by Debi Davis

Last week, Peek and I were slated to work with a new amputee living with diabetic neuropathy. The session was to start in the therapy gym, and the physcial therapist (PT) went through the exercises we'd be doing with the patient. With a bit of time to kill before the session started, I visited the rehab floor and chatted with people standing in the hallway.

A fellow standing in one patient room's doorway flagged me over and asked to meet Peek. He then showed me nonstop pictures of the new Lhasa pup he and his wife adopted 6 months ago. From my peripheral vision, I see his wife in her bed, crying. I can't stay any longer, as I'm due in the gym, so I schmooze a few moments more and make my hasty exit.

I get back to the gym a few minutes early, and the patient is finally wheeled into the therapy area. It's the very woman who was weeping in her bed, the one with the new puppy!

The woman sees me and starts crying again. Oh no! I'm wondering if it's my appearance that may be upsetting - I'm a double amputee, and I know she's just had her first leg amputation a couple days ago, and may not be ready for seeing a double amp yet.

But, I also know she is missing her dog fiercely, and I suspect seeing Peek and knowing he'll be part of today's exercise and therapy session triggered grief in having been parted from her dog.

I ask the PT if I might just go chat with the woman for a few minutes before we start the session, to make sure she's comfortable with my presence. And, perhaps she'd like to hold Peek on her lap and just pet him before getting down to work learning to walk again. We had our 5 minutes together, with the PT's blessing, and the woman really loved Peek. She said she had so many questions she wanted to ask me, and that no one prepared her for what she would face as an amputee. She was so frightened. I told her we'd work with the PT, do her exercises, then when we were finished, I'd spend as much time with her as she'd like, and answer all her questions honestly.

She worked her tailfeathers off! Then, when we finished, we went to the lounge together and she just poured her heart out to me, crying and laughing and just letting all the emotions out.

She asked me so many questions about living as an amputee, about how hard it was to learn to walk in an artificial leg, about pain, about transferring from chair to toilet, about images in public, phantom limb sensations, about resuming sexual activity - about all sorts of stuff like this.

And I was able to share so much - plus some very funny stories about things that have happend to me as an amputee, which really helped add levity. Mostly, though I listened, let her hold Peek, and express her fears without being interrupted.

We also talked about her wonderful new puppy and how now that she's a "legal" person with a disability, that she can enroll in the service dog positive reinforcement training courses offered here locally, and possibly turn her pet into a service dog, who could go everywhere with her, and pick up stuff she dropped, help her make the bed, tug stuff out of the dryer, open and shut cupboard doors, etc. to help her out every day.

She was so excited, it was as if a whole new life appeared for her. She became animated, looking forward to the future, planning how she could attend the classes, and watching as I shaped a few behaviors with Peek, to show her how much fun it would be for both her and the puppy.

She said she loved to teach her dog tricks, but she didn't like classes at all. That her last dog - a mini-daschund - went to one class, but they put on this metal chain thing and jerked on the dog until he screamed, and she never went back. Said she wasn't going to make her dog unhappy for any reason and would just go it alone.

She had no idea there was positive reinforcement training, and that dogs could actually enjoy classes! So she's stoked, motivated, and looking forward to the future. And she has my number if she needs to talk about the amputation stuff, too. The husband seemed so grateful for my having talked to her - said she seemed to have turned an emotional corner. And as he hugged me goodbye, thanking me nonstop, I see tears in his eyes.

It was all I could do not to cry in response. It was a very emotional moment for me, to know that such a small, insignificant sharing could make such a profound difference in someone's life. Talk about nourishment! I was so nourished.

The PT's and occupational therapists (OT's) were so excited about this, that they talked to the head of the program, and they now are hoping to start an amputee support/visitation group, and have visits from amputees to new amputees. I'm all for it. I thought by now they would have them everywhere, just as they do for women who have to have mastectomies.

But no, they don't have them for amputees, at least, not here. And so often, fear of the unknown just shuts people down. Just to see someone who has been through the same thing, and who now has a wonderful life - can be a great help. And having someone to answer questions about what will come in the future, what to expect, how to deal with the frustrations, the public staring, etc. - can be a real help.

I love the animal-assisted therapy (AAT) work, and see how much more enthusiastic patients are about their therapy sessions, and how they will work harder, not shut down when an animal is mitigating their progress. But when I also see there are times when I personally can help motivate, listen, help people to adjust to their changing health status, that's an added bonus I just never expect, and quite wondrous!

Peek, being a service dog working with me 24 hours a day, is very in tuned to physical changes, to pain, to exhaustion I experience. And he has learned to back off, remain quiet and non-intrusive when he senses I am not at my best, that I'm in pain or overly exhausted.

Last week we worked with a fellow who was post-stroke, and just sitting up was sheer exhaustion for him. He liked the dog, but just had no energy to try to interact more than tossing a ball a couple of times and having it retrieved for him. After the second toss, Peek refused to do it again, and instead, sought to lie next to the man and encourage the man to relax and just stroke Peek's fur.

I was a bit horrified, as I have never seen Peek just shut down like this - he is always willing to work, and to work for anyone, not just me.

But a couple of minutes later, the man turned to the PT, said, "My mind is willing, but my body is too exhausted to even sit up any longer. I really hate to do this, but I need to go back to my room."

What the PT and I had missed was that the patient was just too exhausted to do any more of anything. Peek knew it, and shut down immediately. And we were busy wondering why the dog's behavior was not appropriate, how to get Peek past this "Problem" and get him to interact. Instead, we discovered to our chagrin that the dog was simply responding as he has been taught to respond to a person who is not feeling well. He was doing his job very well.

What our animals teach us, huh? I often think I learn far more from the animal-assisted activity/therapy (AAA/AAT) work and get more from it than any of the residents and patients.