PAC – Page 3 – Me and the Doods.com

Tell Me Something Good

When I’m driving to UCLA on Wednesday mornings, I listen to KIIS FM on the radio. I like the music and it’s a welcome diversion from the news.

ELBEE She doesn’t know who half the singers are.

Ryan Seacrest does a segment called “Tell Me Something Good” which encourages people to call in and share something positive. Although I have never called in, I know without a doubt that as soon as I walk into the hospital with the dogs, something good is going to happen.

Actually at UCLA it’s often as soon as I drive up to the busy valet stand in front. Everyone is very welcoming, but there is one young woman who really stands out. She greets me by name and then peeks into the car as she asks “Did you bring Gus or Stanley today?” She’s an absolute delight.

Visiting kids in the neuropsych units, I never cease to be amazed at how the dogs can bring so much joy to young people with major problems.. Wednesday, several of the teenage girls were sitting on the floor with Gus smiling and chatting as they put French braids in his hair.

ELBEE They also told her she looked like Dolly Parton but quickly added that it was a good thing.

On a recent Friday, two more good things stood out when I took Stanley to Tarzana Hospital. We went in to visit a little boy who was around 5 or 6. His face lit up when he saw Stanley in the doorway of his room. As soon as Stanley walked over to the bed, the adorable patient started laughing, a great big belly laugh that only got louder as he petted Stanley and clapped for a few of his tricks.

Then I noticed his special dinosaur blanket on the bed, and coincidentally happened to have a pair of dinosaur sunglasses with me.

ELBEE Of course she did.

When I put them on Stanley, the boy burst into a such a huge laugh, he had everyone else in the room, including his parents, laughing.

When we were leaving the hospital, it was very hot outside and I was worried about walking Stanley on the concrete, even the short distance to the garage. A security guard, realizing my concern, said that he’d be happy to watch him while I got my car. A few minutes later, I pulled up to the shaded area where they were both waiting and thanked him as he helped Stanley into the back seat.

These may all sound like simple moments but I barely had to think about it before I could tell you something good.

Lights, Camera, Nostalgia

On Tuesday, Stanley and Gus had their photo shoot for the UCLA calendar, a tradition that I have really come to cherish. During COVID, following protocol, the pictures were taken outside. This year we were back on the B level of the hospital, the same area where Charley and Elbee posed for photos years ago.

The theme of the this year’s calendar was the Olympics with Gus and Stanley looking fabulous in their tennis wear. In 2021, when it was a takeoff on movie titles, Gus was a bride and Stanley a groom for “Man’s Best Friend’s Wedding.

ELBEE I would have made a beautiful bride.

For the 2023 calendar shoot, not only were we back in the regular place, but as always, Juliane, the long time photographer, was there to work her magic. Charley, Elbee, Gus and Stanley have all been in her lens.

To make it even more nostalgic, the dogs were dressed as doctors and nurses, just as they have been in the past. Putting Gus and Stanley in their medical gear felt very familiar.

This cover photo is a special part of the People Animal Connection history. It includes some PAC dogs who are no longer with us but whose amazing work will never be forgotten. Charley and Elbee are in the back row on the right.

ELBEE I’m a PAC icon.

What made the afternoon even more fun was the appreciative audience. So many people who were at the scattered tables, working on laptops or eating lunch, had their phones out to capture the dogs in costume. There was lots of laughter as they watched the dogs posing in their outfits. One doctor even asked to take a photo with them.

The next morning when I went back to UCLA with Stanley to visit our regular neuropsych units, he had a very special moment with the teens. As we were gathered in the day room, some of the kids suggested bringing in one particular boy who had severe issues but loved dogs.

A few minutes later, his one-on-one aid brought him in to join us. He had very awkward movement and I believe was severely autistic. He was also non-verbal. Two things immediately stuck me as he stood by the doorway. One was the joy on his face as soon as he saw Stanley. The other was the kindness of the kids in the group. They were so encouraging when he tried to pet Stanley and in almost a whisper said a few words like “soft” and “nice dog.”

Watching his interactions with Stanley really made me think. Dressing the dogs like doctors and nurses for the calendar is lighthearted fun. Yet they all possess such healing spirits.

Celebrate Love & Kindness

On Wednesday, driving to UCLA, I was still reeling from the unspeakable tragedy in Texas. I was also concerned about the kids in neuropsych whom Gus was going to be visiting. Fortunately, when we arrived, I found out that they had been temporarily sheltered from the news.

It turned out to be a beautiful morning with Gus. He was at the top of his game, literally smiling and showing off his tiny teeth as he rolled over for belly rubs. The kids under twelve were as happy as Gus. It was as if they were feeding off of each others’ energy.

The teens were equally engaged, fun and enthusiastic. They shared stories about their dogs and asked how to teach them tricks. But looking into their eyes as we chatted on the outside deck, I worried. Many of them are emotionally fragile so I couldn’t imagine how they would process the news, even with the help of the therapists.

Two of my grandchildren are teenagers so the next day I asked my daughter how they were handling it. She said that, of course, they were sad and upset but they weren’t shocked. Their school has “active shooter” drills. When I was growing up in Syracuse, all we had was the occasional fire drill.

Fortuitously, after leaving our units we headed outside to help celebrate Unity and Kindness Day. It was a UCLA Health event being held in conjunction with Nurses’ Month and Mental Health Awareness Month. A few of the People Animal Connection dogs and a miniature horse were perfect additions to the festivities.

Health care workers were selecting random acts of kindness or writing customized messages on pieces of paper to hang on a golden ring. It was to showcase their good intentions in the coming days. A chaplain quieted the crowd to speak movingly about what is going on in the world. Then he asked for a moment of silence.

As I sat down at my computer today, I wanted to write something positive and respectful, almost like another moment of silence. I hoped that a feel good post would bring some comfort without trivializing the senseless loss of life. We need to reach out to each other with love and kindness, in the hope that we will find unity.

More Special Moments

This week was all dog all the time. They had more activities than my daughters did when they were little. Looking back it seems like a blur of fur and wagging tails, but then, as always, there were moments that stood out.

Stanley visited the neuropsych units at UCLA. On our way in to see the teens, I heard one of the therapists say, almost to herself, “They’re all so depressed. I hope the dog can do something.” Glancing into the day room, I saw what she meant.

Miraculously, as we walked in, I could feel the mood shift. Most of the kids dropped down on the floor with us. Even the few who stayed at the tables were watching. At first they just quietly petted Stanley but as he lightly put his paws on them and went in for belly rubs, they started warming up.

When he did a few tricks, they really got involved. And no one could resist the accessories. They laughed at the purple sunglasses and the tiaras. It relaxed them enough that they began chatting, telling me about their dogs, sharing stories.

I confess, I also used a photo that I knew would get their attention, the one of me lifting Stanley. Two of the boys immediately said, “You’re bench pressing him!”

ELBEE She can’t help herself. It was cheesy but it worked.

The next day I brought Gus to UCLA for a nurse appreciation meeting but his moment was in the lobby. A patient’s family was sitting on a bench outside of Maddie’s Room. As soon as they saw Gus, two of the men grinned and waved us over.

GUS I was looking particularly fluffy and fabulous.

Knowing how difficult it can be for family and friends who are waiting for word about loved ones, I had Gus do a few tricks to distract them.

When he did his special dance, one of the men stood up, began singing and dancing with him. It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. They lit up the lobby.

This photo was another moment. I took it at the “spa” right after they’d been bathed. Jen, the wonderful groomer who pampers the Doods, wrapped them up in a heart. What could be more perfect!

Gratitude Remembered

At UCLA, Gus and Stanley spend the majority of time working with groups of all ages in the neuropsych units. Since returning to Tarzana Hospital a few months ago, our visits have been focused on the staff, many of whom are still dealing with the emotional toll of COVID.

Last week, Gus went back to doing individual room visits at Tarzana. I had almost forgotten what it was like to knock on a door and watch a patient’s face light up at seeing him standing there.

ELBEE One time when she knocked and asked if the patient would like a visit, the patient looked at her and said, “Not really.” The she saw me, smiled and said, “Please, come in.”

As soon as I put Gus on a patient’s bed, there was an instant personal connection. We had easy conversation while they cuddled with him.

A woman who worked from home told me that friends and family were always dropping off their dogs for her to watch so she usually had several at once. Gus was just what she needed. A woman who did animal rescue was eager to share stories. An elderly patient confided that she liked dogs more than people.

ELBEE That is a wise woman.

We went in to see a little boy around three years old. For a moment he was a bit shy but as soon as Gus waved and did his little dance he started giggling. He was delighted when his parents said it was okay to put Gus on the bed. They seemed so relieved at the distraction while they happily showed me videos of their Labradoodles.

Because it had been awhile, I was overwhelmed with gratitude at watching Gus do his up close magic. He helped patients forget their pain and their anxiety. He made the hospital rooms disappear. A woman in the cardiac unit summed it up when she said “He makes my heart feel better.”

Coincidentally, it was Patient Experience Week, a time to celebrate how the health care staff impacts patient experience. Gus, Stanley and all of their fellow therapy dogs may not technically be staff, but they are definitely health care workers at their finest.

Adventures With Henry

This morning, I headed up a steep trail with Henry, enjoying the challenge and the beauty of the mountains, especially with the wildflowers still in their full glory. Near the top, I met two women sitting on the trail. I asked if everything was okay and one answered that she was just waiting. I assumed she meant resting. Turns out I was wrong.

A few minutes later a red helicopter started circling. I assumed it was doing routine fire patrol. I was wrong again.

It began flying lower and lower in tight circles. Eventually the door opened and someone rappelled out the side. Other rescue workers suddenly materialized out of nowhere.

I found out from one of the women whom I’d met coming up that the other woman had broken her leg and called for help. She added that the injured woman was 58 so her bones were pretty brittle. I didn’t share my age!

Henry and I were standing on an overlook with a few other people while all of the chaos was going on. We were afraid to move and get in the way. After quite some time, it seemed that everything was under control. I believe they brought an ambulance up dirt Mulholland, a drivable area, to transport the woman down.

But let me tell you, the wind from a hovering helicopter is like a tornado. We were getting pelted by pebbles and my sunglasses blew off my face and into the canyon below.

ELBEE Good thing she buys cheap ones because she always loses them.

On the bright side it was great training for Henry. I couldn’t have thought of a better way to desensitize him to loud noises.

Our other adventure this week was much lower key. We were walking on dirt Mulholland when a woman called out, “Aren’t you part of the PAC program?” Surprised, I told her that I was.

ELBEE She never would have recognized her if she’d been alone.

It turned out she was an ICU nurse at UCLA who loved the People Animal Connection. She knew Stanley and Gus plus thought she had met Charley years ago. She asked me about Henry who was being so sweet with her.

As soon as I told her that he was an eleven month old puppy in training, she couldn’t wait to call her friend, a PICU nurse at the hospital. While they were talking she decided to FaceTime so that her friend could see him too.

After she finished the call and was getting ready to leave, she took a moment to tell me how much it meant to the staff to have the dogs back in the hospital. She said they were truly helping everyone cope with the ongoing stress of COVID.

It was such a random but heartwarming encounter. The dogs continue to bring so much unexpected light into my life.

It Was a Good Week

That may seem like an overly optimistic title in these continuously trying times, but Gus and Stanley made it happen. They each had a chance to go into the hospital which was special for me and so many others.

Usually, when I write about the dogs, I’m inspired by an event like the palliative care seminar or a moment with a patient. This week it was a throwback photo that popped up on my Facebook page.

Taken in April 2020, shortly after COVID forced all of the dog visits to be cancelled, it made me appreciate the in-person visits even more.

ELBEE A lot of other photos popped up too… fabulous dogs like moi, crazy flexing, beautiful scenery. Where are her grandchildren?

On Wednesday, Stanley went to UCLA. There is always such an air of excitement whenever one of the PAC dogs walks into the lobby.

As we went from one neuropsych unit to another, everyone, staff included, wanted to give him a hug. Several of the kids tried to convince me to leave him with them, promising to take good care of him.

Friday, I took Gus to Tarzana Hospital. From the moment we walked into the lobby, he was on. His tail was wagging and he seemed to have a constant smile on his face. He was so excited that he was doing his little “dance” on his own and waving at people.

What added a special note to all of our visits was Easter, well actually, Easter accessories. There is nothing like a dog in rabbit ears and sparkly glasses to cheer people up. In our UCLA units, even the adult patients joined the party. They tried on the extra ears I had in my bag. We all played “who wore it best?” It’s no surprise that Stanley won hands down every time.

At Tarzana, so many of the nurses, and a few doctors too, wanted to take photos of Gus. Whenever I asked if anyone would like accessories, the answer was a resounding “yes.” When it came to selfies, they were very excited that I had extra props for them.

**Did you really think I could resist?**

I realize that some of my stories may be repetitive, but I always feel the desire to share the privilege I have of watching therapy dogs at work. I still have the same sense of wonder (with slightly fewer nerves) that I did over fifteen years ago when I began this journey with Charley.

Wishing everyone a happy Easter and a happy Passover from me and the Doods.

Caring for the Caregivers

Recently, Gus and a few of his co-workers from the People Animal Connection brought so much fun to a palliative care seminar.

ELBEE I believe that’s an oxymoron.

UCLA was having its annual symposium. Since palliative care is a difficult specialty, aimed at optimizing the quality of life for people with serious, complex illnesses, they reached out to have the dogs there. It couldn’t have gone better.

I knew that Georgia and Bubbles, two big Labs, were going, so decided that little fluff ball Gus would be perfect to add to the mix.

GUS I won because of my hair?

STANLEY I won’t pretend that I wasn’t hurt.

The attendees were absolutely delighted. When they walked out of the auditorium and saw the dogs, serious faces suddenly lit up. Two women admitted that they’d been in a lecture when they’d heard a bark and came running out for a break.

Whether the dogs were rolling over for belly rubs, doing a few simple tricks or just leaning in to be petted, they brightened the mood. People laughed when we put Bubbles and Gus in accessories, and immediately began taking selfies with them.

There was so much laughter and joy in the large basement of the hospital, it was easy to forget why we were all there. What brought it into focus was talking to a few people who had tables set up representing hospice companies. I had a quiet conversation with a woman who was asking how she could get the dogs involved with patients in the final months of life.

I was also reminded of a palliative care physician who was one of the most caring people that I have ever known. Manny Kaddour worked at Tarzana Hospital. Despite the difficult nature of his practice, he had such enthusiasm for life. He greeted everyone with a smile.

Manny, Charley, my first therapy dog, and Gus had a mutual admiration society. No matter what he was dealing with, he would always take a moment to hug them and tell them how much he loved them. As someone who cared for critically ill patients, often near the end of life, he truly understood and respected the unconditional love and support that the dogs offered.

Sadly, Manny passed away in March of 2018 at the age of forty-nine. I will never forgot him nor the lessons he taught me about kindness and compassion.

The Power of the Dogs

ELBEE Is someone stealing movie titles again?

Wednesday was Gus’s regular morning at UCLA, although, when it comes to therapy dogs, there is no such thing as a “regular” morning, especially since COVID. With the dogs in and out of the hospital so many times, there is almost a collective sigh of relief when they walk in.

With tail wagging, Gus greeted everyone from the crew at valet parking, to families in the lobby to staff. We finally made it up to Resnick on the fourth floor.

As we went from one neuropsych unit to another, starting with the kids under twelve and ending with the adults, there was such a pervasive sense of joy and again a sense of relief.

After a long morning, we headed down to the take-out Subway in the basement of the hospital. It’s become an informal tradition to meet Jen, the manager of PAC, and Donna, human to Gus’s buddies Tommy and Finley, after the dogs make their rounds.

Without saying a word, we all understood how fulfilling, and at times how difficult, the morning had been. As our little heroes rested around us, we began sharing some of the special moments.

I mentioned a young man who was hugging Gus as he told the group how badly he wanted a dog. Awhile later, as we were leaving the floor, we saw him in the hall, carrying his bags, ready to go home.

He rushed over to tell me how much the visit from Gus had meant to him. He said he was glad that he hadn’t been discharged earlier because he would have missed it. He added that Gus had changed his whole mood. He was so earnest and sincere, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

A severely autistic, non-verbal boy focused long enough to put his hand on Gus’s back. It didn’t seem like a lot to me but the therapist said it was “major.”

Tommy and Finley had been in the PICU cheering up very sick children. Donna mentioned three in particular that had been critically ill. One was a seventeen year old boy who smiled and chatted with her while he cuddled the dogs. Only later did she find out how gravely ill he was and that he rarely smiled.

As conversation flowed, I was suddenly overwhelmed. I thought about Gus offering comfort in one area of the hospital while Tommy and Finley were comforting children on another floor. Donna and I were holding their leashes and making sure they were doing okay but they were truly showing us the quiet power of therapy dogs everywhere.

Happy Birthday Gus!

For me, the month of March is an emotional milkshake.

ELBEE Is that a thing?

It was in March of my senior year in high school that my dad passed. My brother Stan’s birthday was March third. Although he’s been gone over twenty-five years, his laughter still resonates in my life

Charley, the gentle giant, and my first therapy dog, died suddenly in March of 2017, the morning after working a student event at the Wooden Center. He lives on in countless memories.

For instance, last week, when I was walking Gus and Stanley in the neighborhood, a man stopped his car to share a story. Years ago he’d been at a UCLA football game at the Rose Bowl when Charley and I walked onto the field during half time. He’d been so surprised to see us that he’d never forgotten it.

ELBEE That was the night they directed her to stand on the ten yard line. When she asked where it was the man said “next to the nine yard line.” And hello! My birthday was March eighth and no one who ever met me has forgotten me.

On a purely positive March note, Gus turned eight on the twenty fifth. What better way to celebrate the occasion than doing what he does best…cheering people up. Along with Jen, the manager of PAC, Gus, Stanley and I paid a visit to the internal medicine residents at UCLA Olive View Medical Center.

We met on a shaded, grassy area outside of the hospital. From the moment the first few doctors approached, everyone was positive and welcoming. Residencies can be extremely stressful but you’d never have known it from watching everyone interact with the dogs.

When I announced that it was Gus’s birthday, the atmosphere became even more festive. It was a regular party. With a little encouragement, everyone sang Happy Birthday and applauded as Gus danced. They laughed when I brought out the sunglasses and tiaras.

ELBEE She’s never met an accessory she didn’t like.

Despite all of the fun, there was a serious undertone. I could see how much the visit meant. It reinforced what our therapy dogs can accomplish simply by being present and loving. Since COVID, they have had an even more important role in comforting, not only patients and their families. but hospital staff as well.

A doctor rubbing Stanley’s belly told me how much she needed the time out from the demands of her training. Several simply hugged Gus and Stanley and smiled. My favorite moment was when a doctor, with a big grin on his face said, “This is the greatest day of my whole residency.”