I have been making therapy dog visits to a local nursing home for 19 years now. At this point in time, there are still two people alive that I started visiting with in 1992. I visit each week with one of my dogs – and get to know these folks pretty well. They are residents – this is their home. For a 5 year period, I visited patients in the psychiatric unit of an area hospital. It is hard not to be touched by the sadness and mental anguish in their lives. And, in March of 2009, I started visiting hospice patients with James in a facility 45 minutes from home.
I make this drive – 56 miles round trip – to my hospice patients each week because it’s important. I feel a sense of urgency that I haven’t felt in my other facilities. These folks, opting to go on hospice (or put on by family members), are on a time clock. To go on hospice, a doctor must sign off on the patient, indicating that he or she has six months to live.
The visits with James have a powerful impact on the patient. For the time he is there, the patient feels happy – and is somehow removed from sadness and pain – a smile brightening their face as they pet and talk with him. As each week goes by, though, I can see the ability to interact become more labored. But, still, the patient’s eyes brighten or the body shows signs of feeling calmed as the dog lies down along side them in their bed. (Over the six month period, they have moved from sitting in their chair, talking to me while petting the dog, to lying in bed – towards the end – motionless.)
Without counting the months, after yesterday’s visit to our patient, I know she is near the end… she was visibly in a lot of pain lying in her bed; she tried to talk – but couldn’t; and I had to place her hand on James’ head – her fingers barely able to move – but still she was able to feel the softness of his fur and the comfort of his body lying along side her in her bed. When we left, as always, I said, James and I will see you next week. But, instead of her usual response of, OK, I’ll see you next week, then. She took ahold of my wrist, looked up into my face, and barely able to speak, said, Good-bye.
I don’t know whether we will see her again next week… I feel an urgency to make my visits because the clock is ticking. This is draining work – but, I know how much James’ visits have meant to this patient. Counting up the months, now, I realize, it’s been seven months – one month beyond…
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