Our fur kid Simon passed away yesterday, this, after being denied
medical care by more then half a dozen local after hours emergency
pet hospitals.

I suffer from chronic insomnia and so when I can't sleep, I go and
spend time playing with my fur babies. So at 12:30a.m. I found myself
in their bedroom, being entertained by Ansley, Piper, Orson and Simon.
All were in grand form and as silly as ever and I played with them for
maybe 30 minutes or so, before dragging myself off to try and get some
more sleep. It never happened, and at 5:30 the husband got up to find
me wide awake and crashed out in the guest room, where I often go so I
won't wake him with my tossing and turning. He preceded to packed me
off to our bed and told me, please try and get some sleep ok? I get a
few hours and right before 11:00 a.m. I woke up and went right into my
daily routine. This always begins in the ferret room. I start out in
the far corner of their room, and I heard this weird noise. I thought
it was one of them playing behind the bag box. (I have one of those
covered, litter pans that I have filled with those plastic grocery bags
that they LOVE to play in.) Yet when I looked and no one was there,
but I could *still* hear that noise. So began grabbing out the bags in
handfuls and I found Simon, listless and in distress. His breathing was
erratic and wet, and sounded very much like it does when one has an
upper repertory infection. I look to see that his airway was clear, and
found no obstructions. I checked his tummy to see if their was any
hardening of his organs, I looked at his eyes and his nose, to see if
there was any discharge. I looked for any and everything I could, so
that when I phoned for help, I would be able to give them an accurate
description of his current medical state. I handed him to my husband
and I phoned my friend Tara and asked for the number to the Riverside
Animal Hospital/ Dr. Shirling's office where she takes her ferrets. Dr.
Shirling is one of two ferret specialists we have available to us in
the area. While our normal vet does see my fur kids, he does so only
for well visits and shots. For everything else I must rely on the
*specialists*.

I called the Riverside Animal Hospital, so I could get the number for
the *after hours* place where we could take him. When I phoned that
number, I was absolutly amazed when they told me they ONLY saw cats and
dogs. One would expect that if Dr. Shirling sees ferrets as regular
patients, then they would make certain that their after hours clinic
would also do the same in kind, so that the care they offered would be
consistent. The after hours clinic did at least give me another number,
but it was for a Pet Smart. Next I called the other ferret specialist,
Dr. Melissa Kling at Brantley & Jordan Animal Hospital and they
answered right off. I was both surprised and relieved but that was
short lived. They told me that bcause Simon not been seen there before
(Keep in minds, I HAD taken other fur kids there before, but it did not
matter to them at all, only that "Simon" was not among those they had
previously seen) At best, all they offered to do was charge me $25.00
for a consultation by phone. I said, excuse me? You want to charge me
$25.00 to TALK with me about this? Simon is in distress, he CAN'T
breathe, I don't have time to TALK about it, and I need to BRING HIM
IN! At that point it really didn't matter, it was obvious to me they
didn't see the emergency we were facing, so I politely told them, thank
you for nothing, and I hung up. Meanwhile, my dear friend Tara is also
calling places, several of them in fact, and we discover that unless
you are a previously registered patient, they won't see you after
hours - *that* privilege is reserved their current clientele only. I am
aghast, I am aggravated, I am outraged, I am trying to stop the tears
from coming because I need to be the strong one right now, the one that
is calm and in charge, and I need to be this, not only for me, but for
my husband and my son, who up until know have NEVER had to face being
there when we have lost a ferret, and here is Simon, fighting like hell
to breathe, and the best I am offered is absolutely nothing.

I finally call our regular vet at Perry Animal Hospital, our dear Dr.
Bob Again I am not at all surprised when I get an answering machine and
I leave a tear-filled message knowing it will be the last thing I ever
get to say in an effort to save Simon's life. Five minutes later, my
phone rings, and Dr. Steve is on the line and all I can do is cry. As I
said before, Perry Animal Hospital is the place where normally I take
them for their well visits and shots. I have been told by both Dr. Bob
and Dr. Steve, that as much as they love seeing them, if they should
ever get seriously sick, they will have to be seen by one of the ferret
specialists in the Macon. They are not afraid to admit that they only
know so much, and it is one of the many reasons I keep returning,
because they DO CARE and care enough to let me know of their
limitations. Then there are the *specialists*, the ones who do not
offer us anything, not even an apology for not being able to be of more
help, not even a small iota of compassion because it would be obvious
to me that is the one thing that most certainly could be offered if
nothing else could be. Dr. Steve tells us he can be there as soon as we
can get there. It's a LONG 20 minute drive. I can hear his breathing,
or the lack of, as it becomes more and more erratic and as he is
whimpering, because I know it hurts. My husband, who cradles Simon
close and talks sweetly to him, is crying. My son, who sits in the back
seat, holding a phone that he hopes will ring with the answers, is
crying. I feel the anger rise. I am angry at myself for the time I
wasted phoning so-called 'specialists' who didn't want to help out at
all, and angry at the other vets, who were FAR closer to where we live,
and who could have maybe made a difference, but who instead turn us
away because we are not a current *registered*customer. I am so angry
I want to scream, but I don't, because as long as Simon is in need, as
long as my husband and son have hope, as long as Simon can hold on, he
is to be placed first and foremost in my mind.

We arrive before Dr. Steve. I come around to the passenger side, and
my son gets out, and we all huddle around Simon. He is wrapped in my
pajama top and being held very closely by my husband. We begin touching
him and telling him just how much we love him, and for him to please
hold on. My husband can not find Simon's heart beat and panics. I find
it, and then gently place his finger tips on it, we continue to tell
Simon just how much we love him, that we are all there *just* for him,
that the doctor will be there soon too. I look closely at him. I see
that there is still a light in his eyes, but it is dim light and one
that is in pain and in need and so I lean in as close as I can get and
I tell him. It's ok Simmey, if you are ready to leave you can. Don't
stay here for us, stay because you think you can get through this, but
if it hurts too much, if it is time for you to go, you can, I won't be
upset. I'll miss you dearly, but I won't be upset. Go, and look for
Tisha and Autumn the others and tell them I send my love. I love you
Simmey, I love you so very much, my handsome, brave boy. I then gently
kissed him on his head, and he passes away. Moments later Dr. Steve
arrives. He confirms what we already know and he offers us his
sympathy. As we cry, as we look for answers, Dr. Steve asks us a few
questions. Things that may help him understand what happened to Simon.
The only thing he can think of is an embolism. Somehow he got hurt,
ended up with a little bubble on or near his lungs and sometime this
morning it popped. He offers to do a necropsy, but my husband says no,
he doesn't want Simon cut into, I don't blame him, because neither do
I. So there is no definitive answer there, only a possibility and if
that indeed is the case, it means there would have been nothing we
could have done to help Simon recover. I call Tara and we cry. I cradle
Simon in my arms and keep petting him, as if the movement and the tears
will bring him back. I know it won't, but it doesn't stop me from
hoping, from wishing, from praying that all of this is just a horrible
nightmare - but it is not. Simon is gone. As Tara said, he exploded
into our lives and I guess he left in the very same manner. He was
lively, funny, handsome, smart - oh so VERY smart - and now he is gone.
I have my memories of him, but they are of little comfort right now,
because I also have this burning outrage that wants to SCREAM at those
who could have helped, but instead turned us away. I want to phone or
write each and every place I called and thank them for their lack of
care, their absolute disregard for Simon's life, their greed and their
selfishness, I want to ask, why be a vet and then behave in such a
reprehensible manner?

I looked it up on the online Mirriam-Webster's dictionary, the word
veterinarian and it is defined as "a person qualified and authorized
to practice veterinary medicine" and veterinary medicine is defined
as "of, relating to, practicing, or being the science and art of
prevention, cure, or alleviation of disease and injury in animals and
especially domestic animals" So my question is this? Why be a vet?
Why? If you are willing to invest the time to become educated in this
area of medicine, should you not also be willing to invest the great
compassion that IS such an integral part of this field as well? And,
as defined above, if it is considered an art, why are there SO many
who are just god-awful at it?

[Posted in FML 5845]