Therapy Visit Stories
The following letter was sent to me on Sept. 5, 1996:
Yesterday we visited the rehab hospital and in the Physical Therapy room
there was a very large young man who indicated, with his gestures not voice,
that he wanted Beaucoup to come over to him. He was in a wheelchair and his
right foot was in a cast. He loved petting Bouks, and when I asked if he'd
like to give her a treat he indicated yes. He didn't talk at all, but somehow
I knew what he wanted and Beaucoup was quite taken by him.
Later in our visit, when we were on the upper floors doing our room visits,
we encountered him again in his wheelchair near the nursing station. By this
time we were joined by the recreation director, Pam, who has an incredible
way of using these dog visits for her own interactions with the patients. She
began to ask him questions, like "Have you ever seen such a big dog?" "Do you
like her?" "What do you think of..." and he was verbally answering her. It
all seemed quite normal to me.
Then afterwards, she said to me privately that this was the first time since
he'd been admitted that he had said *anything* to her. He is schizophrenic,
hears voices, had tried to jump out of a window and broken his foot.
Just these small, small steps in communication that a dog can make possible.
And often you don't even know just how gigantic an interaction may be in
terms of bringing a patient to a new level.
A Bark Ave. Story by Cindy Skaalrud
Vanessa
When my English springer spaniel, Tristan, was just over a year old we met Vanessa. She was 6 years old, and had been staying at a children's hospital we were visiting for several months... and she definitely did not like dogs. There was an invisible circle around Vanessa that dogs were not allowed to enter. Venessa came to see us in the playroom for one reason, and one reason only; she was bored! This was also the reason she was attracted to Tristan, you see, Tristan loved to entertain. Vanessa was a tough audience. She did not care for the visits from the local humane society; they brought puppies and kittens. Puppies and kittens were not smart, according to Vanessa. They don't know how to do anything, but to be held and pet. Petting and holding were not things that Vanessa was interested in, she wanted to see some action, and Tristan provided action.
Tristan could sit and lie down and stay. He could speak on command and retrieve things I threw. Tristan was so intent on working for treats, he did not care if Vanessa petted him.
Vanessa would think of new tricks for me to teach Tristan between our visits. He didn't learn all of her suggested tricks, but he learned enough of them to impress Vanessa.
As the months went by, the circle that kept Tristan away from Vanessa grew smaller and smaller. Other dogs in our group were not allowed inside this new, smaller circle. The hospital staff told me that Vanessa would ask the nurses, "what do you think Tristan is doing now?" throughout the day. She was very concerned about how he spent his day when he wasn't performing for her.
You can probably guess what happened. Tristan dictated a letter to me to send to his friend Vanessa. It included a timetable of the people who came and went from the house during the day, and the surrounding events, so Vanessa could look at her clock in the hospital and know what Tristan was doing at his house. He had many responsibilities: he had to periodically patrol the premises, looking out of the front and back windows to bark at any rabbits that had strayed into the yard. He knew what time the school bus came and would watch over the children as they got on or off the bus on his corner. This was very hard work, so his timetable included frequent, short naps, so that he would have the energy required to do the job. He also had the important job of collecting the dishes after all the dogs ate, (this was one of Vanessa's favorite tricks to watch Tristan perform in the hospital).
Vanessa never did pet Tristan. But she did something that was even more important than petting Tristan. You see, when Tristan performed he would get hot, and he would need a drink. Since Tristan was a "very smart puppy", according to Vanessa, he couldn't do it as an ordinary dog and drink out of a bowl; Vanessa would hold Tristan's very special spray bottle and stick it into Tristan's mouth and pump the trigger so that Tristan could have a drink. This simple ritual became a very important part of both Vanessa and Tristan's lives. Although it's not a typical story of a therapeutic dog and a sick little girl, I hope it's uniqueness can inspire other dog owners to see what special qualities their dogs have to share. Vanessa is gone. I like to think Vanessa still watches Tristan perform for children in hospitals, from above. And Tristan? Tristan is now seven years old, and he doesn't drink from the spray bottle with the enthusiasm he once had. He is however, still thrilled to go visit and perform for those who are isolated due to age, disability or illness.
Silk, Helpmate In Healing
Preface: I have always had a very deep love and respect for animals. Animals are God's gift to man. I have long desired combining my love for animals with my medical background in order to help others. This is how Pet Therapy at Cottage Hospital began. I started the program in October 1989. I visited our first patient with my faithful companion, Silk, a beautiful male Samoyed, who at this time was fourteen months old.
Event: October 1989. Mary was only the second patient with whom we employed Pet Therapy.
Mary, a tiny wisp of a lady, (80 lbs. soaking wet) was in her late 60's and hailed from Bakersfield, Ca. She and her husband, Rob, were retired and enjoying life. Without warning, Mary was struck with a very acute onset of dementia, confusion and incontinence.
The doctors in Bakersfield told Rob that it was "alzheimers," and nothing could be done. Rob was devastated by this news; not wanting or able to accept it, he made arrangements to bring her to Cottage Hospital for a complete neurological work up.
It was subsequently discovered that she was suffering from hydrocephalus ( an accumulation of fluid around the brain). Once this diagnosis was confirmed, immediate surgery was scheduled to insert a shunt.
At this point in time, Mary would not respond to anyone or anything. She would not open her eyes or communicate verbally. Sadly, she resembled a rag doll. If I lifted an arm, it would flop listlessly, a dead weight on the starched white sheets. She was a total lift to get into a chair and then had to be propped up.
We were all elated when the surgery was over and the shunt was in place and functioning. However, post operatively there was no improvement. Her doctors and family were bitterly disappointed. No one could understand why she wasn't responding. Nothing worked...medical options were exhausted. Rob became extremely depressed. Why not try Pet Therapy?
Preparations were made and Mary was propped in a wheelchair and taken to the gym.
I brought Silk into the gym and put him up on the workout bench so that he was at Mary's eye level. Next, I pulled her wheelchair very close to Silk. Silk, being a tender 14 months old, still had a tendency to lick. He leaned forward and licked Mary's hand. She gigged! Silk licked her hand again and again. Mary let out a deep hearty laugh. Her eyes flew open and she was face to face with Silk.
With an excited voice she exclaimed, "Oh, what a beautiful white dog!! What is his name?"
With this miracle unfolding, I looked into Mary's eyes (which had not been open for 4-6 weeks) and noticed that she had had some eye surgery.
"Mary," I said, "It looks like you have had some eye surgery."
"Oh yes," she said, "I had a cataract removed in September."
Mary was alert and oriented. She didn't know what day it was, but I wouldn't either if I'd been unresponsive for six weeks!!!
Unfortunately Rob was not present in the gym to witness this extraordinary event, as he had left a short time earlier to run some errands. When he returned we ushered him to the waiting room at the end of the hall.
Mary walked unassisted from her room to where Rob sat waiting. As she approached him, he burst into joyful tears. (nothing gets to me more than a crying man...there wasn't a dry eye on the whole 5th floor).
Over the next few days Mary made remarkable progress. Her doctors and family were ecstatic. On the morning of her discharge Mary said to me, "There is only one thing in the whole wide world that I would like."
I said, "Well what's that?" She answered, "To see Silk one more time."
Their reunion was joyful, tearful and unforgettable. A month later Mary and Rob walked into my office. She looked radiant and wonderful. One would never have suspected how ill she'd been or what had happened to her.
Having had this experience has given me proof and confirmation of what I've always known in my heart. There is an inexplicable bond of love between humans and animals that transcends comprehension.
Silk, mine and God's helpmate, were blessed to be a part of Mary's miracle. I don't pretend to understand it. I don't want to anylize it. I accept it with gratitude, awe and thanksgiving.
Sandra Marotto,
BSRN/ Admitting Nurse/Pet Therapy Coordinator
Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital