Warning, long post…read more
Do not take your pet here unless you want them to die. My poor sweet cat, Artemis, died in agony less than 24 hours after a procedure at Cornell University Veterinary Specialists.
She was hospitalized multiple times for evaluation of weight loss and GI disease. On June 16, she underwent endoscopy with biopsies and a liver FNA with Dr. Forman. I was told the procedure was uncomplicated and that she was stable and good to go home. This was strike 1, they discharged her too soon.
After discharge, she was clearly not okay.
On the drive home, I noticed intermittent wheezing. Once home, she became progressively lethargic, hid from us, vomited, had worsening abdominal distension, and appeared to be struggling to breathe. I called the hospital because I was concerned about her respiratory status. I was told these signs could be related to anesthesia and her anti-nausea meds wearing off and that I should monitor her. As a physician, I knew better. I ignored that advice and brought her back to the ER, which I ultimately regret.
In the ER, I met Dr. Zenobya Clarke, who was taking "care" of Artemis. She confirmed that she was in respiratory distress and gave her butorphanol (FYI, pet owners cannot observe the treatments, pets are taken to a back room while we are made to wait in a separate room for updates). She disclosed that she accidentally gave "double" the dose, and when I asked her for the exact amount, she said she gave 1 mg/kg of body weight, when the typical dose is 0.2 mg/kg. So she overdosed her by 5 times, not double like she said. When I mentioned that, she acted flippantly like it was no big deal. Strike 2. When I received her medical records after her death, turns out she had actually given 2 mg/kg, so she gave 10 times the amount in an already sick cat. A medication error of that magnitude should never happen. She told me Artemis would be admitted to the ICU and said she looked stable so I could go home.
I asked to visit her before I left and noticed that she was open-mouthed breathing and in terrible condition. She was bradycardic and hypotensive on the monitor, none of which was mentioned to me. Strike 3. The vet swore she looked ok just before, which I find hard to believe. I had to point out how unstable she looked. Throughout the visit, Dr. Clarke was callous, brushed off her errors, and seemed like she did not know what she was doing. I found out after the fact that she was a resident with seemingly no oversight.
Despite treatment, Artemis' condition rapidly deteriorated. She developed severe respiratory distress, began vomiting blood, and we made the heartbreaking decision to euthanize her to end her suffering. She was the sweetest, gentlest, most affectionate cat, and to see her die in such a horrific way was devastating.
I understand that not every patient can be saved. What I cannot understand is how a patient who was reportedly stable enough for discharge could deteriorate so dramatically within hours, why my concerns about her breathing after discharge were dismissed initially, and how a 10-fold medication overdose occurred during her care.
Instead of celebrating my upcoming wedding in a few days, I was forced to say goodbye to the sweetest cat I have ever known. I am left with profound grief, unanswered questions, and a complete loss of trust in a hospital I believed would provide the highest level of care. On top of that, I spent almost $15K at Cornell only for them to ultimately cause her death at their neglect. Artemis trusted me and willingly went into her carrier. I had to return home with an empty carrier and a broken heart.