Mount Pleasant Pets

“I thought the driver saw me,” was what I kept telling the policeman. It was half past seven on a cool October morning. There was no trace of humidity in the air, so I pitched my car keys onto the kitchen counter and carried my bicycle down the porch steps. My commute is exactly 1.2 miles from our front door to the revolving doors of the Medical University of South Carolina. Cruising to work on my teal-colored bicycle to my new job — the best job a retired HR professional could ever dream of having — seemed like a good idea on a beautiful fall day.

Pedaling along Ashley Avenue, thoughts of the day ahead danced around my mind. As I crossed the intersection, I nodded a friendly hello to the driver whose car idled at the corner waiting to turn. Apparently, he never saw me. When my bike glided in front of his path, his foot simultaneously applied pressure on the gas pedal, propelling me into the air.

I can still visualize and re-play my mini-flight through the street. Accidents really do occur in slow motion. Why? Because our estimates of time depend on how much we remember, and more memories are laid down in an emergency. I still chuckle to myself remembering how, in mid-air, I tried to pedal faster, thinking I could coast down instead of crashing down onto the ground.

When the EMS team arrived, I was still on the ground. I never lost consciousness, and I can recall oh-so-well the stench rising from the manhole my face was resting on. During transport in the ambulance, I was fixated on my husband’s facial expressions, waiting for a sign of either relief or additional concern as he chatted with the medical team.

New to the department and the organization, I was a stranger to the care team members in the emergency department. The staff was kind, informative and reassuring. After a thorough exam, I waited for the x-ray results.

The waiting — dealing with the unknown — was the most difficult part of this entire ordeal. My imagination ran rampant, which quickly awakened that monster we call fear. As the minutes passed, I was engaged in a private battle, fighting the urge to cry while I listened to my husband make quiet small talk with my new coworkers, who raced to the ED after I called to say I would be a little late.

Overwhelmed with anxiety, I was ready to surrender to the cascade of tears, when I heard a knock on the door. As it opened, I saw a familiar face in a volunteer uniform, along with a very happy apricot-colored goldendoodle named Ragamuffin. #gamechanger

THE ROLE OF A THERAPY DOG

Many people associate therapy dogs with bedside visitation in hospitals, nursing homes and assisted living facilities. This is true and will always be the foundation to the practices of our program. Visitation is key to patients and family members as well as medical personnel.

Medical professionals now realize Animal Assisted Therapy/Intervention can be used as a complementary form of therapy that involves animals as a form of treatment. We are learning every day how to incorporate these animals into the patient’s healing process.

It’s been three years since my bicycle encounter on Ashley Avenue. And for three years, I purposely continue to carry that October morning with me as the MUSC Therapy Animal Coordinator. I feel “chosen” to have experienced and survived this nightmare because it’s been the pedaling force — pun intended — behind why I work so hard every day fulfilling therapy animal requests.

I am blessed beyond measure to have only memories of those bumps, bruises and road rash burns from the accident. For me, this is a personal “connect-to-purpose” with our hospitalized patients. Oftentimes, I see my husband and coworkers in the faces of family members and friends of a patient when I am bringing one of my doodles to visit. There’s a piece of me I can honestly and sincerely say empathizes with those I serve.

Accidents and illnesses can disrupt the fabrics of our lives. People are forced into unfamiliar and stressful situations. Certified therapy dogs not only reduce stress, depression and blood pressure, they improve self-esteem and increase physical mobility. Research shows us that goal-oriented and structured interventions intentionally incorporated with therapy dogs for the sole purpose of therapeutic gains are consistently proving enhanced clinical outcomes.

DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES

MUSC has a robust Animal Assisted Therapy Program, one that prides itself on the hospital’s mission statement: “changing what’s possible in health care.” I like to think we’re contributing with an innovative approach, one paw at a time. When partnered with physicians, therapists and nurses, canine intervention assists our patients to reach their health goals, remain positive and motivated.

These therapy dogs specialize in tail-wagging happiness all across the Lowcountry. In addition to the four major hospitals downtown, therapy dogs are assigned to more than seven outpatient clinics, recently including a Pediatric Specialty Clinic located on North Highway 17 in Mount Pleasant.

On any given day, pediatric patients may be given the option of having a therapy pup participate in their scheduled appointment. Pediatricians find some of their patients respond well during examinations, consultations, and/or treatments with a little paw to hold, coat to brush or wagging tail to watch.

Therapy dog teams at MUSC are welcomed throughout our facilities and have made a significant impact in the lives of thousands over the years. With more than 81 active teams in this program, therapy dogs are available for, but not limited to, the following:

• spend time with care team members as well as non-clinical staff members throughout the hospital — Administration, Finance, Chaplains and Facilities/Environmental Services need puppy love too!
• share tail-wagging happiness with medical students cramming for exams
• remain with a patient in pre-op before surgery
• sit with family members in the surgical waiting rooms
• provide comfort for the families and medical teams during end-of-life honor walks
• partner with physical, recreational and occupational therapists for rehab appointments
• be bedside in post-op if needed to lower blood pressure

As the wife of a retired Army Infantry Officer, the concept of community engagement was instilled in me throughout his career. Supporting local areas who can benefit from the presence of therapy dogs is important.

I want to attract, promote and most of all educate all of Charleston County with the limitless abilities these incredible animals possess. I am proud to say we have done that at the Charleston International Airport, Local Pet Expos and our annual Blessing of the Therapy Animals Recognition Ceremony, to name a few.

THERAPY DOG QUALIFICATIONS

I am often asked “I’d like to volunteer in your program — how can my dog become a therapy dog?” A certified therapy dog must be a friendly dog. Breed is not limited to any specific type. Basic commands are essential — and therapy dogs should have already reached adulthood. Most organizations will not test puppies under 1 year old.

If your dog is well-socialized, calm when meeting other people, not skittish when approached by shopping carts, roller blades or skateboards, in excellent health, has the ability to ignore other dogs and knows when to “leave it” — you could possibly have a wonderful therapy dog in your home, ready to volunteer.

A dog must be registered through a nationally-recognized therapy organization. Once your dog has been approved, you are free to seek organizations that are appealing to you. Here at MUSC, we have onboarding procedures which involve an interview process, orientation, training and then observation.

Many pet parents seek formal training from a variety of sources. Some do it to hone in on areas of concern, such as barking and pulling, and others pursue titles like Good Canine Citizen Awards. I support any and all methods that you believe will strengthen your dog’s skills and abilities.

The year before the pandemic, 92 teams provided 10,619 bedside visits to our patients. That equates to 5,565 hours of pawsome memories! Now that we are back, I love to walk the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of a volunteer team coming from or heading to a patient’s room. The human is always wearing a smile, and the canine therapist’s tail is swishing back and forth a hundred times a minute. That’s the sight I long to see because it reaffirms this team is loving their job. The wagging tail symbolizes the dog feeling purposeful, which creates this electric energy that seems to skyrocket up the leash to the human hand on the other end.

It’s almost an indescribable experience to have helped someone during one of their darkest moments. There’s something very special about giving of your time and talents to aid another human being. To be able to do that with your favorite furry friend takes it to an entirely new level.

Post-traumatic stress disorder: we all know what it means, but do we understand the impact of PTSD on the daily lives of those who suffer from it? Probably not–how on earth could anyone comprehend the experience of a military veteran in a war-torn area without having a shared or even similar experience?

According to the American Psychiatric Association, PTSD is clinically defined as “a psychiatric disorder that may occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, war/combat or rape, or who have been threatened with death, sexual violence or serious injury.”

Although anyone can experience PTSD, for our purposes here, we will look at it from the perspective of a local military veteran.

The US Department of Veterans Affairs reports the number of veterans with PTSD varies based on their era of service: about 30% of Vietnam veterans have experienced PTSD in their lifetime, while between 11 and 20% of those who served in Operations Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom and an estimated 12% of Gulf War veterans experience PTSD in a given year. Some veterans do not seek diagnosis or treatment for many years following their service, which indicates these numbers may be higher.

But there is hope for sufferers. While it is unlikely a PTSD patient would ever fully “recover” from their trauma, they can—and do—live with their symptoms daily. This manageability is made possible through different therapies and even anti-anxiety medication when deemed necessary, but perhaps the sweetest comfort comes from the furriest among us.

Under South Carolina law, “service animal” means an animal is trained for the purposes of assisting or accommodating the mental or physical disability of a disabled person.

Mount Pleasant resident and former US Marine John Beahm can attest to the value his service dog Sadie, a Llewellin setter, provides. He has a medical prescription for a service animal and continues to work with Sadie daily to hone her skills and enhance their relationship. As a combat-wounded Vietnam veteran, Beahm, who now carries a near-200% combined disability rating from the VA, suffers from a form of PTSD that can trigger aggression. But Sadie’s superpower is to temper those episodes–she can sense when they are approaching, and he recognizes when she is concerned, which causes him to step back and avoid an aggressive response. Together for just under two years now, they are a team and very much attuned to each other. “We go everywhere together. She knows when she’s working, and she knows when it’s time to just be a dog,” he remarked. “Sadie has been a lifesaver for me.”

At our initial meeting, Sadie was excited and exuberant. A few minutes later, the vest and leash were attached, and her entire demeanor shifted to a more serious working mode. Her pace slowed, her gait adjusted, and her full attention was on Beahm. And although the Americans with Disabilities Act does not require service animals to wear a vest, tag or any specific harness, and Beahm personally prefers to not call attention to it, he recognizes that these identifying accessories encourage others to not disturb service animals while they are working.

Beahm is a former Acting Platoon Sergeant who incurred a traumatic amputation in Vietnam, and while surgeons were able to reattach the limb, it is non-functioning.  For the last several years, he has worn a knee-to-ankle brace with computer elements to help monitor and improve his gait, but Sadie is also present for physical support if it’s needed. Her primary job, though, is to see him through the bouts of PTSD that can be triggered all-too-often by everyday things like news reports of violence which, according to him, are ever-present and can be overwhelming. Service animals like Sadie become adept at detecting physical anxiety and distress and can interrupt the process before it becomes a full-blown attack. “She’s a Godsend, truly,” said Beahm.

Jake Nold, Director of Philanthropy with Operation Patriots FOB, offered suggestions for family members of PTSD patients, stating, “A service dog is not the end-all be-all when it comes to PTSD. In the absence of a service dog, the companionship of a well-trained dog at home can be of great benefit to some. Working with organizations such as OPFOB and getting outside to enjoy the naturally therapeutic benefits of the outdoors is highly recommended. The key thing for families to understand is that some things will simply never be the same for their family members who suffer from PTSD, but there is no need to enable negative coping behaviors. Empower the individual to learn to live life to the best of their ability and reach out to organizations and people willing to help them do so.” 

While Sadie was acquired and trained privately and continues her training daily through real-life experiences, there are other resources and organizations that support veterans in their pursuit of service animals. For more information, contact the VA or your health care provider, or visit petsforvets.com and servicedogs4vets.org.

By Jeanne Taylor