Riley has been a regular pet therapy dog to South Belknap at McLean Hospital for almost three years. South Belknap is a two story building which houses the Geriatric Neuropsychitry Unit. The Geriatric Neuropsychiatry Unit (GNU) is a short-term, inpatient unit for the evaluation and treatment of patients with Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia. The McLean Geriatric Psychiatry Program is also the oldest and largest service in New England dedicated exclusively to meeting the mental health needs of the elderly. Its multidisciplinary treatment teams provide comprehensive diagnosis, treatment and follow-up on a wide range of psychiatric disorders.
Given my line of work, it is refreshing and a challenge to work with a different population. I am most honored to accompany Riley to his "work" as his handler. In addition, Riley has a little sidekick named Mandy. Mandy is a two year old Maltese. She is, of couse, pure white, and only about 8 or 9 pounds. Running next to Riley's 85 pound black frame she tries hard to keep up. They make quite a statement when we enter the halls of South Belknap. Mandy greets patients and staff with a fury of flying fur, tail, and energy. She gets all the "Aw"s and "Oh"s. Riley quietly follows her path, always keeping his watchful eyes on her but is content to hang back. When we finally reach the large activity room, I give Riley control of the room and he makes his way around to meet the patients who are usually seated around the perimeter of the room. Everytime we visit, the patients vary in their abilities to maintain a conversation appropriately, respond to verbal direction, or recognize that there are dogs in the room.We never really know what kind of visit we are going to have until we arrive. Sometimes visits are very talkative and patients want to talk about different breeds, training, or how much they shed. Other times, visits are very quiet and all patients want to do is a spend a little time interacting with an animal that is non-judgemental and soft to pet!
On a recent trip, we found ourselves with a mix of patients on one floor. Mandy immediately found the lap of a nice gentleman who was having his blood pressure checked by a doctor in the activity room. He was very excited to see her and so I let her do what she loves best, sit in a lap and get lots of attention. We chatted a little bit about how sweet the dogs are and what kinds of things they really like. Riley then follows me to the other side of the room to chat with a few women. The session continues with me answering a few questions about what kind of breeds Mandy and Riley are, what their funky eating habits are, and what good friends they are. Mandy eventually makes her way around the room, temporarily leasing the lap space of each patient as she goes. The first gentleman we met is now calling Riley and Riley responds by walking over to him and presenting himself for scratchies. I tell the man, "He likes you!" The two of them are now enjoying a great symbiotic moment. A few minutes go by and I look up to find that the gentleman has crossed the room and is coming towards me, lugging a small oxygen tank behind him. He marches right up to me, staring at me intently, and then leans in toward my face (as I'm trying not to lean away). he belts out, "GOD BLESS YOU!"
My first response is to be polite, "Well, thank you!" I have experienced a great many things yelled at me before and I have learned to just roll with it.
"Your dogs are just great. You know, this is my first day here and these dogs just made my day. Thank you for bringing them. Thank you for doing what you do. God bless you."
Though I am frequently thanked by the staff there and oftentimes even the visiting family members comment on how great it is that I find time to visit the patients, this complement was so heartfelt. I certainly do see it in the patients' eyes and on their faces when they forget for just 5 minutes that they are in a hospital, being evaluated, taking medication, not allowed to return to their homes. Or, for just a few minutes, their minds are not confused or lost. In that 5 minutes, they are content to pat a dog, maybe even reminisce about a dog they once owned or perhaps have at home, and talk about something that does not relate to their illness. To be able to provide that for someone, even just one person in that building on any given day, makes me feel quite blessed.
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