When any client says goodbye to their beloved pet it is a sad thing. Some clients bring family, some come alone. We offer hugs, condolences, and reassurance that they are doing the right thing. But still, it is very hard. As veterinary staff and doctors know, we are called upon every day, every moment, to extend compassion not just to animals, but to people as well. One of my coworkers told me that I was suffering from compassion burnout right before I left for vacation 12 days ago. I needed that time in the Keys. I really really did.
At work a couple of weeks ago one of the practice owners received a message from a past client demanding that the doctor return their call. This person refused to give even the briefest hint to the receptionist taking the message. Normally, one can't just call a doctor's office and get a doctor on the phone. Try it; see how far you get. But in this case it was a new receptionist, a kind person perhaps a bit easily bullied.
No one wanted to return this client's call. This is a client whose name is bandied about rather like Freddy Krueger's; a name used to incite fear and loathing in any staff member who has had the misfortune of dealing with them.
Alas, it turned out that "Freddy" was calling in hopes of his pet seen for free or nearly for free. Freddy reasoned that we had been seeing him for a "long time," and perhaps he felt we owed it to him. In this situation it came down to this: this person had been merciless with our staff and doctors over the years, a real genuine bully. Because of this behavior they had zero compassion in the "compassion bank." Their expectation of free service was a bit humorous to us.
None the less I was bothered by the episode and the next day I asked one of the practice owners if we should go ahead and see the pet for free? If maybe, just maybe, it was the "right" thing to do? She said "Right? As in 'right' when you reach the Pearly Gates?" I replied "yes" and gave my reasoning. She was not convinced in either direction. So I was left with a question unanswered.
After the incident I left on vacation. In quiet moments I re-visited this episode and the fact that I felt I had failed to be compassionate. Or, on more reflection, is my definition of compassion skewed? Does compassion equal "free service?" I did come to the conclusion that I should offer compassion equally to all. It is not my place to judge whether a person is worthy of compassion or not. "I will offer compassion, I will turn away fear," is my mantra during meditation. And yet I feel I failed some how.
I wish I could say this story has a happy ending. But at this time we do not know what will happen. There may be no happy ending.
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