Providence Tarzana Hospital – Page 2

I Hope Something Good Happens to You Today

Walking with the dogs, I saw this sticker on a car window.

ELBEE She got the photo off of the internet so that the people wouldn’t see her skulking around their driveway taking pictures.

It really inspired me. Right now, more than ever, we need to send each other positive messages.

Coincidentally, on the neighborhood page, which at times can be not so neighborly, someone had posted a photo of sidewalk chalk art that read, “thanks for the music.” It was to show appreciation for a neighbor who had to resort to front yard rehearsals during COVID.

The sticker made me think about how fortunate I am that good things happen to me every day when I’m with the dogs. Instead of guilt by association, I get “good” by association. With Gus and Stanley back to work, I feel the same overwhelming gratitude that I have each and every time we’ve returned over the past two years.

At the adult day health center, the man who only smiles when the dogs are there, met me and Gus at the door with the sweetest grin on his face. It’s almost like our little secret. He stayed with us as we made our way through the room and never stopped smiling.

Stanley was visiting the teen neuropsych unit at UCLA when a girl who was sitting on the floor next to me very quietly shared that he reminded her of Charley, my very first therapy dog. She had been a patient several years earlier and said that she’d never forgotten him.

**Stanley & Gus in their official** **Tarzana Hospital bandanas**

At Tarzana Hospital, a nurse told she didn’t know how she’d have made it through the morning without some dog love. A woman outside a patient’s door just wanted to hug Gus. Her aunt was very ill and also had severe dementia so visiting her was extremely stressful. Gus gave her the strength to go back into the room.

Now I’m hopefully going to make something good happen to you by giving you a laugh.

ELBEE That terrible segue made me laugh.

Last week I wrote about the dogs’ quirks, including that Henry sprints across the yard after he poops.

HENRY Why is she bringing that up again?

Hearing the story, a friend told me an even better one. She had a Dachshund with a very strange habit. Every time it pooped, it would run three circles around it!

And how about this photo of Gus, who turns eight this week, playing peekaboo under Henry who is ten months today!

Sometimes It’s the Little Moments

With the world still such a mess, I thought that sharing a few positive, personal moments might be a good way to go.

Let me begin with one that could have gone terribly wrong. I was starting up a trail with Henry when a woman on an adjacent trail yelled “Hey, clean up after your dog!” Since I’m a fanatic about cleaning up after the dogs, I was a little confused and, to be honest, offended.

ELBEE Trust me. She’s like the poop police. I was almost afraid to go.

I assured her that Henry hadn’t gone and told her that one of my pet peeves was people who didn’t clean up after their dogs. Then I showed her the four bags I had with me just in case. To my surprise, she began apologizing profusely.

ELBEE Trail rage incident averted.

When I walk on busy streets with Gus and Stanley, we take up most of the sidewalk. If someone is approaching, I will often step aside and wait for them to pass. The other morning, an older man saw us coming and moved over to give us room. When I said “thank you,” he smiled, nodded and did the prayer sign. It was just so simple and sweet.

Later, we were in a crosswalk on busy Ventura Boulevard when a man and his preteen son passed us going the other way. Suddenly, the boy waved enthusiastially and called out. “Thank you so much. I taught my dog the tricks the way you told me.”

I realized we’d met them a few weeks earlier. After interacting with Gus and Stanley, they told me that they had a pretty rambunctious puppy at home. The boy, who was working hard to train it, asked me for a few tips on getting his dog to do some tricks. How nice to hear that it had worked out.

Yesterday, I was on the phone talking to someone about getting repairs done on the house. We had spoken several times before so she knew about the dogs and their schedules but we’d never really discussed them.

As we were about to say goodbye, she said “I have to tell you something.” She admitted that she’d never thought much about what therapy dogs could do until recently. She was in the hospital and they’d brought one to her room. In her words, “I was delighted and forgot my pain.”

That brings me to one more very positive note. At UCLA and Tarzana Hospital, we are all in the process of getting ready to bring the dogs back in to visit again. In these trying times, who doesn’t need a little dog comfort and love.

Happy New Year…I Hope

In my Thanksgiving post, I shared how grateful I was that Gus and Stanley had been allowed to resume in person hospital visits. I was overwhelmed with joy at all they were doing in the month of December.

Still, there was a part of me that worried every time I heard how quickly the variants of COVID-19 were spreading. Then last week it happened. The other shoe dropped.

ELBEE Is that the appropriate expression?

I received an email from UCLA that the dogs wouldn’t be allowed into the hospital until at least the middle of January when everything would be reassessed. I wasn’t surprised at all, it was inevitable, but I was truly sad. In a way, it was a fitting end to a crazy year.

To continue on the crazy theme, we had more rain than I can remember in what seems like forever. It was welcome considering the drought we’ve been having, but created a few problems as it went on for hours. I received a text from my next door neighbor that a large tree had fallen and was blocking our street. If they hadn’t been out to dinner it would have landed on their car.

And do you know what it’s like to have three dogs who want to stay outside in a steady rain?

ELBEE Excuse me. Then why is she sitting there with them?

When Doodles get wet, they get soaked. It takes a lot of towels to dry them! We had already decided on a quiet New Year’s Eve at home. I just hadn’t planned on doing laundry.

ELBEE Interesting. She did laundry last New Year’s Eve too. Someone needs to get a life.

My husband Doug gets dual credit for this New Year’s picture. He’s already the in-house photographer. Now he’s the stylist. When I suggested the Dollar Store for props, he did so well that I may hire him again next year.

It can be a real challenge getting all three involved but it also brings some much needed laughter. In the chaos of tiaras and boas, they take us away from everything happening in the world. They add so much joy and comfort to our lives.

My hope for 2022 is that they will be back at work, doing what they do best.

Happy New Year!

Christmas Presence

This week, thanks to Gus, Stanley and two of their friends, I received more Christmas presents than anyone could ever hope for. It began on Friday when I took Stanley to Tarzana Hospital.

After warm greetings in the lobby, I was walking down the hall when I was drawn to an amazing picture on the wall. It was of a quilt with elastic at the sides to simulate a mask. The squares, designed by Providence caregivers, were touching tributes to the strength of the human spirit.

Moved by the messages and so happy to be there with Stanley, I took him upstairs to cheer up the staff. He was just what they needed, better than eggnog or a Hallmark movie, my guilty pleasure.

These pictures say it all. He got two spontaneous thumbs up. Then he offered some holiday love.

On Christmas day, my friend Donna and I carried on a tradition that we started a few years ago. We brought Gus plus her two Bichon, Tommy and Finley, to cheer up the young patients at UCLA Mattel Children’s Hospital. It was so special to be there because last year COVID-19 kept us away.

Tommy and Finley are Gus’s best buddies in the People Animal Connection. They’ve developed a beautiful rhythm in working together. Tommy and Finley are sweet and adorable. Gus kind of adds his own special style to the mix.

As we went from room to room, the dogs brought such comfort, even to the critically ill children. In some instances, it seemed to benefit the parents even more. The holiday is such a difficult time to have a child in the hospital. The visits gave them a moment to breathe.

While Tommy and Finley were cuddling with a young boy, I had Gus do his little dance and then put him in a Christmas hat. The boy smiled and even laughed softly. Donna later shared that when they had visited him a few days before there had barely been any reaction. The three dogs together had won him over, to the delight of his parents.

No matter how long you’ve had the privilege of working with therapy dogs, there is always a sense of wonder at seeing what they can do, especially at this time of year. Their simple presence is a priceless gift.

This was reinforced by all of the staff who came into the rooms with us. You could sense the smiles behind their masks. As we were leaving the PICU, one of the nurses commented, “This was truly a Christmas miracle.”

I Can Still Bench Press the Dogs & Other Things I’m Grateful For

In this uncertain world where watching the news can give you stomach pains, I thought it would be a good idea to focus on the positive.

ELBEE That is way too much information.

First, thank you to my husband Doug, my daughters, sons-in-law and grandchildren. My life would have so many empty spaces without you. A shout out to Jennifer for doing Thanksgiving. I am grateful that we could be together and that all I had to bring were my fabulous stuffing and sweet potatoes.

ELBEE Seriously?

Thank you to Doug for his steady support during the pandemic and for coming to terms with the fact that Henry is getting larger by the day

I truly appreciate the friends in my life. COVID-19 made it difficult for us to see each other but I always knew you were there. When you shared that my writing was bringing you joy, you brought me joy.

I am also grateful for the memories of family and friends who are gone but whose loving presence guides me. I will always hear the laughter of my brother Stan and my dear friend Eileen.

The mountains are still my spiritual space, my sanctuary. Standing on an overlook with the ocean in the distance gives me peace. Thank you to my mountain friends. We may not know each others’ names but I treasure our camaraderie.

I want to acknowledge the older couple who have made it their mission to clean up trash on the trails. I frequently see them coming down with bags full which is inspiring but sad at the same time.

Thank you to the bike riders who have finally gotten bells and actually say “thank you” when you move over to let them pass instead of trying to run you down.

ELBEE She can’t get past her issues with the bikers and that last statement is a bit sarcastic for a gratitude list.

I am deeply grateful that I have been able resume in-person visits with Gus and Stanley. A year and a half of Zoom calls was better than nothing but seeing them interact with patients, family and staff is heartwarming. I have been so touched by the incredible welcome back that we have received at UCLA and at Tarzana Hospital.

I feel so fortunate to be able to continue on this therapy dog journey that began fifteen years ago with Charley and then Elbee. The Doods have taught me about kindness, healing and unconditional love. They have filled me with gratitude.

ELBEE Finally it’s about us.

And I can still bench press them!

HENRY I didn’t sign up for this.

ELBEE I feel your pain.

Lead with Kindness

The Doods are truly back in action. After the stress and uncertainly of the past year and a half, it’s so gratifying to see them doing what they do best.

On Wednesday, Stanley and I visited our regular neuropsych units at UCLA. The teens, who can be tough to reach, were amazing. One of the boys, who’s very familiar with the props and pictures I’ve been using since Zoom, offered to help. He asked the other kids to name the dogs’ favorite game and even held up this photo.

When we were leaving the floor, two of the therapists, whom I’ve known for years, really wanted me to understand how deeply moved they were to have the dogs back. With tears in their eyes above their masks, they shared that some of the positive behavior that I see so routinely, only happens when the dogs are there.

For the first time in over a year and a half, I took Gus into Tarzana Hospital. Although we did see a patient or two, we were there for the staff. From the security guards to the administration to the medical personnel, we were surrounded by happiness.

As we moved from one nurses’ station to another, with Gus cuddling and performing, I heard the phrase that has become so familiar. “Thank goodness you’re back.”

ELBEE We’ll let her think they were talking about her.

On Saturday, Stanley and his PAC buddy Herman worked a job fair at UCLA, something that would have been impossible only a few months ago. It reminded me of how much joy they can bring to any event.

People came by to chat, to take photos (several selfies), to share their own dog stories. The job market is a serious issue, but the event was festive and Stanley and Herman made it even more fun.

ELBEE I saw Stanley handing out his resumé.

Driving past an elementary school in my neighborhood this morning, I noticed this marquis:

**Character Trait of the month: KINDNESS**

It made me think how the dogs bring out the best in people by leading from a place of kindness. Now, in these still difficult times, we truly need to do the same.

A simple encounter at the market brought that home even more. I was pushing my cart out the door when a man who was entering moved over to give me room to pass. I said “thank you.” He looked at me, smiled and said “thank you!”

Doug and Stanley

I was going to take this week off in honor of my big birthday, but then Doug, my husband, and Stanley had a moment that I really wanted to share.

ELBEE Her first birthday card was from a hearing aid company saying that she might want to stop in if that tells you anything.

Starting as far back as Charley, Doug has been supportive of my work with the dogs, but it wasn’t until recently that he became a true believer. Over the years, as a surgeon at Providence Tarzana, he saw faces light up when the dogs were in the hospital and he heard special stories about their visits.

Back when we were still taking polaroids, one of his elderly patients clutched a picture of Charley to her chest as she was wheeled into the operating room. When she awoke in recovery, the photo was the first thing she asked for.

When I’d bring one of them to his office, the whole atmosphere would change. Patients in the waiting room would forget they were waiting.

In the past few years the dogs have become very popular in the clinic where my husband is working. He had a birthday recently, and although he’s not big on celebrations, the staff insisted on a little party, of course with Gus and Stanley in attendance. They made everyone’s day.

GUS & STANLEY We were the center of attention. It was fabulous.

Despite having seen the dogs in action for so long, it was a quieter moment that turned my husband into a true believer. We were watching America’s Got Talent when it happened.

ELBEE Yes, that is their guilty pleasure. She still thinks she’s going to be discovered. Oy!

With three adorable children waiting in the wings, a tall, handsome 51 year old man was sharing his story. He revealed that his wife had been killed in the helicopter crash that had taken Kobe Bryant and eight other people. When he began to sing an emotional version of “Take a Look at Me Now,” it brought everyone, including Doug, to tears.

Stanley, who was relaxing on the outside deck, suddenly came running into the bedroom. With the hot summer weather, he loves to cool off out there and generally has to be convinced to come inside. That evening, somehow sensing what was going on, he went right to my husband and began leaning on him. Like Charley before him, Stanley was offering the “comfort lean.”

The look of amazement on Doug’s face said it all. As he stood there with Stanley pressed against his legs, he felt his intuition and his pure desire to help. In an unexpected setting, he had experienced the magic of dog therapy.

Snakes, Bikes and Unrelated Coincidences

On one of the first warm days this spring I was hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains with Shelli and Ann Marie, two of my slightly younger friends.

ELBEE She could be their mother.

All of a sudden, when we were almost at the top of a steep, single-track trail, we heard a very loud, unmistakable rattle in the brush. I am not a fan of rattle snakes but I’ve encountered so many over the years that I don’t freak out. I’ve even forgiven the one that bit me on the ankle.

ELBEE Unlike the first time when she screamed and ran a half mile in the other direction.

My friends, on the other hand, basically freaked out. To give you an idea, at the end of the hike Shelli’s Fitbit showed that her heart rate was the highest for the three minutes post rattle.

They were ready to turn around and run back down. As senior hiker and self-appointed hike leader, I told them that wasn’t an option. It was too far, too rocky and the snake had relatives.

Promising that we’d stay on wide trails, I convinced them to follow me up to dirt Mulholland which is so open that the snakes can’t really hide. That’s when the bikers started flying by without bells. Unlike the snakes, who are very polite, they don’t give you a warning. (You know who you are.)

ELBEE She has such bike issues.

Shelli and Ann Marie, still in fear of seeing another rattling reptile, had no problems with the speeding lunatics and thought I was overreacting. That changed after our encounter with a visibly distraught woman coming up a narrow side trail.

When we stopped to see if she needed help, she said that a bell-less bike rider had flown past her, scaring her and almost causing her to fall. As we chatted and she calmed down, my friends were very sympathetic and I seemed like much less of a curmudgeon.

ELBEE Maybe.

Fortunately, thanks to the dogs, who weren’t even there, the hike ended on a very positive note. As were heading down to our cars, a young woman walking by stared at me for a moment and then asked, “Do you have two big fluffy white dogs?” My friends started laughing.

It turned out that years ago, when she’d had been seriously ill, I’d brought Charley and Elbee to see her at Tarzana Hospital. She’d never forgotten them. Of course, I had to tell her about Gus and Stanley and just happened to have their trading cards with me.

In another coincidence, when she saw UCLA Health on the cards she said she that she was going to be starting a job there. She’d recently completed her PhD in psychology and was going to be working in neuropsych at the hospital…our regular units!

ELBEE What are the chances?

And speaking of coincidences, a few days later, hiking with Stanley, I saw this poor snake that had been run over by a bike!

ELBEE Now that’s ironic, sad, but ironic.

Cautiously Optimistic

I’m almost embarrassed by the title of this post because it’s become such a cliché right now.

ELBEE Apparently not embarrassed enough not to use it.

We’ve all gone through so much together, from pandemic brain to pandemic fatigue to being so over it. Sharing with friends and family has been a saving grace. We have found ways to connect with each other and to comfort. Now we are looking for the way back.

On Wednesday the Doods did a Zoom call with a little girl at UCLA Medical Center. Ironically, the date marked a year since Gus or Stanley has done any in person visits.

ELBEE I would have been devastated to have had my illustrious therapy dog career put on hold.

On March 11, 2020 Gus did his recertification testing and soaked up all of the attention walking through the hospital. It was also the day that the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 an international pandemic.

Zoom calls, which were a technological nightmare for some people, have become routine and sometimes even fun.

ELBEE She used to ask her grandkids for help.

The patient we visited on the eleventh seemed a bit shy but having her mom there gave her the ease to open up.

They were both delighted with Gus and Stanley’s antics. They laughed at their dancing, applauded the tricks. told me about their dogs. We even sang an early Happy Birthday to Gus.

The only thing missing was the physical contact with the dogs. There was no hugging or petting. There were no belly rubs.

An impromptu visit that the dogs did on one of our walks really put it in perspective. I was fortunate enough to be vaccinated, so although I’ve been cautious, I have let more people approach. I also carry Purell.

ELBEE By the way, “fortunate” means “old.”

A man out with his two young sons asked if they could pet the dogs. When I gave the okay, the boys were so excited. Gus and Stanley were almost giddy and immediately began showing off. They have been very confused by social distancing.

After the dogs calmed down enough to pose for a photo, I handed the boys their UCLA trading cards. Before we went our separate ways, the dad looked me in the eye and said “you just made their day.” I realized how much I’ve missed that simple phrase that therapy dogs and their handlers so often hear in the hospital.

It made me think that Zoom visits are like television shows with a remote audience while in-person hospital visits are like live theater. There is a priceless interaction when a dog walks into a patient’s room. I am cautiously optimistic that we will find our way back.

Sequins & Schmatas

As the pandemic has gone on and on, a lot of us have gotten very comfortable in sweats, schmata’s and minimal makeup.

CHARLEY It’s concerning.

On the other hand, our dogs look fabulous. We’ve been spending so much time together, there’s lots of brushing and pampering going on.

My cousin Janet, the one who inherited the sewing and crafting gene from my grandmother, made this personalized sweater for her “granddog” Leon. If I could knit I would have done the same thing.

ELBEE Knit? I saw her try to sew on a button. It was painful.

I’ve never hesitated to dress the Doods up for holidays or special events at the hospital. Now every Zoom call is an excuse. When we do virtual visits, it’s all about Gus and Stanley in their ties and tiaras. The patients are so taken with the sequins and feathers, I don’t think they even notice me in my sweats.

ELBEE Excuse me, those are pajamas.

It reminds me of the time I knocked on a patient’s door at Providence Tarzana Hospital and asked her if she’d like a visit. A little confused, she looked at me and answered “not really,” Then, seeing Gus at my feet, she smiled and said “please come in.”

I confess, Gus and Stanley’s wardrobe comes from the Dollar Store or from my closet. My kids were never that easy to dress. I remember a shopping trip when one of the daughters asked why there was a little “x” sticker on a shirt. When I explained that it meant there was a tiny imperfection, her response was, “you’re buying me rejects?” Neither Gus nor Stanley has ever complained about rejects.

Actually, I was feeling so good about the outfits I was putting together, I thought dog stylist might be in my future. Then the people on our UCLA PAC Zoom calls began sharing about all of the shopping they’d been doing. They’d been buying fancy doggie apparel on specialized web sights. Who knew they had onesies and bodysuits for dogs! I was afraid that I’d have to step up my game.

GUS If she buys me a onesie I’m outta here.

STANLEY I might look cute in that black bodysuit.

Gus and Stanley have very different attitudes when they pose for photos. No matter how I dress him, Stanley sits patiently and waits for his close up. Gus, on the other hand, often looks as if he’s having an existential crisis.

On a serious note, some friends are going through very difficult times. This lighter post was written for them in the spirit of love.