Article: What the animals tell us

WHEEL POWER
By ANTHONY THANASAYAN

OCCASSIONALLY, I get the opportunity to give talks on disability to members of the public. Last week was one such time.

The audience members were all doctors practising rehabilitation medicine or healthcare experts involved in one way or another in the particular scientific field.

More than a dozen of them came to hear my lunchtime talk at a government hospital in Kuala Lumpur. The meeting was arranged by a rehabilitation physician of the hospital.

I was to speak on animal-assisted therapy (AAT) and its health benefits to human beings, particularly those with disabilities and the elderly.

My mission that afternoon was to sensitise the healthcare workers present about how my own interaction with my pets had brought about significant changes in my life as a person born with a disability.

Although I have been disabled for nearly half a century, it is the last 10 years or so of my life that have been the most fulfilling and rewarding. That was when my wonderful dogs came into my life.

I was given only 30 minutes to make a lasting impression on the healthcare experts.

I showed the good doctors two original videos that were produced locally.

One was on how Petpositive’s aquarium therapy for a quadriplegic young lady had made a difference in her life despite some healthcare workers having given up on the individual.

The second was how my service dogs regularly help me overcome daily challenges at home.

My dogs are fully trained to open and shut doors, push my wheelchair and run upstairs and downstairs on errands for me. They can even retrieve essential objects for me, such as my urinal.

Despite these amazing feats, I pointed out that it is my canines’ ability to help me keep depression at bay which is what I appreciate most from their companionship.

I related an incident last year when one of my dogs zeroed in on a nasty pressure sore that was surreptitiously forming on one of my paralysed feet.

The discovery landed me in hospital in time for surgery to be done to save my infected limb, rather than have it amputated.

However, during my nine days of hospitalisation and total bed rest, the medical doctors who investigated my condition did not seem the least bit concerned or interested in how my dogs had played a pivotal role in my healthcare – or having got me to them in time in the first place.

I also regret that the government hospital in which I was warded did not have a room reserved for AAT when there were scores of other rooms for all types of treatment.

Even though I consider myself to be a positive thinking person, the nine days of being confined in bed started to depress me little by little as the days progressed.

And none of the smiling doctors and nurses in front of me had a clue as to what was going on inside of me. My dog, on the other hand, would have detected it almost instantaneously.

Let’s face it, it’s much more fun anytime to grab a kiss or to hug a warm and lovable pet than a stiff thermometer or cold stethoscope offered by a healthcare worker dressed in white, was my concluding remark at the talk.

This article was taken from: The Star Online: Lifestyle: Lifefocus 28 February 2008