Animal-Assisted Services 101, Part 2: Stories of Impact

Whitney Romine, M.P.H., C-AAIS, KPA-CTP
Animal-Assisted Services Manager | Animal-Assisted Services Coordinator
Mayo Clinic Rochester

*  Permission received from Hiedy to include her and Savvy’s names.
**Identifying information has been changed to protect patient privacy.

I arrived in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit one with Caring Canines therapy dog volunteer team, Hiedy and Savvy*. Savvy is an adult Golden Retriever. Golden Retrievers are known for being sensitive to emotions, which is what may have earned them a reputation as therapy dogs. However, that trait can also expose them to overwhelm, like humans in caring professions, so it is important to carefully observe interactions and advocate for their safety and comfort depending on what you see.

A Child Life Specialist spotted us and called out, “We have a patient** that was admitted last night. They were involved in an accident that required surgery. They’re struggling with pain, and we’ve tried everything we can to connect with them. Can you help?” I explained to the Child Life Specialist that we can try to visit but may need to end the visit early if the dog shows signs of stress. She runs to check with the surgeon to check for visit instructions. The surgeon gives the OK. She grabs a clean sheet from the linen closet, in case the dog is allowed to lay on the bed.

As we approach the room, the child’s voice grows louder. We can start to make out the words now. “It hurts! It hurts! Help me! When will the pain stop? I want it to stop. I want to go home.” We knock, then open the door and see the patient surrounded by family. Mom is sitting on the opposite side of the bed and Dad is sitting on the closer side of the bed holding his daughter’s hand. Everyone’s face lights up for a moment when they see the dog. The strain is still there behind the smiles. It’s never easy to see your child in pain, especially when you can’t make it better. We can see they have carried this for a while.

I look down at Savvy standing in the doorway. Her eyes are soft, ears relaxed, mouth hanging open slightly. She has a gentle tail wag as she looks from the patient to the family, to me and to Hiedy. I look at Hiedy. She nods slightly. “My name is Whitney; I’m the therapy dog program manager. I’m here with my friends Hiedy and Savvy today. They have been hospital volunteers for a while now, but it’s their first time visiting this unit so we might need to take some breaks. Would you like a visit?”

“YES!” The patient responds immediately, before resuming vocalizing her pain. I glance at the Child Life Specialist, who discreetly positions herself in the room. I explain to the family what I do as I do it, positioning a chair at the bedside so that Savvy can sit within the patient’s reach. Hiedy steps over, braces the chair with her foot, and invites Savvy up onto the chair with a visual cue. She stays close by to provide support through soft speech and gentle touch, slowly stroking Savvy’s shoulder, ears, or chest. Dad helps his daughter apply hand sanitizer and then reaches her fingertips over to stroke Savvy’s golden fur.

“She’s soft.” The patient says. Hiedy engages the patient in conversation about Savvy, explaining her likes and dislikes, how long she’s been a therapy dog, and shares a story about something silly Savvy did at home. The patient laughs. Everyone pauses their conversation to watch.

I glance at the Child Life Specialist and then at Hiedy. Both nod. “Would you like Savvy to sit on the bed with yo—”

“YES!” The patient doesn’t let me finish my question this time. I gently lay out the blanket and explain to the family that this helps control dog saliva, fur, or skin dander to keep their bed clean. Even though the dogs are bathed before their visits, we are extra careful in hospitals to keep everyone safe.

Hiedy lightly taps the bed to invite Savvy up if she would like. Savvy puts one paw up, tests her weight, and then a second paw. She slowly crawls in beside the patient, leaning her back up against the patient’s side and settles in. When she’s comfortable, she gently slips her nose under the patient’s fingers and lifts. The patient’s fingers curl and uncurl as she strokes Savvy’s snout. Savvy turns her head and glances at Hiedy, who smiles and speaks soft encouraging words, and then nuzzles the patient’s hand again.

We hear an exhale. Then, in a quiet voice, the patient asks “What’s going to happen to me? Will I ever be normal?” The Child Life Specialist, waiting for this moment, steps forward and crouches down at eye level with the patient. “You’re not alone. We are here for you. We are going to be here every step of the way. I’ll help answer all your questions.” The patient engages in conversation with the Child Life Specialist for a few minutes. We wait for the moment that comes during all visits when we can see it is time to move on.

“Thank you so much for letting us visit with you today,” Hiedy says, “Savvy enjoyed her visit with you. Here is her card, so she can be with you when you need her.” Savvy’s eyes were still soft, ears neutral, mouth hanging open slightly. She slid her nose under Hiedy’s hand and leaned against her side.

The care team shared with me later that they had been trying to communicate with that patient all day, and the dog visit was the first time they were able to connect.

Read more stories of impact at Mayo Clinic:

• Become a Caring Canines volunteer at Mayo Clinic
• ‘Dogtor’ and doctor return joy to boy with severe epilepsy – Mayo Clinic News Network
• In patient’s darkest hour, Caring Canine Lily was a bright light | In the Loop