heroes – Page 2 – Me and the Doods.com

The Power of Connection

Surprisingly, even after this year of Zoom and FaceTime, I’m still struggling with social media. The dogs are better at it than I am. My dreams of being a grandma influencer are history.

ELBEE She can’t tell a hashtag from a hash brown and thinks that tweeting is something birds do.

My tech support team which consists of Ryder and Bella, my five and seven year old grandchildren, has threatened to quit.

Samantha, my twelve year old granddaughter, who can make a Tik Tok video as easily as I can blow my nose, has patiently tried to help.

ELBEE That is a horrible analogy. Speaking of noses, the only time she’s gone viral is when she’s had a cold.

What I do appreciate, even with my limited presence and expertise on social media, is the opportunity it provides to connect with one another. Through Facebook, I’ve reconnected with cousins that I haven’t seen in years, even ones who live across the world. I’ve heard from college friends and from hospital people who miss the dogs.

The most gratifying part of writing my blog is the response from friends who express how much they relate to what I’ve overshared. They tell me they feel the same way or that I’ve made them laugh. Over the past several months, we may not have been able to share a hug but we’ve stayed together.

The Zoom calls have kept the kids in the neuropsych units connected with Gus and Stanley. When they applaud the dogs’ tricks or tell me about their own pets, I know it’s working. The calls will never replace in-person visits, but they do fill a void.

Last week, more that ever, I realized that social media can offer a very special form of connection. With her blessing, I reached out to let others know how my daughter Nicole, an ICU nurse, was dealing with the aftermath of COVID. She wanted her fellow front line workers to know that they were not alone.

It was touching to see how people responded. They sent messages of love and support. They expressed gratitude for the work that she’d done. They asked if there was any way that they could help. It meant so much to her and to me.

Connection is always important but during difficult times it is crucial, whether in person or on social media. People cope differently, but reaching out to each other is one way to heal and move forward

It is also at the heart of what our therapy dogs do. Whether snuggling, rolling over for a belly rub or sitting quietly by our sides, their simple presence speaks to the power of connection.

A Morning of Love and Gratitude

Wednesday, for nurse appreciation day, six of the PAC dogs, three in Santa Monica and three in Westwood, did in person hospital visits. Normally, it would have been considered a special event, but since it was the first time the dogs had been back in over a year, it was a cause for celebration.

From the moment I checked in with Stanley and met up with his “co-workers,” Kennedy and Oliver, in the outdoor courtyard, there was a pervasive feeling of joy. The dogs were just as excited to be back as everyone was to have them back.

I spoke with several of the nurses and no matter their specialty, they shared how difficult the pandemic has been. It was even apparent from their tone of voice. Hard working and dedicated, nurses have always been heroes but this past year they have become super heroes. They were grateful to have us there. I felt gratitude at having the opportunity to say thank you.

As one person after another interacted with the dogs, I saw pure delight. They all smiled as they took photos, petted and hugged the dogs. The stress temporarily melted away. Over the last several months I’ve written about the dogs doing Zoom visits, but that morning I was overwhelmed as I was reminded of their simple in-person power.

Stanley also had a touching moment with a patient. A young man, who, I believe, was going through extensive cancer treatment, and his dad walked outside to see the dogs. Total dog lovers, we all laughed when the boy said he’d really question a relationship if his sweet dog growled at the girl. Despite the light conversation, Stanley sensed what the boy was going through physically and spent the whole time giving him the “lean.”

Later in the day, I was telling Nicole, my middle daughter who is an ICU nurse, about the visit. After an incredibly trying year taking care of innumerable COVID patients, she truly understood the emotion of the morning.

Going through a rough time herself, she asked me to share this message. She wants to reach out to others who are coping with the aftermath of the past year. She’d like them to know that what they are going through is real. There is no shame in reaching out for help.

Last weekend, after a few particularly difficult days with multiple unexplainable symptoms, she came to sleep over. As she, my husband and I put it all together, it became clear that she has a form of PTSD. It was almost a relief to have figured it out.

Acknowledging what she is dealing with, she is getting help and has developed coping mechanisms. She wants her fellow nurses and other front line workers to know that they are not alone. Offering each other love, support and understanding is an important step in moving forward.

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.

With a Little Help from a Friend

I was in a quandary this week.

ELBEE A quandary? She must be taking one of those vocabulary for seniors classes.

Thanks to my dear friend Lillian, realtor by day and now agent for me and the Doods at night, we were going to be filmed at the hospital for a show that will air early next year on Animal Planet.

Lillian, by her own admission, is not a crazy dog lover, but she loves and supports the work that the dogs do. When she found out that her friend Salvy was co-producer of a program called Dog Masters, which features dogs with behavioral issues as well as a segment on working dogs, she immediately hooked us up.

ELBEE It was like a dating app for dog people.

Should I bring Gus who was experienced and would do a perfect job or should I bring Stanley, who at seventeen months, could go either way? That was my dilemma. After an informal poll, Stanley won by a slight margin.

On filming day we arrived at UCLA Medical Center and were greeted by Salvy, the hosts of the show Alex and Laura, as well as the crew. Stanley, sensing that the attention was focused on him, was in his element. He did drama for Alex. He kissed up to the camera man.

When I did an interview with the director, he stayed right by my side.

Doing room visits on the floors, I was so focused on Stanley that I almost forgot there were cameras following us.

ELBEE Unfortunately, she also forgot she was miked!

It was all about his interactions with patients and staff. It was about the reactions of crew members who had never actually seen a therapy dog doing his job. I can’t remember details of most of the visits we did that day but there is one in particular that stands out and has stayed with me.

The patient was a handsome teenage boy who had been hospitalized for months, waiting for a heart transplant. He was so excited about meeting Stanley. He was delighted when I put Stanley on the bed and applauded when he did his tricks. Stanley even managed to “say his prayers,” which I didn’t know he had mastered.

What struck me most were the boy’s sweet smile and his positivity. He chatted about his own dog, his friends, about being away from home. I never heard a note of resentment. He amazed me and inspired me.

Dog Masters deals with problem dogs but it also shines a light on dogs who are heroes. How ironic, in that hospital room with my hero dog sprawled across his lap, I met a human hero.

Stanley and the Gentle Barn

At a June PAC luncheon, I was incredibly moved by the words of guest speaker Ellie Laks, the founder of the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” This week a group of us from UCLA went out to Santa Clarita to visit. The experience did not disappoint.

Rescued from deplorable conditions, a mix of animals from cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats to turkeys and chickens live in a bucolic setting. Treated with love, kindness and caring, they have learned to trust again.

I felt as if I was seeing a reflection of the best and the worst of mankind. The animals had been mistreated by people, but Ellie and her wonderful crew have brought them hope. Their names, like Blessing and Magic, are a reminder of the positive work being done. Somehow, they also contribute to a sense of peace and spirituality.

There was another part to the day that made it even more special for me. Ellie encouraged us to bring our dogs so I had Stanley with me. I was a little nervous about bringing a puppy but felt it would be a great opportunity for socializing and training. I also truly believed he could handle it. To my delight, he was so good that he surprised not only me but everyone else.

When we first arrived, he barked at a donkey standing by a fence. In his defense, he’d never seen anything that looked even remotely like a donkey. It was the last time he barked all afternoon!

Not only was he comfortable with the other dogs in our group, he was fascinated by the barn animals. When we went into the enclosure with Forgiveness, a three thousand pound genetically altered cow, he stopped briefly as if to assess, and then moved closer. He showed more curiosity than fear.

It was the horses that really caught his fancy. He went almost nose to nose with Hiro, a horse that is totally blind. There was something so gentle in their interaction. Later, standing by the outside paddock, he tried to climb through the fence to get closer to the others. He even made friends with the donkey.

Ellie was so impressed with Stanley’s temperament and judging by the photo, he was pretty impressed with her too. She said that he was the most amazing puppy she’d ever seen and felt he’d do great work. Since she is an animal guru with such empathy for them and such intuition, I could not have asked for more.

Stanley may continue to bite Elbee’s ears, counter surf, and shred newspapers but I will hear her words in my head and believe that he has something special to offer. With luck, he will one day walk bravely into the hospital by my side.

Healing

Despite having the best possible outcome, the week since the burglary has been pretty stressful. I’m good in crisis mode, it’s the aftermath where I have a problem. A friend texted me, “hope your nerves and the house are on the mend.” The house was the easy part.

Walking into UCLA with Gus (he and Elbee take turns) was a huge step in the healing process. It was all about him and his wagging tail. In the neuropsych unit, as I watched two potentially aggressive kids hug him with gentle care, I totally forgot about myself.

A visit to the ICU brought things even more into focus. Judi, a dear friend for many years, had asked if I would bring a dog to see “Sandy,” a mutual friend whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Sandy” was making slow progress recovering from a severe stroke. To everyone’s surprise, when I walked in, she immediately recognized me and reached out for Gus. She was so happy, content and even funny, as he rested with her.

In one of those strange coincidences, the patient just a few doors down was the granddaughter of very close friends. The teen had been in a car accident and had suffered broken bones and a traumatic brain injury. As Gus and I visited with her distraught grandpa, nothing else mattered except bringing him some comfort.

Driving home from the hospital, despite the difficulty of the visits, I was the calmest that I had been in days. I had spent the morning in situations where, thanks to Gus, I was able to help other people deal with their stress while forgetting about my own.

On Friday I attended a luncheon for the People Animal Connection that really put the exclamation point on the week. The camaraderie in the room was palpable because in different ways we had all shared the same magical experiences. The guest speaker was Ellie Laks from the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” There was a video tribute to Charley and several other amazing PAC dogs that we lost last year. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

It was a quote on one of the luncheon gifts, however, that inspired this post and gave me such clarity. Mahatma Gandhi said, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” My sincere gratitude to Charley, Elbee, Gus and hopefully the new puppy for leading me down this path of service. You are selfless. You are my heroes. You helped me through this week.

Gratitude

There’s something about Gus that makes the kids in the hospital want to keep him. I think it’s the cute, cuddly factor plus he fits in their laps. Even Metta World Peace felt the same way last week. By the way, that’s a tough post to follow.

Awhile ago, a little boy in the neuropsych unit at UCLA very seriously offered me $68.00 for him. I told him that I was so sorry but couldn’t sell Gus for any price. This week two boys in the teen unit really wanted to buy him. When I shared with them about the boy who had offered me $68.00, I was impressed by their reaction. They truly understood how much that amount of money must have meant to him. Then the bidding war started. When I turned down a million, one of them even went up to a trillion!

ELBEE I bet she she was tempted.

The interchange was light and fun. It totally took us out of the hospital setting. It made me think, as I often do, about the priceless work of therapy dogs. They may perform in different ways and in different settings but the heart of what they do is the same.

They offer comfort from pain, whether physical or emotional. They calm and soothe. They may even coax a reluctant smile or an unexpected laugh from someone having a rough day. They distract from a difficult reality

At times the challenges they face are almost incomprehensible. My cousin, whose sons graduated from Majorie Stoneman Douglas High School, told me that a team of Golden Retrievers had been brought in to offer comfort to the survivors of the mass shooting. Sadly, there are so many places in this country where they are needed right now.

There is a mirror with a message on the wall at Providence Tarzana Hospital that speaks so beautifully to the work of the dogs. It says, “Look at who’s making a difference. You have the power to be a healing presence in someone’s life today.” I tried a selfie with Gus but got mixed results.

ELBEE She really should have let me handle the photography.

On this Memorial Day weekend, a time of remembrance, respect and reflection, I feel such gratitude to be on the path where the dogs have led me. It’s hard to believe the journey began in 2006 when my beloved Charley taught me about pure kindness. He was also a mentor to Elbee and especially to Gus.

In the past, I’ve shared my feeling that his spirit still guides us. Nicole, the daughter in the first picture with Gus, took this amazing photo. You may think the halo is the light at a special time of day. I believe it’s Charley’s way of letting us know that he is keeping a loving watch over Gus.

For Manny

When I think of Manny Kaddour, I think of smiles. Despite the difficult nature of his work as a palliative care physician at Providence Tarzana Hospital, he always greeted everyone with a smile. With his joyful aura and enthusiasm for life, he never failed to put a smile on my face whenever I ran into him. He had the biggest heart and the most beautiful spirit.

Manny and the Doods had a mutual admiration society. No matter what he was dealing with, he always took a moment to hug the dogs and to tell them how much he loved them. They adored him in return.

As someone who cared for critically ill patients, often near the end of their lives, he truly understood and respected the unconditional love and support that they offered. I also think they provided him with a much needed time out from his day. And Manny had a sense of humor. With a twinkle in his eye, he often asked me if he could borrow the dogs because they were such “chick magnets.”

Manny passed away on March 25th at the age of 49. How ironic that someone who was so full of life and who showed such kindness and compassion for others as they passed, has left us so soon. It’s hard for me to find the words to express how much he will be missed, the void he will leave in so many lives.

Instead, I want to share some of Manny’s own words that I hope will offer comfort to all of us who are mourning his untimely passing. A year ago, after my gentle giant Charley died, Manny reached out in sympathy. He sent me this photo of himself with Charley and Gus along with a life-affirming message.

“Hi. This is Manny Kaddour from Tarzana. You are in my mind…thinking of you. It is the time to celebrate the life and remember the great times and smiles he put on thousands of faces including mine. Thanks for everything you have done. Love you.”

Thank you Manny for everything you have done. May you rest in peace.

My Inner Grinch

I have been known to indulge my inner Grinch during the holiday season. I guess you could call it my inner kvetch during Chanukah. And yes, I still binge watch Hallmark Channel movies as an antidote. But I’m afraid I may have weakened. I was about to put up a post that had absolutely nothing to do with this time of year. Then I realized I’d be sharing it on Christmas and I caved.

In retrospect I should have saved the post about caroling at UCLA or the one about the Adopt a Family program at Providence Hospital. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that far ahead. Instead I want to share a day with the Doods that for me epitomizes what this season should be about.

On Thursday morning we went to the Adult Health Center. There was a Christmas tree and there were some decorations but nothing brightened up the large room like Elbee and Gus. It didn’t matter if the participants were old or young, suffering from bipolar disorder or depression, so many just wanted to pet the dogs or hug them. A few followed us around.

An elderly woman who seemed distracted suddenly focused and told me they made her so happy. Another whispered in Spanish that they were angels.

ELBEE Finally somebody got it right.

I also found out that the quiet man who smiled for the first time in a year when he was with the dogs a few weeks ago, only smiles when they’re visiting.

After leaving the center, we drove over to see my dear friend Roberta, the one who has been battling brain cancer. She is a warrior if ever I’ve seen one. Never a complainer, she admitted how rough the treatment has been. After we chatted for awhile, the Doods took over. They love her and she loves them. I know she sneaks them treats whenever I’m not looking. For a brief time they make her forget about everything except them.

On the way home, with my two exhausted dogs in the car, it struck me just how many gifts they had given. Every single one was unselfish and priceless.

The next morning at a yoga class, Rebecca, the teacher, suggested dedicating our practice to some purpose or intent. Surprisingly, the first thought that came into my head was family and not dogs so I was kind of torn.

ELBEE That’s not funny.

Then Rebecca suggested focusing on gratitude and it made perfect sense. I apologize for any cliches or repetition but hey where’s your holiday spirit?

Working with the dogs, especially during this season, has taught me to be grateful. Seeing so many people who are slowed down by illness or injury, I feel fortunate to have my health. I am appreciative that I can write these posts even when I struggle. And yes, I truly am grateful for my family and friends.

I realized that being with the dogs as they help so many people is apparently giving therapy to my holiday spirit or lack there of. Uh oh. Are they killing my inner Grinch?

An Embarrassment of Recognition

This was a very special week. As you may have seen on Facebook, the People Animal Connection at UCLA was honored by the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors. In the words of Supervisor Sheila Kuehl, “We had such fun recognizing the amazing and heartwarming work of one of the most comprehensive Animal-Assisted and Activity programs in the nation.”

Let’s face it. I’ve never been personally invited to a supervisors meeting and there I was in the front row with Gus and some of his canine co-workers. Several of us were awarded certificates, but we all know who the real heroes are. ”

ELBEE Excuse me, I wasn’t invited?

GUS I was thrilled to be there and I don’t mean to be a complainer but do you see how Pack Leader is holding me and how Tommy’s person Donna is holding him? It’s happened before. They really need to work on that.

To my surprise, I also received an honor from UCLA Health this week. Last Friday, Erin Rice, the wonderful woman who heads PAC, said that she’d meet me and the Doods at the hospital on Monday morning. Having been busy with family or more likely having a senior moment, I asked, “for what?” She didn’t want to give it all away but simply said that it was for an award.

Once we got there, we were ushered into an auditorium where there was a sizeable crowd of people, including the Chief Patient Experience Officer and the Chief Medical Officer! Three of the therapists that we’ve been lucky enough to work with for years were in the audience and came up too offer their support and to congratulate us. In my usual spirit of honesty, I admit that I was still somewhat clueless.

As the ceremony progressed, Erin and a few other people said some beautiful things about us. They talked about special patient interactions with the dogs and about some of the work we’d done outside of the hospital like the candlelight vigil and the anti-bullying group. It was the most surreal experience. I was moved to tears.

I found out that I was receiving the CICARE award. I admit that I’ve been struggling about explaining what the award is for because I didn’t want to brag too much but I am so honored and humbled by it that I’m going to share. I was informed that it’s for “healing humankind, one patient at a time by improving health, alleviating suffering and delivering acts of kindness.”

If I have done any of that it’s only because I have been fortunate enough to have Charley and then Gus and Elbee at my side. As I’ve acknowledged before, I truly feel privileged to hold their leashes while they work. I may be the facilitator but they are the healers and the miracle workers. I also want to give a special thank you to Charley. Although he has been gone for several months, his spirit still guides me.