to staff with increasing risk of burnout, you might preserve some income, but you’ll be lucky to have any vets left by the end of this.

    Is anybody listening?

    We are angry that the higher-ups in the profession are treating us this way. We feel guilty for being jealous of, or feeling antipathy towards, our furloughed colleagues. We are emotionally drained. We feel guilty because this can only be a fraction of how front-line NHS staff must be feeling – and above all, we are exhausted.

    In a profession with an already poor record for mental health and suicide, we are now even more stretched, under even more pressure from all angles – and no one seems to be listening.

  • The art of veterinary medicine

    The art of veterinary medicine

    So, with less than three weeks until finals, my friends and I have finished rotations. Some of us have had job interviews and some have accepted job offers. This is all getting a bit real…

    pagerSupposedly, we’re ready to take on the outside world as real vets. We’ve got heads full of knowledge and hands that have meticulously repeated sutures, catheterisations, and injections to maintain muscle memory. But what we haven’t got is experience.

    Sure, we’ve consulted while on rotations and, before that, we had communication skills tutorials, and although these were realistic – with very good actors screaming at you for losing their hypothetical cat out the practice window or bursting into tears as you explain that their dog died under anaesthetic – they just aren’t quite the same.

    Gaining experience

    Any consultations we have done on rotations have been fairly straightforward, with the vet in the background to interject or, at least, within shouting/pager distance to check anything you’re unsure of.

    We have been involved in high stakes situations where things have gone wrong or an animal’s life has depended on the treatment and care we’ve contributed to – and as much as rotations are aimed at making you think and make your own decisions, you’re always steered in the right direction, or someone intervenes before you do something momentously stupid.

    We may feel like we’re carrying a good deal of responsibility at times but, at the end of the day, it hasn’t been our necks on the line.

    Cash concerns

    money
    “We are assigned a number of tasks throughout final year that make us consider cost […] but you never really have to have that conversation with the owner as such.” Image © Andy Dean / Fotolia.

    And what about money? A lot of our consulting in final year is done at charity clinics, where the treatment is often free or very cheap. This means treatment options are much more limited, so you learn how to approach things on a budget, but you never really have to have that conversation with the owner as such.

    Any consults done at the university’s small animal hospital are referrals – many of which are long-standing patients coming in for rechecks, so the owners have already been dealing with the insurance or have sorted payment with the reception staff.

    We are assigned a number of tasks throughout final year that make us consider cost, such as discussing the costs of anaesthesia and treatment options for certain conditions, or pricing farm visits in first opinion practice. But again, it isn’t really us, the students, making the final decisions based on the client’s budget.

    In at the deep end

    So we’ve got the veterinary science bit nailed (well, hopefully – finals pending). But going into that first day as a qualified vet is going to be nerve-wracking for everyone, and that’s when the education will really begin. That’s where we will learn the things no one can really teach you, nor can you pick up until you are the vet making the final decisions – your neck on the line.

    No one can teach you how to hold your tongue when the client opposite you is being completely irrational, or how to keep your composure when another breaks down in tears over the death of a pet, which you are really quite emotionally invested in too.

    Having the internal battle with yourself over what the ideal diagnostic or treatment protocol would be, versus what is realistically affordable, becomes something of an art – there’s no formula or calculation to work out the best approach. As for actually having the responsibility on your own shoulders, and not falling apart when things go wrong, that takes resilience.

    These are all things that will come with experience. It will be a steep learning curve, I’m sure, but essential if we’re to embark on the journey of life after vet school and master the art of veterinary medicine.

  • Could I have a pet at university?

    Missing her cats, Jordan ponders the feasibility of owning a pet while at university.
    Missing her cats, Jordan ponders the feasibility of owning a pet while at university.

    I’ve always had cats at home, and they often played the role of revision buddy/lap warmer. That was one of the things I missed most when I first went to university.

    Pets aren’t allowed in student halls, but now that I live in a flat with other vet students, pet ownership becomes a possibility (landlord permitting).

    As a student, I meticulously budget in order to ensure I eat well, am able to enjoy myself and get some travelling in without blowing all of my cash the first week that student loan comes in. But even with this amount of planning, could I find some spare to pay to feed a cat as well as myself? Probably. Could I find the money if something went wrong, if said cat needed lifetime insulin or thyroxine treatment or broke a limb in a road traffic accident? Probably not.

    Pet insurance would extinguish the worry surrounding the “what ifs”, and I do know other students with pets that are insured. Even then, premiums that cover long-term conditions come at a fair price, and I wouldn’t want to find myself in a financial position forcing me to cancel insurance and risk my pet requiring costly treatment.

    Money is not the only commitment that you make to a pet though. The other major consideration is time – although this is more of a concern with dogs, which require a greater time commitment than cats.

    I often feel that owning a dog would be excellent stress relief, but as idillic as dog walking seems, could I commit several hours a day, every day, including around exam time?

    "As idillic as dog walking seems, could I commit several hours a day, every day, including around exam time?"Even if I could commit the time while I’m around, I know that I don’t stay permanently in one place. For the majority of the time I’m in Glasgow, but during the holidays I’m at home (Leicestershire), on EMS or travelling. Who would look after the pet then? Since I live with vets, they have similarly busy lifestyles and it would be unfair to expect them to pet-sit while I’m away.

    And what would happen when I graduate? I don’t know where I’ll be living, where my first job might take me, or whether it will be feasible to take a pet along for the ride.

    An alternative to pet owning is fostering. The Glasgow branch of Cats Protection has recently advertised their fostering service to vet students at Glasgow. The fostering scheme encourages taking on a cat, with bedding, litter and food provided. They will provide all veterinary care and will even take back the cats if you go on holiday.

    I think fostering is a great way of caring for cats without a lot of the concerns outlined above, and perhaps the only option I’d consider while at university with regards to pets. As much as I’d love to own a pet in Glasgow, I think it would be unfair on the animal if I could not offer the money and time to give it a great quality if life.

    It’s unfortunate that many people do not undertake greater consideration when deciding to own a pet. Perhaps many of the day-to-day ethical issues faced in practice could be avoided if they did.

  • Tax doesn’t have to be taxing

    Tax doesn’t have to be taxing

    Accounting calculator
    Is calculating tax returns your idea of hell?
    Image: Darren Shaw.

    As students, we need all the extra cash we can get, and often a part time job will help considerably with rent, bills etc. But what about self employment?

    It may seem like a scary proposal: how would I be able to run my own business while studying? What do I need to get started? What would I do? Will I have time? Are students even allowed to do that?

    The answer is yes, you can be self employed while studying!

    I recently registered as self employed for freelance writing. It’s something that I enjoy doing, which means it doesn’t even feel like I’m working. I also feel that it would be almost impossible to fit in a “real” part-time job around university, particularly because the veterinary course has so much contact time, and it would be very difficult to find fixed working hours that would accommodate that. The freedom and flexibility are definitely major positives of being self-employed.

    But writing isn’t the only option; there are lots of things that you could do and make a bit of spare cash from. There are a few self-employed students out there, you just might not be aware of it.

    Cake making
    Could baking be your way of earning a few extra pounds? Image (and chocolate button cake) by Rebecca Hubbard.

    I know of people at Glasgow and other universities who earn money from a variety of sources. One of my high-school friends makes teddies from different fabrics by hand and sells them via her Facebook page. Another student makes very high quality professional-looking cakes for occasions in her spare time.

    As an employee, you get paid every month and generally won’t get taxed because a part-time job would mean you don’t come anywhere near the earnings threshold. If you did get taxed accidentally, filling out a simple form (or having a word with your employer) would ensure a tax rebate. So getting your hands on your hard-earned cash and keeping hold of it is fairly straightforward.

    Self employment, on the other hand, involves a much more proactive process. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been learning the jargon, trying to get my head around National Insurance contributions and making a start on my tax return. It’s all very new and while it seems like a headache at the minute, once I get into the swing of things, I’m sure I’ll get the paperwork done in no time.

    All in all, the extra paperwork is completely worth being able to do what I love, when I want, while getting paid for it.