Our big male Irish wolfhound Wallace has become a firm favourite for some as a therapy dog doing hospital visits, and we are often stopped by people in various places to be told that they met us at the hospital, and how much it meant to them and/or the patients. It makes it all worth while to know that sometimes it is possible to make a difference. That said, not everybody likes dogs, and even if they do, Wallace is a daunting proposition to some patients who find the concept of a dog that can just lean over the rails of a hospital bed without lifting his feet from the ground a bit much. And then there are those who are genuinely scared of dogs, and do not wish to have any of the dogs anywhere near them. All of the handlers are sympathetic and sensitive to these fears, but Jana and I, because we have by far the largest dogs, are particularly careful about peoples reactions. On the visit in question, we had only five dogs (and handlers), a four year old miniature Dachshund cross called Suzie who usually pairs up with Wallace, two beautiful, lively young golden retrievers, Chelsea, our female Great Dane, and of course Wallace. After the customary moment of contemplation, and a reminder to always have proof of inoculations, tick and flea treatments and de-worming treatments with us when we came on a hospital visit, the usual cleaning of paws and wiping away drool, we set of to spread the happiness to all the patients who wanted to talk to us. The first port of call, as always, was the children’s ward, a mixed blessing for me, as it is not pleasant to see young children suffering from serious illnesses or injury, but the reaction from the kids can be utterly amazing. So often, even though in some cases Wallace is taller than they are, you have children running up and literally throwing themselves at him in their joy to see such a massive, hairy creature. While this would be a problem with some dogs, Wallace does not react, and stands for much stroking of hair in the wrong direction, small hands in ears, eyes and mouth, pulling of tail and general hanging onto any part that the child can hold onto. All five of the dogs on this visit love children, so it was an exceptionally pleasant interlude. Even the young black child who had never seen a dog according to his parents was prepared to touch Wallace as long as his father held him in the air above Wallaces back. The next ward, which we all typically visit, was the oncology ward, Janas personal nightmare. But for once, all the patients that we were permitted to visit were happy, looking forward to going home soon, and generally glad to see and talk to the dogs. After we had finished our visit with the patients (and nurses) in the oncology ward, we usually split up to cover the medical and surgical wards, otherwise the visits take too long, and we end up overstaying our welcome. Hospitals in my experience rather frown on anyone who is not staff being in the building after the end of the last visiting hour of the day. Once again, Wallace was paired up with Suzie, a little gag that never gets old, and Chelsea joined the two golden retrievers to make up the other team, as there are typically have more patients in the medical wards than in the surgical wards, and Joan, Suzies handler and our hospital visit group leader, had opted for the surgical wards. When Wallace and Suzie are together, the routine is always the same. Joan will pop her head into a room, ask the patient or patients if they would like to have a visit from the dogs, and then, depending on the answer, will chat for a while from the doorway and then move on, or will take Suzie in for the visit. If the people want to talk to the dogs, I wait outside unless it is a multi bed room, while Joan lifts Suzie up onto a towel on the edge of the bed, and the patients have a chance to talk to Suzie. Once the patients have had a chance to talk to Suzie for a bit, Joan will ask if they would like to see a slightly bigger dog. If they answer yes, I bring Wallace in through the door. Depending on the reaction, I then either back Wallace out of the room, or we go ahead with the visit. I have no intention of making anyone uncomfortable, and aside from which, Wallace is usually involved with impromptu photo-shoots if he is not in a room visiting. Actually, he is more often then not involved in impromptu photo-shoots when he is in a room visiting. So while Joan and I did our tag team bit, Jana was having a super visit with Chelsea and the two golden retrievers, the highlight of which was a very elderly blind patient who had evidently been in hospital for a while. As Jana tells it, Chelsea was up first, and the lady stroked her from nose to tail, delighted to have a dog visit. Once she had finished with Chelsea, it was the turn of the golden retrievers. The moment they put their head on the edge of the bed, the poor old dear burst into copious floods of tears. It turns out that she has a golden retriever as a guide dog, and they have been together for a very long time. When she was admitted to hospital, she had to leave the dog in care as there was no way the hospital could accommodate the dog, and she was missing it terribly. Chelsea was forgotten as the old lady played with the two retrievers, who were so delighted with the special attention that I am told they become quite excited and jumped around, and at one point even wanted to climb onto the bed. Jana tells me it was a heart warming moment. On our side of the building, Joan and I were progressing well, and Wallace was once more was doing his Pied Piper bit, with a retinue of children and young teenagers following in his wake. I find it touching that they make such a strong connection in such a short time, even though it is a bit worrying when they try to follow one home! Please at the positive reaction the dogs were getting, and the good that they seemed to be doing, I hardly noticed the time rushing by. We were all but finished when we came to the room of a tall young black man, probably in his mid twenties, with his leg in traction. His bed was placed so that he could see though the doorway, and although he was partially propped up in bed, it was plain to see that he had a strong, athletic build and was in good physical shape, aside from the leg. Joan greeted him, and asked him if he would like a visit from the dogs. He nodded his head, but did not speak to Joan, rather stared intently at Wallace as though he had never seen such a sight in his life. Joan went in, and after asking, placed Suzies towel on the side of the bed, and lifted Suzie up onto the towel, but still the patient paid Suzie and Joan no attention at all, continuing to stare at Wallace. Seeing that Suzie was not getting any attention, Joan asked the patient if he would rather speak to the bigger dog. Again he nodded, saying nothing, and continued starting at Wallace. Joan called on me to bring Wallace in, and we started into the room, still a good six or so feet away from the bed. The patient suddenly sat bolt upright in the bed, and shrieked “SISTER” at the top of his lungs! He grabbed for the emergency call box and started stabbing at the buttons, all the while shrieking “SISTER, SISTER, SISTER”. Unfortunately, he had not grabbed the emergency call box, but rather the bed control, so his frantic stabbing at the buttons resulted in the bed dancing about like a possessed skeleton, no doubt adding to his disquiet. It was obvious that we were not welcome, so I backed Wallace away as quickly as I could. Joan grabbed Suzie and towel, and fled with as much dignity as was possible in the situation, narrowly avoiding being bowled of her feet by the flailing bed, and the two nursing sisters who rushed into the room as she was leaving. One of the nursing sisters grabbed the bed control from the still shrieking patient before he hurt himself, while the other tried to quite him down. Outside the room, and out of sight of the patient, we regrouped. The patient had finally stopped yelling for the sister, and was now yelling at the nursing sisters, asking how it was that such a monster could be permitted into a hospital, and did the nursing sisters not know that he could have been eaten alive, or words to that effect. While I am not completely sure that my translation is correct, could swear that one of the nursing sisters eventually told him he was an idiot, and that they were therapy dogs, and he was in more danger from the bed than from the dogs. That finally shut him up. Joan had the last word though, on the way out. She summed the situation up as “A bit unusual”. That it was!
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 14:04:07 +0000
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