Shake, Rattle and Roll

Your Victory May Just Be At the Next Exit

Keeping in mind Davis Phinney's motto is that "every victory counts," it's nice to have some victorious news to share.    

                                                                                                                                                   

Victory 1: I had an appointment with neurologist and movement disorder specialist, Dr. Avi Kurtz. From the moment that I walked into the appointment, my right hand started shaking uncontrollably. I've complained to him about my right hand tremor in the past, but this time he actually witnessed my tremor for an hour. He paid attention and watched the tremor closely, took notes, changed the Deep Brain Stimulation settings for Parkinson's Disease and asked me which setting seemed better--this setting or that setting--similar to a vision test.

He discovered that the frequency setting was set too high for my condition. My tremor almost disappeared entirely when he reset the frequency. Now that I've had several days with the new settings, there is very little tremor in my right hand, I finally feel at peace without all of that shaking and movement.

Victory 2: I've followed Dr. Kurtz's recommendation of reducing the dosage of one of my anti-Parkinson’s meds by 50%. This has resulted in a major decrease in my dyskinetic episodes (those wild, involuntary movements) in my legs. On many days, my dyskinesia is almost non-existent.

Victory 3: One more victory: A couple of nights ago around dusk, my husband, Tom, took our English Springer Spaniel, Rusty, out for a walk. When they arrived at the park, two little boys (about age 4 and age 7) came up to them, crying and very upset, saying they couldn't find their parents. Tom got the phone numbers of the parents from the older boy, and called the police. While waiting for the police, the kids played with Rusty. The younger boy gave Rusty a full body bear hug and lots of pats. It may not be too late to convert Rusty into a therapy dog. This was a victory for Rusty, Tom and me who adopted Rusty from the rescue and transformed a distressed, fearful dog into a faithful, companion dog, who now seems happy and content. It was a victory for all of us when Rusty showed that he is finally beginning to trust humans.

Vets Focus On Neurological Disorders in Dogs, Humans

Oreo Hanging Out with Kate
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Photo: Copyright © 2007, Deborah Fryer, www.lilafilms.com

ScienceDaily (Jan. 29, 2008) — Parkinson's disease and epilepsy strike millions of people each year. They also affect countless dogs, and veterinarians at the University of Missouri are working to find ways to treat these and other neurological diseases in both species.

Dennis O'Brien, professor of veterinary medicine and surgery and director of the comparative neurology program in the College of Veterinary Medicine, and a team of researchers are investigating the causes and potential treatments for a number of diseases that can be fatal in both humans and animals.

"These diseases have been recognized in dogs for many years, but now we have the tools to do something about it," said O'Brien, who was recently named as the first Chancellor's Chair of Excellence in Comparative Neurology. "In the past, there was little that we could do other than treat the symptoms. Now, with pets, we can identify the genes responsible and breed away from some of these problems. We also have the human connection to these diseases, and as we learn from research on both species, we can apply it to both humans and animals and everyone will benefit."

Currently, researchers with the comparative neurology program are investigating several diseases that can affect dogs and humans. These diseases include:

• Epilepsy - a common disease characterized by repetitive seizures. It has many different causes, but it is thought to be a hereditary condition in many dogs.

• Parkinson's disease - caused by a loss of a neurotransmitter, dopamine, in nerve cells. Symptoms include tremors, stiff muscles or movement, and difficulty with balancing and walking.

In humans, Parkinson's is a disease of the elderly, while in dogs it is a hereditary disease affecting young dogs.

• Degenerative Myelopathy - a common neurological disease that affects the spinal cords in adult dogs. Typically, the dog will lose function of its rear legs and, eventually, will be paralyzed.

At the same time that researchers are investigating these diseases, O'Brien and his team also are working in the MU Veterinary Medicine Teaching Hospital, applying their knowledge to help dogs now. For example, the program recently received an underwater treadmill that will help rehabilitate dogs that have suffered spinal or nerve injuries and are temporarily paralyzed.

"Moving in water is great therapy," O'Brien said. "You don’t have to support any body weight, but at the same time, the muscles have to work through some resistance. This helps to exercise the limbs."

Adapted from materials provided by University of Missouri.

Source:

University of Missouri (2008, January 29). Vets Focus On Neurological Disorders In Dogs, Humans. ScienceDaily. Retrieved February 4, 2008, from http://www.sciencedaily.com¬ /releases/2008/01/080123181351.htm

I’ll Do in a Pinch

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Oreo, our spoiled female English Springer Spaniel, came into our lives when she was rescued during the week of 9/11 by the English Springer Rescue of the Rockies. Abandoned by her two previous owners, Oreo’s separation anxiety issues have spawned guilt issues in my husband, Tom and me. Oreo, who bonded more closely with Tom, has decided that since I’m home on disability, I’ll do in a pinch when Tom is unavailable.

Oreo’s predecessor was Darby, another Springer that we purchased as a puppy in 1983, when we lived in Canada. We fell in love with this breed with their floppy ears, intense brown eyes, liver and white coats and sweet temperaments.

Both Darby and I were adventurous and active during my pre-Parkinson’s days. Darby, a brave dog, chased a grizzly bear and big horn sheep in the Canadian Rockies. When we moved to California, her favorite pastime was swimming in the Pacific Ocean. She accompanied me on my early morning five-mile runs. Darby passed away in 1999.

Two years later when we adopted Oreo, she loved to run and catch balls as if she was the catcher for the Colorado Rockies Baseball team. Now arthritic at the age of eleven, Oreo has slowed down and became stiff like me with Parkinson’s. Oreo enjoys belly-rubs, and petting her calms me. She doesn’t judge me with my Parkinson’s. Oreo, a faithful companion, demonstrates with her gratitude that I’ll do in a pinch.

Photo: Copyright © 2007 Deborah Fryer, www.lilafilms.com

The Retired Dog

I never thought about a dog retiring, just as I never thought about myself retiring.

Imagine my surprise when I visited my friend, Liz in San Francisco last week to discover that she was retiring her blond seeing-eye Lab, Tiki.

Tiki was making too many mistakes (e.g., bumping into things) which compromised Liz’s safety as a blind person. I too was making too many mistakes before I was forced to retire with Parkinson’s Disease.

I first met Tiki in late October of 2004 when I was employed as coordinator of volunteers at the University of Colorado Hospital. I volunteered to be a dog sitter/walker (and coordinate other dog sitters and walkers) for Tiki when Liz, who traveled from her home in San Francisco, visited her son Eric in the Intensive Care Unit. Liz was not allowed to bring Tiki into the Intensive Care Unit, and I dog sat from 10 AM-3 PM for two months in the volunteer office. Eric nearly died from a rare strep infection that cost him his left arm and shoulder.

On the first day of my assignment, I rolled over svelte 50 pound Tiki to read her dog tag and discovered that she was from the Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, California. I was honored to be entrusted with someone’s ability to see and get around in the world.

During her two months stay, Tiki became a celebrity at the hospital. Everywhere I walked on the hospital campus, I heard greetings of “Hi Tiki” surrounding me (never voices of “Hi Kate” even though I had been employed at the hospital for more than five years by then).

On March 10, 2001 Liz formally took Tiki as a partner at the graduation stage of Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael. Tiki has been Liz’s faithful companion ever since. They are a well-traveled pair, spending extended periods in Italy, Japan and the US.

Tiki is retiring with Liz’s daughter and her family on the peninsula south of San Francisco. As Tiki washed my face with kisses when we said goodbye last week, I wanted her to know that there is a good life with retirement and that she, like me, earned and deserved it.

Liz hopes to be graduating with her new dog partner in San Rafael on September 1, 2007.

Send up the Dog

Yesterday I had lunch with two yellow labs, Nimoy and Sully, and their human parents, Bonnie and Jack. The humans ate while the dogs sat quietly under the table at the restaurant on a wintry day of the month-long freeze in Colorado.

I first met this family of humans and dogs while I was employed as the coordinator of hospital volunteers. Bonnie, Jack and Nimoy, a therapy dog, were volunteers from Denver Pet Partners. Sully was a puppy-in-training from the Guide Dog for the Blind and would eventually be placed with a blind person.

Yesterday, we reminisced about an experience last April. I worked in the volunteer services office and received a phone call. The Caller ID revealed an internal call from a person by the name of Jody.

“I know you have dogs down there,” she said. “I saw one on the elevator. Send one up to the eighth floor,” she barked. Jody must have been referring to Nimoy.

The volunteer services office often had unusual requests to send up or down human volunteers, as though we had a ready supply in the freezer, and all we needed to do is pop them in the microwave, and they were good to go.

Jody was a medical secretary in the hospital. She explained that Rudy* was a patient for the past two months, that he was waiting for a heart transplant, but he might die while waiting. Rudy was from a small town in Montana near the Canadian border, had no family in Denver, and missed his dog.

The hospital recently implemented an animal-assisted therapy program, composed of teams from Denver Pet Partners: Diana with Rigo, a black lab; Jack and Bonnie with Nimoy, a yellow lab; Lisa with her dogs, Olivia and Willoughby; and Maggie with her sheltie, Corky.

Each dog had business cards with resumes that were superior to mine. For example, Nimoy’s attributes are “cherished family member, people-oriented, steadfast, loyal, and loving companion” (sounds better than some husbands that I know), while Rigo’s qualities were “very affectionate and intelligent, willing to please, takes his work seriously, gets along well with all dogs and people, and shares his bones.” These human-dog therapy teams worked with patients and their speech therapists, occupational therapists and physical therapists.

If I could interview Nimoy and Rigo, I’d ask them how they felt about being “career change dogs.” Neither made the cut to work with blind people at the Guide Dog for the Blind in San Rafael, Califonia, and both were now working as animal-assisted therapy dogs. They still had important work to do in their reclassified jobs.

I arranged that all of the Denver Pet Partners’ teams visit Rudy. Jack and Bonnie discovered that they were from the same small town in Montana as Rudy. Was this a coincidence, I asked? They shrugged and responded that Montana had a small population, and everyone knew each other.

The teams visited Rudy for about three weeks. Maggie, one of the volunteer team members with Corky, wanted to get her other dog, Dinkie, a 12 year old male tri-color sheltie, also registered as a volunteer. I escorted Maggie and Dinkie downstairs to get his photo taken for his hospital ID. Like the other therapy dogs, he hopped on the chair and proudly opened his mouth, smiling for the camera.

Every dog has a story. About a year ago, Dinkie was on death’s doorstep with Cushing’s Disease. He lost most of his coat, and everyone thought it was just a matter of time. But Dinkie rebounded.

We usually didn’t have animal therapy teams on Tuesdays, but Maggie wanted to check in with Rudy nevertheless. We discovered that Rudy was in the critical care unit of the hospital and were informed that within the next several minutes, he would be wheeled off to surgery for a heart transplant. Rudy insisted on seeing Maggie and Dinkie before surgery. Maggie and her dog went in to the pre-op room and said a prayer with Rudy. Rudy was whisked away for surgery with warm dog thoughts and prayers. Within his first few minutes as a volunteer, Dinkie became a healing dog.

Rudy thrived with his new heart, thanks to Dinkie, the miracle dog, the visits by the Denver Pet Partners teams, and perhaps the heart surgeons, as well.

About nine months later when Jack and Nimoy were doing their rounds at the hospital, Nimoy was squirming, excited to see someone that Jack didn’t recognized. When Jack got closer, he realized that it was Rudy, looking so healthy with his new heart. Rudy was back from Montana for a quarterly outpatient visit.

Yesterday, as we left the restaurant, I hugged each family member, feeling overwhelmed by the power of the human-animal connection.

* Note: Name changed to protect identity.

Three Dog Night

I’m in the midst of a doggy dilemma. It’s complicated. I have Parkinson’s Disease (PD) and am on long term disability. I’m in search of one multi-purpose dog that serves three roles:

Dog #1-The Pet:
My husband, Tom and I currently have a one-dog home with 10 year old Oreo, a spoiled, untrained female English Springer Spaniel. We rescued her during the week of 9/11. Oreo’s two previous owners abandoned her, and she has separation anxiety issues, which has resulted in us having guilt issues. Oreo has been more closely bonded with Tom during the past five years until I began staying at home on disability in June 2006. Now Oreo likes me if Tom works late or is out of town. She thinks that I’ll “do in a pinch.”

Dog #2-The Therapy Dog:
Prior to my retirement from my employment as coordinator of volunteers at a local hospital, I assisted in designing and implementing an animal assisted therapy program. The program involved dogs and their handlers that worked with patients and physical, occupational and speech therapists in the rehabilitation department. Many of the career-changed dogs in this program were from the Guide Dogs for the Blind. A career-changed dog was one that didn’t make the cut for a visually impaired person, but had potential to be splendid dog for a sighted person. The key word here is “potential.” If I were able to adopt a career-changed dog, the responsibilities would include assisting me in volunteering in the animal-assisted therapy program at the hospital.

I’ve applied to adopt a career-changed dog. An adoption worker also visited our home.

For a cost of just $500, I could adopt one of these seven dogs:
A dog afraid of planes, trains and automobiles;
A dog fearful of smoke, fire, fireplaces, and barbeques;
A dog afraid of busses;
A dog that is just “too much dog” (probably too much testosterone);
A dog that has epilepsy;
A dog that has a soft trachea (gags on a collar) along with behavioral problems; or
A dog that is blind.

I’ve tried to be clear in my communication, but they still don’t get it.

Dog #3-The Service Dog:
And then I have a future doggy need. Many people with PD have problems with speech, balance and the ability to walk. There is an organization that trains dogs to assist people with balance and stability by matching the different changes in pace and stride of the PD patients with the dogs. The dogs are taught to counter-balance to prevent falls and to assist the persons from getting up from a fall should one occur. These dogs are specifically trained to break the Parkinsonian’s freeze, a phenomenon that occurs in greater frequency as the disease progresses. Often the dogs are able to anticipate a freeze.

Living with PD for ten years, I’m considered to be in an advanced stage. I am grateful that I seldom fall and have never frozen. But I also realize that falling and freezing could just be around the corner, and I need to be prepared for this eventuality.

If I complete an application, my neurologist completes a medical report, three friends complete personal references, someone takes a video of me so that they know what I look like with PD, and I send a check for $2,500, it would most likely take several years to find a dog that would be a suitable match. I don’t think so.

Someone suggested having three sets of roles and responsibilities might be confusing for the dog, as multitasking is sometimes perplexing to me. For example, if the dog acts as a pet, no vest is required, but wears a green vest when a therapy dog and a red vest when a service dog. I hope that neither of us is colorblind.

I was hoping for one multi-purpose dog to help me with these responsibilities. The likelihood of this happening remains slim.

Meanwhile, my husband, Tom, has been having nightmares about the possibility of caregiving me along with three dogs and working for a living. He can’t get that Beatles’ song out of his head, with the lyrics of “It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog...” ringing through his ears.