Comic Relief

When I was in Denver for the veterinary practice management course, one of the speakers was especially entertaining. He started off a human resources module by saying that whenever he asked an applicant why they wanted to work in a veterinary clinic, they usually said the same thing. “I love people, and I love animals.”

He smirked, then said to us, “And you’re all lying.” Pause for laughter. “You hate people!” More laughter, because this is often true. Many budding veterinarians or veterinary technicians are so focused on the goal of working with animals that they forget one important fact. The animals don’t generally arrive at the clinic by themselves. They also don’t have checkbooks. The people bring them in, provide their care, and pay the bills, so we have to deal with people whether we like them or not.

While I’ve had some wonderful clients over the years, there have been a lot of stinkers, too. Some are merely annoying, while others are downright infuriating. Some are charmingly clueless, and can provide some much-needed comic relief.

One such episode of comic relief occurred a few weeks ago. I wasn’t in the room, but Dr. Vet-Friend and Samtastic Vet Tech couldn’t wait to share it.

A family arrived with their new guinea pig for the free exam we offer for animals adopted from the area humane society. As Dr. Vet-Friend was examining the piggy, she was also asking them about its appetite, energy level, and other things that would help her determine how much information she was going to have to provide regarding the proper care and feeding of their new pet.

When she asked if they had any questions or concerns regarding Mr. Piggy, one of the family members, a teenager, I think, said, “Well, there’s somethin’ wrong with his eyes.”

Oh? Didn’t notice anything unusual during the exam, thought Dr. Vet-Friend, but let’s see what he thinks is wrong.

“Yeah, he ain’t got no eyelids,” said the guinea pig owner. Dr. Vet-Friend was about to demonstrate that the guinea pig did, in fact, have eyelids, when the kid continued, “He don’t blink none.”

I realize that there are animals out there who do not have eyelids, having been designed that way, but since they are probably fish, amphibians, reptiles, or other decidedly non-dog creatures, I don’t know right offhand what they might be. But I do know that any guinea pig who “ain’t got no eyelids” and “don’t blink none” would definitely be dead.

How Samtastic didn’t pop a blood vessel in her brain as she heroically stifled her laughter will forever be a mystery. Once it was established that Mr. Piggy did indeed have functional eyelids – and that we clearly needed to start from Square One in the client education department with this particular family – they couldn’t wait to come tell me about the eyelidless, unblinking guinea pig.

Anyone involved in human health care or law enforcement will understand what happened next. When you deal with unpleasant or downright tragic events on a regular basis, you develop a slightly twisted, dark sense of humor. You have to be able to joke about these things, or pretty soon you’ll be so stressed and overwhelmed that you’ll crack and wind up in one of those special jackets with the really long sleeves and all the straps.

By the end of the day (and the 43^rd re-telling of the story), “he ain’t got no eyelids” became our new euphemism for “dead,” because since we only treat mammals, the only non-blinkers we see are definitely no longer alive.

I might ask Samtastic, “Hey, what ever happened with that cat with the seizures that we saw last week?” and she’d say, “He ain’t got no eyelids.” Meaning, the cat has moved on to kitty heaven. Or a shoebox in the back yard. Whatever. Dead.

It’s almost become a little ritual for us now, and is in no way meant to be disrespectful to the departed animals or their families. For example, after the sad story of Zsa Zsa the yellow lab, who died after being hit by a car on Friday, the conversation later that day, when we had time to reflect on the situation, went something like this:

“Poor Zsa Zsa.”

“Yeah, that was really awful.”

“Hope that little boy does OK.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

(Pause)

“Poor Zsa Zsa.”

“She ain’t got no eyelids.”

“Yeah, she don’t blink none.”

(Moment of respectful silence)

Then we giggle a little bit, thinking of the strange guinea pig family, and move on.