The first round of meds lasted about a month. Although Josie was greatly improved, her breathing was still hard. And I noticed it was starting to get worse again. Before the last dose of prednisone ran out, I called the vet to determine if he should see her again – do a more thorough exam. Although she was better, I knew something was still wrong.
I’ve never been overly fond of my vet. The best way to describe the practice is “old, country vets”. They kinda glance at the animals, give short, non-technical explanations, usually prescribe some drugs and then give the dog a treat. The staff is no better. They used to have a receptionist who was awesome. Friendly. Knew you by name. Knew what she was doing. Never made you feel like you were inconveniencing her. But she recently left and some new people have taken over. They are harder to deal with.
So, here is me, knowing my dog probably needs a better examination. A chest x-ray at the minimum since she is still congested. I’m thinking, what would it hurt to just rule it out, something like congestive heart failure. I give them a call and explain that although she is better, her breathing is still hard and the congestion was starting to come back. (Did I mention she was starting to wake up in the middle of the night again?) The receptionist then proceeded to tell me that she would have to talk to the vet and he was in surgery right now so it might be awhile. I can understand this, I wasn’t expecting her to know. I’m calling for the vet’s opinion – not hers. What got me was her attitude. It was as if I was inconveniencing them by inquiring about my dogs health. I hung up frustrated, but patiently waited for a phone call, hoping they would suggest another visit.
They called back, but only to tell me to do another round of drugs and that the bug was just persistent and another round would clear it up. I wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t like I could argue with them and force the vet to do more. I wasn’t even talking to the vet – I was talking to the receptionist.
I hung up the phone frustrated. Really frustrated. I then called a good friend, who loves his dogs and he loves his vet, and asked for his vet’s info. By the end of the day I had an appointment scheduled for a second opinion. I just had to wait three days.
Interestingly enough, I still went and picked up the second round of meds from my vet. While I was there, I took the opportunity to get a copy of Josie’s medical history. They didn’t even question it.