Perspective

Kona and I made a special trip to the VA Hospital today. Along with one of the other therapy teams we do our regular visits with, we were invited to go to a special ward, to see how our dogs reacted, and to see how we reacted. The ward is called the "Community Living Services" area, and was formerly called the "Hospice" ward. I thought I was prepared to visit with the patients there. I was wrong.

Nothing can prepare you to visit with people you know are dying. Unless you have a heart of stone, it is emotionally wrenching. We visited approximately 16 rooms, some with as many as 4 patients in them, some with only 1. The rooms with only 1 patient in them are the toughest. Those are the people who don't have much longer. We saw several very elderly gentlemen, some in wonderful spirits, and very happy for the company, and some with blank, staring eyes, that make you wonder if they are even aware of your presence. Kona was on his very best behavior, and I don't think I've ever been more proud of him. He truly was a Golden Angel today.

I got through most of the rooms without any problem. I chit-chatted my way along, smiling, saying hello, introducing Kona as I normally do, answering the questions I always get.

Until we got to one certain room....with only one gentleman in it. He was a young man, only in his early 50's or so, and it was my guess that he was suffering from cancer or something along those lines. He didn't have any of the visible injuries I am used to seeing at the VA, no lost limbs, no back or neck brace. He was just lying in bed, very pale, with tubes and wires coming out of him. His wife, a beautiful young woman of perhaps 45 or so, was sitting holding his hand. The room was full of other friends and relatives, about 5 or 6 total. Before we walked in the room was quiet. The administrator taking us around asked if it was OK for us to come in. There was a resounding "Yes!" so, in we went.

The wife let go of her husband's hand and said, "Oh, look Art, there are some beautiful dogs here to see you." She positioned his hand so he could stroke Kona's fur. He was unable to speak, but I could see his expression pert up the tiniest bit. It broke my heart. The wife leaned down and gave Kona a hug. He snuggled into her neck, and let her hold him. My dog is an angel.

Several of the others in the room got out of their chairs and came over to Kona, and Wilson, the other therapy dog making the visit with us today. They took their turns hugging, petting and relishing our dogs. The wife cried as she thanked me for bringing my dog in to visit. She told me that it was the only thing she had to smile about today. I was only barely able to hold back my own tears. We were there for only a few brief moments, but that experience will never leave me. I really, truly, and maybe even for the first time, understand what it means to be a therapy team. We brought a few minutes of joy to some real people in need.

We finished up our rounds on the ward, and as we did, I saw the wife saying goodbye to a couple of the others that had been in the room with her and her husband. One asked "how much longer does he have?" Her answer, "We think its getting close, maybe only a couple more hours or so."

The finality of those words stung me.

I haven't stopped thinking about that visit all afternoon. The administrator wants us to come back twice a month for more visits. I don't know if I can do it. My heart aches for the people I saw today. I don't think I'm that tough of a cookie. It certainly put my own worries and troubles in perspective, that's for sure.

The next time I dread making dinner, I will think of the woman who wishes she could have just one more dinner with her husband.

The next time Hubby and I have an argument, I will think of the woman who wishes she could hear her husband's voice just one more time.

The next time I yell at my kids, I will remind myself at how lucky I am to have beautiful, healthy children.

The next time I look around my house and think it's a disaster area, I will remind myself at how lucky I am to have a home, with a safe warm bed to fall into each night.

And the next time I get mad at Kona for chewing up a brand new toy that I just bought for him, I will remind myself that he is absolutely an Golden Angel.

My boy was exhausted when he got home. I can't blame him. It was emotionally draining for both of us. He had been snoozing when I took his picture...even angels need naps.