Covid-19 – Page 6 – Me and the Doods.com

A Rough Day at the Beach

Generally I try to keep my posts positive, especially now. More and more people are talking about how stressed they feel and how much they need a time out. Whether they’re on the front lines like my daughter Nicole working in the ICU or have kids in virtual school at home like my youngest, Danielle, people are doing their best to hang in there but it’s tough.

It’s inspiring to see how many are reaching out to help each other cope. This week, unfortunately, I had an incident with someone who definitely wasn’t. I apologize but I need to vent.

With the unseasonably warm weather, my husband and I took the dogs down to the beach. While he went to sit on the sand and watch the huge waves, I went for a walk with Gus and Stanley on a path that runs along the ocean. It felt safe because there were no bikes allowed and almost everyone we passed was wearing a mask.

As I was starting to relax and enjoy the day, a teenage boy, without a mask, came barreling toward us on his bike. I pulled the dogs close and turned my back to him. That’s when he yelled at me in language that I won’t even repeat as he sped by. He went so low as to use the “old” word.

ELBEE That’s what really got her.

I admit the “old” word was unsettling, Who yells at a grandma walking her dogs? And so much for my theory that a mask makes you look younger.

Thank goodness I had Gus and Stanley with me for support. Neither one would make a very good guard dog. Gus sprints past houses where dogs have barked at him. Still, in that situation I felt less vulnerable with them at my side. Stanley leaned against me, probably keeping me from saying something totally inappropriate in response.

I debated about sharing this but sadly that encounter is such a sign of the times. What I truly find sad is that this is not an isolated incident. There is so much divisiveness when we all really need to come together. We hear the rhetoric but when it becomes that personal, it’s disturbing.

Once we got home, Gus and Stanley went into therapy dog overdrive. They followed me around the house (even more so than usual). Gus nudged me with his paws. Stanley threw himself down next to me.

The behavior of the dogs is so instinctual and so kind. I personally benefited from it that day. I also see it whenever Gus and Stanley or their buddies in the People Animal Connection are visiting in the hospital. There are lessons we can learn from them about unconditional love and acceptance.

Photo credit to Doug Morrow

Have a Grateful Heart

Some weeks are so difficult, it makes it hard to write a feel good post. I felt like that when wildfires were blazing in California. I even drove out to see the devastation for myself. The pandemic has given me pause. This week it’s the riots and the deaths in our nation’s capital.

What keeps me going is the hope that I can give people a moment of positivity.

ELBEE Trust me she is no Polyanna but she tries.

It’s also an opportunity to reach out and stay connected to family and friends, more important than ever with all of the social distancing. Coincidentally, a friend just left a message saying that she hoped I’d keep posting during these dark times.

Two things inspired me today. The first was the sweetener Truvia.

ELBEE Not again

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, there are sayings on each of the packets. They’re very positive, like a morning boost with your coffee. This one said, “Have a grateful heart.”

The second was the throwback photo on the left that a friend recently texted. It’s “baby” Stanley being socialized at the gym in the hopes of following in his big brothers’ paw prints. It led me to find this photo of Stanley starting his first day as a therapy dog at UCLA Medical Center.

As I began looking back at older posts, I was so thankful for the photos. Here are a few of the special ones that I was given permission to share.

Charley and Elbee comforted my dear friend Tracy’s wonderful dad shortly before he passed.

Gus offered his special love to two very sick children.

Stanley cheered up a teen waiting for a heart transplant and helped a nervous student relax.

Although the situations were all difficult, the unconditional love of the dogs brightened each one. These photos brought it into focus. The therapy dog journey that I am privileged to share is an integral part of my gratitude.

I am so looking forward to the day when we are safe from COVID-19 and the dogs can go back into the hospitals. For now Zoom visits will have to do. They make it harder to get the patients involved and can be chaotic when Gus and Stanley compete for screen time but at least there’s a dog presence, even virtually.

On Zoom I put Gus and Stanley in silly outfits and have them do tricks. In the hospital all they have to do is sit on the bed or roll over for a belly rub. There is comfort in simply petting or hugging them.

I will never forget the woman at UCLA whose baby was blind. I brought Gus into the room and she gently ran the boy’s hands and feet through his hair. Then she looked at me and quietly shared that it was his very first interaction with a dog. My heart will always be grateful for that moment.

Looking to the New Year

I’m writing this post as the clock counts down to midnight on New Years eve. I may even do a load of laundry later.

ELBEE That is just sad.

As this crazy year finally comes to a close, like so many others, I’m trying to sort things out. Gus and Stanley are at my side, as they have been so often during the past several months.

It’s hard to believe how normal things were just a year ago and even in January and February. Then in March the realization sank in that life was not normal.

On March 11th I took Gus into UCLA for his recertification. Though it was our regular visiting day in the hospital, after I went to the conference room for his testing, out of an abundance of caution, I skipped our units. Then two days later the dog visits were all cancelled.

At the time we thought it would be temporary. Now here it is months later and we still haven’t been back into the hospital. This has been the year of Zoom and virtual visits, two things I’d never heard of before.

A few days ago, I was walking the dogs in the neighborhood when two little girls on the other side of the street with their dad called out, “Hi Gus and Stanley.” Having only met the girls once or twice before and having socially distanced, I was surprised that they remembered their names.

They giggled as they asked if they could see Gus dance again or Stanley play peek-a-boo. I so wished I could have crossed over and let them hug the dogs.

It made me think about what other Dood things I’m looking forward to when, hopefully, the world turns right side up again this year.

Here are just a few:

The joy in the hospital lobbies when people see Gus and Stanley walk in the door

The noisy excitement of the kids in neuropsch at UCLA as soon as they see the dogs

The nervous or depressed patients who relax when Gus or Stanley cuddles next to them on their beds

The smile of the man at the adult health center who only smiles when the dogs are visiting

The hospital staff, patients and family members who say, “this made my day” as soon as they hug Gus or Stanley

The honor of holding their leashes as, once again, I am privileged to witness small miracles

Every one of their visits will be more special to me. Not for a moment will I take for granted that I have been given the gift of sharing my beautiful dogs, of helping people heal, beginning with Charley so many years ago.

From now on, every visit that we do, whether virtual or in person, will be dedicated to the thousands whom we have lost to COVID-19. May the love that Gus and Stanley give so freely honor their memories.

Can You Headstand?

Staying in shape during the pandemic is often difficult. The isolation and stress can lead to a real lack of motivation. To make it worse, regular fitness centers are closed. I’ve seen pilates classes in parking lots and martial arts in back alleys. Neither one screams “come join us.” Though I was a fitness instructor for many years, it’s even hard for me to push myself.

GUS & STANLEY What about the expression “Trainer, train yourself?”

CHARLEY Sorry boys but I believe the expression is “Physician, heal thyself.”

Fortunately, I have some weights at home and am still doing more pushups than the average prisoner but it’s really the call of the wild that saves me.

ELBEE Call of the wild? Marked hiking trails in the Santa Monica Mountains with ocean views

I’m very lazy about stretching. My friend Mary, on the other hand, is great about doing yoga. She can go through an hour’s worth of poses. Although I took yoga for years, when I tried a couple of classes on line, I got nauseous.

As we were talking and I was trying to find out how she gets herself to do it, a thought occurred to me. I wondered if she could still do a headstand, a point of pride among us seniors. When I asked, she matter of factly replied, “I do one every day.” The seed was planted. It had been a long time but could I still do one?

A few days later, as I was waiting for the dogs’ Zoom call with UCLA to start, I still had headstands on the brain. With my ADD, it’s hard for me to just sit and wait, so I thought what better time to try a headstand.

I texted Jen, the director of the People Animal Connection, who would be running the meeting and said “I’m trying to do a headstand.” Instead of texting back, “Are you crazy?”she replied, “I CAN do a headstand.” A few minutes later she texted that she’d just done one in the middle of her office. Fortunately, she was alone.

To my surprise, after a few, well several, tries, I made it. I was using a dresser as a security blanket but I was upside down

For some time, Jen and I have been discussing how we can make Zoom calls with the patients more interesting. We considered singing but we’re both terrible. Were we on to something with the headstands? Was AGT next? Granted she is much better and doesn’t need to use the dresser, but I’d be content to be backup headstander.

After the meeting, we were again on the topic of making our calls more engaging. I remembered Jen mentioning something about piano. When I asked if she could play, she said that she’d taken lessons as a child but now only played her kids’ tiny toy piano.

As a child, I had taken ballet lessons. Suddenly inspired, I jumped up and did a few pirouettes and port de bras. Maybe I still had it.

GUS & STANLEY We thought she was having a seizure.

What? No Singing?

As far back as my days volunteering with Charley, caroling at UCLA has been an annual tradition. Several of the People Anima Connection teams walk through the hospital, dressed in festive attire, spreading holiday cheer.

Unfortunately, in this year of the pandemic, the event was canceled. Aside from the obvious reasons, I was also selfishly sad because I’d miss the chance to sing. I may not be the greatest, but it’s so much fun to join the chorus. To be honest, most of us are more enthusiastic than musically inclined.

ELBEE In junior high she had to lip synch to be in the choir.

In the early days, a woman named Marilee, who has an absolutely beautiful voice, would lead the caroling. Almost entirely because of her, we sounded pretty good. Not until she retired and we were on our own, did we realize just how truly terrible we were.

In one of our recent Zoom “yappy hours,” someone reminded us of how painful our singing was during that first year without Marilee. One of the doctors heard us and asked why they didn’t let the dogs sing instead. After that fiasco, they added student a cappella groups so we went back to feeling like we were fabulous.

Anyone familiar with my singing knows that it’s not good but that has never stopped me. Recently with all of the Zoom visits I’ve been doing with the dogs, I began thinking how a song or two would be such a great way to grab patients’ attention and cheer them up. They like it when Gus dances or Stanley dances with me so why not add a song or two.

I mentioned it to Jen, the director of PAC and she was on the same page. We’ve done several Zoom calls together plus she monitors our virtual visits with the kids in the neuropsych units. She knows that it takes a bit of something extra to keep patients engaged. By the way, although I haven’t heard her sing, I have a feeling her voice is about the same caliber as mine.

ELBEE Trust me.

Last week during a group virtual visit, when we were taking turns introducing ourselves and our dogs, one of the volunteers broke out in a Christmas carol… in tune! Having discussed the singing idea but never having acted on it, I’m sure I can safely speak for me and Jen when I say that we were both a little jealous

This week during the virtual volunteer holiday party, they introduced a UCLA student who, inspired by her grandfather, had done some amazing charitable work. Next thing we knew, she was playing a lovely classical piece on the piano. I immediately texted Jen, “We don’t stand a chance, musically speaking.”

Wishing you safe, happy and harmonious holidays from me and the Doods. Let’s hope that next year, tone deaf or not, we’ll be back in the hospital bringing joy, love and laughter to everyone.

Put Something Good Out There

When I write, inspiration comes from so many different places. This week it was from a packet of the sweetener Truvia.

ELBEE Seriously?

The packets have positive sayings on them. It’s like a fortune cookie with your coffee. They say things like “Find Your Open Door,” or “Do It for You.” The one that said, “Put Something Good Out There,” really struck a chord.” What better way to help each other in these challenging times.

To be honest, I thought my bench press photos were pretty good, especially for a grandma. They entertained people and possibly made them laugh.

ELBEE That is the worst justification for craziness that I’ve ever heard and she can’t stop sharing the pictures. I’m surprised that none of her bodybuilding photos have resurfaced lately.

ELBEE I spoke too soon.

With that in mind, when I saw a recent photo of Chelsea Handler doing a plank with a dog on her back, I had to give it a try.

GUS I was so embarrassed.

STANLEY And I hate to brag, but I think we know who really does the heavy lifting.

Seriously, I’ve been trying hard to focus on the positive lately, to look for the good that people are putting out there.

In a helpful gesture, someone left these bottles of water and this bag of oranges near a trailhead.

A neighbor, offering encouragement, carefully placed these hand-painted rocks next to the sidewalk.

A man seemed to pull away as I was walking by with Gus and Stanley. Thinking he might be afraid, I asked if he was okay with them. He said “I just stepped back to admire them. I can feel their energy and it’s a blessing.” His kindness made me smile behind my mask,

Although I’ve been very cautious over the past several months, I have tried to give back when I can. If a child or parent calls out to the dogs, I’m happy to put on a sidewalk show from across the street.

ELBEE She is a total ham with an excuse.

A woman walking by with a little boy of about 7 or 8, clinging to her leg, asked me if I could possibly bring them closer. She explained that the child was severely autistic but that petting the dogs would be very helpful.

We were all masked and I carry Purell so I decided to go over. She gently cleaned the boy’s hands and helped him touch the dogs. The interaction was so simple but I could see the gratitude in her eyes.

It’s true. I may bench press Gus and Stanley and hold their leashes, but they really do the heavy lifting. They put something good out there.

Pandemic Fatigue

Like seemingly everyone I’ve spoken to this week, I’m feeling pandemic fatigue. Of course a large part of it is dealing with the unimaginable loss of life. It’s hard to believe that those ever-growing numbers represent loved ones who are gone, leaving empty spaces. It’s difficult to see the toll it’s taking on front line workers.

There is also a more mundane and maybe selfish side to the fatigue. When the rules changed in March, who would have ever believed that in December we’d be living in this surreal world. Things we took for granted like going to the movies or the gym are virtually impossible.

Speaking of virtual, most of my visits with family and friends are on the computer. Social distancing has kept us physically if not emotionally apart. Instead of asking the daughters if they want to come over, I ask “Can you FaceTime later?” What I wouldn’t give to hug them. Gus and Stanley have done so many virtual visits, that when they see my laptop on the floor, they know it’s their time to shine.

Now that I’ve vented, let me see if I can help with a note of positivity.

ELBEE Thank goodness. She was dragging me down a really deep hole.

I was taking Gus and Stanley for one of our regular walks up a residential street that leads into the surrounding mountains. All of a sudden I heard very loud music coming from a black Jeep parked by the side of the road. Then I saw her. A young girl with buzzed hair and a great figure, wearing a sports bra and tights, was dancing by the open driver’s door.

She wasn’t just doing a few steps. She was doing full on hip hop, moving with abandon. She circled around the car and then danced into the middle of the road. It was like a music video with no cameras filming.

In normal times I probably would have been more surprised but during the pandemic, the unusual has become expected. The grandma in me would have been concerned that she was all over the street but instead I was a little jealous.

ELBEE Probably because she looked so fabulous.

There was a part of me that wanted to join in.

GUS & STANLEY That would have been so embarrassing. We’re pretty well known in the neighborhood.

Fortunately, I came to my senses. My last dance class was ballet when I was pregnant with Danielle and it wasn’t pretty.

As I continued to watch her an expression came to mind, “dance like no one is watching.” That’s exactly what she was doing. Focusing on the music and the movement seemed to be giving her such freedom and joy. In these difficult days, don’t we all need something to bring us to that place.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

Thanksgiving morning I woke up bright and early and did one of my favorite things.

ELBEE It wasn’t making a turkey.

GUS & STANLEY “Bright and early?” We were up first and we like to sleep in.

Much as I hate to admit it, Elbee is right. I am not a big fan of preparing turkeys. I was thrilled a few years ago when I found out you could purchase them precooked.

Instead, I went for a hike. Due to COVID-19, no family or friends were coming to dinner. We were going to be celebrating with the dogs. There was no big table to set, no turkey and sides to prepare, so I had plenty of time.

As I made my way up a steep trail, I felt the sadness of it all. Like so many other people I would miss having everyone together, talking and laughing. I would even miss the noise and chaos of the dogs competing for attention from the grandkids.

As I so often do, I felt the mountains lift my spirits. I enjoyed the views, watched hawks soaring overhead, did a few pushups.

ELBEE She had to throw that in.

Being out in nature, helped to put things in perspective. It comforted me. This one yellow bush sunflower in the midst of the browned out vegetation seemed to be a sign.

When I came back down to reality, I prepared a few things for me and the husband. I made my famous stuffing and decadent sweet potatoes. There was only one snag in the menu, Pollo Loco was closed and we had to pick up Kentucky Fried Chicken.

ELBEE The truth comes out.

Before we sat down to eat, when I would normally would have been a stress case trying to get all of the food on the table, I took Gus and Stanley for a walk. As we made our way through the neighborhood, it was strangely quiet for a holiday. It reminded me of the silent school yards in the beginning of the pandemic.

There were few cars parked on the street, few extra lights on. There was little laughter coming from the houses. I saw one family celebrating in their garage, all in masks. I smelled a few barbecues.

Just as the sadness of it was hitting me again, two women walked by on the other side of the street. One was elderly, using a walker. The other seemed to be her helper. They both waved and commented on how cute the dogs were.

As we chatted from a distance, the older woman wanted to know all about them. Naturally, I had Gus dance and Stanley do his silly peek-a-boo. She was completely taken with them. When we said goodbye and began to move away, she called out, “Thank you so much. You have really cheered me up.” Once again, the dogs brought the power of gratitude into focus.

My Friend Dennis

My friend Dennis is kind, understanding and a good listener. Best of all he is really funny. He is the one who came to my defense and told my granddaughter that I was “unconventional” when the oldest daughter told her that I was “cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

Right now he is a COVID-19 warrior. He battled the illness at home for a week and then in the hospital for several days. It made it very real when someone close to me, someone I love and care deeply about, was directly affected. I hear disturbing stories from Nicole, the daughter who is an ICU nurse, but this put a face on the virus.

I am his honorary bubbie. On the countless hours that we’ve spent hiking we’ve talked about anything and everything. There is no judgment. We adhere strictly to the unspoken rule that “what we say on the trail stays on the trail.” He does trail pushups with me whether he wants to or not. When I’m about to yell at a biker who has flown by with no bell, Dennis tells me to let it go into the universe.

ELBEE I can’t believe she’s still having biker issues.

Of course, he is also a dog lover. We text so much during Westminster that we could be doing color commentary. Last year he lost his 19 year old Italian Greyhound who could probably have rivaled the Doods for being the most spoiled dog in town.

Speaking of the Doods, Dennis has known them all. He has supported my work with them and cheered on my writing about them. The picture on the left is a throwback photo from a Red Cross Gala with Dennis and Charley, my very first therapy dog. The one on the right is with Stanley when he was still just a big puppy on one of his first official hikes.

**Dennis & Charley, My First Therapy Dog**

**Dennis & Stanley, My 4th Therapy Dog**

What has impressed and amazed me throughout Dennis’s difficult journey is his attitude. He has stayed positive as he has dealt with each challenge. He doesn’t give in to self pity. When the daughters checked in with him, he was appreciative. When the youngest sent him a get well video from her kids, he said that it cheered him up.

He has also maintained his sense of humor. We joked when the hospital served him chicken soup, that it was “Jewish penicillin.” When he felt well enough, He sent funny memes and silly texts from his hospital bed.

Dennis is home now but still toughing it out. COVID is very demanding. Still, his main complaint this week was that his cable was out which made binge watching his favorite shows impossible.

I have a special request for anyone reading this post. I would really appreciate it if you would take a moment to send love, positivity and healing energy to my fabulous friend Dennis.

Thank You for Your Service

Last week, Danielle, the youngest daughter, called to ask about veterans in our family for a project in my granddaughter’s class. As I listed family members who had served, it made me really start thinking about the holiday.

ELBEE Probably because she has too much time on her hands.

My husband was a Lt. Commander in the Navy. My father and a few uncles served in WW II. Another uncle, a career military, was a Colonel in the Air Force.

It brought to mind this photo of my great grandmother Ella, taken in the early forties. There was a newspaper article attached but it has disappeared with time. What hasn’t disappeared is the sense of pride.

She’s holding stars for each of her relatives, including my father, who was representing their country.

This year, the year of COVID 19, has become so much about service. The pandemic, for all its difficulties, has given us time to remember and to reflect.

The Doods celebrated the holiday in the most meaningful way possible. They did a virtual visit with the kids in the neuropsych unit at UCLA. What better way to honor all of our veterans who have served than to make their own contribution.

I dressed Stanley and Gus in the red, white and blue accessories that the dogs have worn for past holidays and parades. There were no parades last Wednesday, but the smiles on the faces of the teens as they joined us on Zoom were a celebration.

“Thank you for your service.” Those five simple words say so much. Someone spoke them to me and the Doods the other day and I was unbelievably touched.

A huge thank you to all of the veterans who have served. This year there are so many others who deserve our gratitude too. Nicole, the middle daughter who, ironically was born at Camp Pendleton, is an ICU nurse. She has given me a deeper understanding of what she and her fellow front line workers are going through. From the bottom of my heart, a sincere thank you to her and to each and every one of them.

Thank you to family and friends who offer love and support, even if it’s just with a text saying “I’m thinking about you.” Thank you to neighbors who reach out to help, offering to pick up groceries. Thank you to the strangers who, masks and all, smile and wave.

A huge thank you to Gus and Stanley for your calming presence. Which reminds me, a shout out to our vet, as in veterinarian.

ELBEE That may be her most inappropriate segue yet.

Last week, with everything so heightened, I panicked when we found a growth over Gus’s right eye. I raced to the vet without an appointment but was fortunate enough to run into her in the parking lot. She took one look and reassured me that it was only a cyst. Treatment was a success and we’re both doing fine.