O, the humanity!
You turn to medicine to fix things that are out of your hand, and then something happens.
They’re why liability insurance exists, how eager Dateline or 20/20 reporters make a name for themselves–medical mistakes.
Certainly, in veterinary medicine, the stakes aren’t as high. You’re not talking about someone’s child/spouse/parent, but the times, they are a changin’. Entire courses are being taught in animal law. Prior to now, the only remuneration you could get for your pet was its cost, but emotional damages are starting to be awarded in some states. Now this entry certainly is not the blog entry when I would like to discuss the implications or argue the merits of this, but it is an important discussion my profession is currently having and that lawyers are having, but of course, not together. Sigh. A fight to fight another day.
What I hope to address here is the frightening aspect of medical mistakes, and how we all make them. Every single person who works in a medical profession has made a mistake that has compromised, sometimes fatally, the life or treatment of a patient. It’s frighteningly real, but it’s the consequence of our humanity. We would all like to be perfect, but that is a devout wish we will never see realized.
I began to write this entry the day after I made my very first medical mistake. It was one so odd that I don’t think I could repeat it, causing my patient’s necessary surgery to be delayed and me to imagine all the possible career paths that would not directly involve patient care. But my patient pulled through, thanks to the skill of the doctors and technicians here, and is now at home and doing wonderfully, and through the sage advice of all around me, I was reminded that this is a necessary part of our profession, and that so long as I learn from my mistake, it will not have been in vain.
But what about our patients? Are they to settle for a mere 99% change that we’ll treat them well? A recent survey of British veterinary graduates admitted that 78% made mistakes their first year out. That’s a startling statistic to me, but I suppose less so when i really think about it.
At the school I attend, we have one year–12 months–to learn practical clinical skills before being sent out into the world. While the days of immediately post-DVM going back to your hometown and setting up shop on your own are quickly abating, the idea that with every passing day I and my classmates move closer and closer to being the sole party responsible for the treatment of an animal is terrifyingly real. A large movement in the field of equine and small animal veterinary medicine is to do a one-year post-graduation internship. This allows for 12 more high-paced clinical months with which to gain our footing, but it certainly doesn’t eliminate the risk. Overall, I think it does give us a better chance at learning from them.
