Just be yourself... In a pink and grey smock.

Recently, someone asked me, "How did you and Rin get started at WakeMed? Did it take a long time? Were you nervous? Was Rin nervous?" and I remember thinking, "I wrote a blog post about this way back in 2014...I need to go back and find that blog post, so I can retrace those first halting steps of service and those first few weeks of our service volunteering at WakeMed.

So, I did... Enjoy!

Originally Written in Winter 2014:

It was below freezing that day and a rush of warm air blew my hair back off my face as I entered the glass and tile lobby of the local Trauma Center, WakeMed. The heels of my brown suede boots clicked loudly around the efficient echo-chamber that was the tile, glass and stone of the beautiful upstairs lobby. This lobby was bright with sunlight pouring in from its floor to ceiling windows, and that light glinted off of many shining surfaces of stone and glass. I decided that since I couldn’t be inconspicuous in my loud heels and dramatic black cape, I’d be conspicuous (like a beauty queen on a runway) and raised my head, smiled and strode proudly, but was secretly apologetic for all the noise I was making, all the way into the center of the hospital, and down to the Volunteer Services Offices in the bowels of the building. It’s always the most important offices that are located in the bowels of buildings, if you notice; kitchens, boiler rooms, training rooms, IT and tele-technology warrens, blood banks and other offices of importance. I soon came to learn that the Volunteer Services Offices was one of the MOST important of these.

The long entry hallway of the Volunteer Services offices opened up into a windowless suite of offices, a bit claustrophobic at first, if I’m to be honest, but filled with the bright energy of smiling faces and open hearts. I glanced around the room and noticed that she had thick, blond hair pulled back in a neat pony-tail and stood tall on her kitten heels. She was Natalie, and she and I were going to get to know each other over the next few weeks. Did you know that I have a debilitating, clinical fear of needles and shots to the point that I shake and sweat when I get near offices with these tools? Natalie knows. Did you know that I never get a flu shot (until now)? Natalie does. Do you know what my vaccine record looks like? Natalie does. Did you know that I have no criminal record? Natalie knows. What about my credit record? Natalie knows… In fact, as the Volunteer Services Specialist at the Trauma Center, she knows more about me than probably anyone. You’d think that it might be a bit awkward sharing all these life details with a virtual stranger, but Natalie approaches everything with a gentle honesty; not condescending or overly simplistic (as if Mr. Rogers were interviewing you), but just a genuine, thoughtful soul.

Why were we undertaking this interview process? New job? No. New mortgage loan? No. You’ll never guess – I’ll tell you: To become a Therapy Dog Team at this Trauma Center, WakeMed Raleigh …known onsite at the Hospitality Pet Program, but it ain’t easy to become a part of a top-tier team. It takes paperwork. Lots of paperwork. It takes driving to see Health staff for shots and record keeping (more paperwork), it takes seeing the specially assigned Veterinarian at least four times to make sure you have ticked all the boxes (does he bite? Is he shy?) and all the tests and vaccinations to make sure the K9 part of the team is healthy enough for service. The K9 part of the team, Rin, my own dog who was chosen from a German Shepherd Dog Rescue especially for this service work, was deemed fit for service (thump goes the stamp!) and I was told he was going to “be a star!” by his Veterinarian.

By the time we received our official notice of acceptance and could-we-come-do-a-test-run request, I had a 3 pound binder and bag just for all the paperwork… I was already worried about how well we would actually test against all the paperwork testaments to our presumed abilities. (would we measure up?) The list of expected, controlled behavior from both Rin and me was as long as a Chinese Take Out menu. The list basically said to do things a certain, specific way… don’t do this, but make sure and do that. Ensure you do this, but when do this, make sure and do that. Don’t EVER do this, and you MUST do this properly. If that was hard to read…good, it will give you an idea of how important all the rules are and how high the bar is set for any dog team, but especially a dog team working in a hospital. EVERYONE is WATCHING! There I was, so chic in my first pink Volunteer smock (the kind you tie at the side) and badge and Rin with his badge, in a very tense environment.

Rin, was new to the place, and being a very young and high energy dog it was tough trying keep him at heel. I was doing my best to apologize to everyone when he was terrified of the elevator, and make sure he took treats nicely and didn't jump on anyone and be perfect… and be proper….and be excellent…all the while making sure my mascara wasn't running down my face as I sweated all the micro-moments and roasted in the hospital heat. WHEW!! Now, if I’m to be honest, I have to say that after the first day, and as I left the hospital a sweaty mess; I felt flushed with pure failure, and looked like I’d run a mile – my hair had frizzed from sweat and my hands were sticky with antibacterial hand sanitizer. I got into my car and buried my face in my hands and sobbed. I had imagined that we would go into the hospital that day and be the perfect team – the team that helps everyone we encountered, calm and elegant and cool and collected. But, I didn’t help anyone that day… I felt that I’d let everyone down, and all my work to prepare for this job was done was for nothing. I couldn't stop crying – my heart was breaking with disappointment.

Imagine my shock when I heard from Natalie that we passed all our tests; and would we “please consider coming to work as a volunteer Therapy Dog Team for WakeMed Hospital?” So, with my heart full of joy, I accepted…unsure of what they saw in us, we weren't the perfectly obedient team, Rin didn't walk exactly to heel, and was very frightened of the multi-colored floors and the elevator and I kept forgetting to put on the hand sanitizer. After our second visit, I felt the same sorrow, and I wondered if I was in the right place… we weren't helping anyone, we were just wandering the halls, trying to make a connection. I finally asked my father, who is a practicing Physician, what I was doing wrong. I couldn't get Rin to be perfect; I couldn't stop sweating from the stress of meeting all the requirements of behavior – and the roasting heat of the hospital; and the stress of not being perfect was overwhelming. My father said, “Stop. Just BE YOURSELF, if you don’t remember all the rules, you’ll remember them next time. If you just be yourself, you will be able to do this job.”

So, I focused on being myself on the next visit…I threw out the rule book and just smiled…I realized I hadn't been smiling and wondered if that might be off-putting to patients and staff. I put on bright red lipstick and smiled at everyone I saw… The reaction from patients, staff and visitors was remarkable; and we started to make an impact – we started to bring joy, humor, love and energy to a place that is full of sorrow, stress, sadness and sometimes hopelessness. People would throw their arms open, as if they had known Rin and me their whole lives.

That’s THE ABILITY of a DOG; dogs make people who are strangers to each other to be friends at the snap of the fingers – instant friends! Especially a dog like Rin who is so trusting and open that he instantly earns the trust of even the most timid person…it’s magical to watch. Without Rin, I was a stranger, and I wouldn't be able to walk into a room and visit with a person I didn't know, but who was lonely, frightened, bored and who wanted someone to talk to them. Someone who wasn't there to evaluate them or to test them, to assess them in some way, someone who was simply there to sit with them and talk with them, and to allow them to cuddle with Rin.

Once I changed my approach to our volunteering, and stopped trying to be a perfect action figure, I lost my nervousness and began to meet amazing people...! One night, I talked for 20 minutes one day to a patient who grew up in the UK at the start of WW2, about what life was like during the war. I spoke to an RN about her time growing up in Jamaica, I spoke to a Physical Therapist about Rin and his experience before being adopted by us, and I spoke to lots of people about their dogs and cats and horses at home.

One day, I sat with a woman who was suffering the effects of MS and had lost most of her speech and the ability to walk. We were asked to visit with her, and I sat quietly with Rin next to her bed and talked with her about her lovely hair, braided perfectly by her nurse. After she secretly complained to me about how her husband was trying to brush her graying auburn hair, I winked at her and showed him how to brush her long, thick hair without hurting her, or pulling her hair. He was overjoyed to have someone take the time to show him the secret to brushing long hair. He threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, “THAT’S how you do it!! Awesome! Now I can brush it without pulling it out!” It was as if I’d told him he’d won the lottery. She looked at me and winked back at me. Instinctively, I reached out my hand to her and she grabbed it and held it; then, she slowly raised her other hand to stroke my hand. When she tired of that, she dropped her hand but still stroked my hand with her thumb…as if she had known me her whole life. I held my breath as if I was touching a baby deer…I held onto the moment as long as I could. I still remember her cool, soft hands and her huge yellow-brown eyes.

Later, I sat with a patient whose family had asked for a Dog Team to come and visit. When we showed up and moved over to the patient so that he could pet Rin, I heard them say, “Oh look! He’s using that arm he hasn't used since he got sick!” His family brought out their phones and took pictures, laughing, calling out addresses of friends and family to whom the photos should be sent. I looked at the patient in the bed and he held my gaze, as if to say, “Thank you…” Instinctively, I reached out and rested my hand on his cheek, his face was prickly from days of beard growth, but I hardly felt it as I was focused on what he was saying with his eyes. In spite of his condition, I felt a simple peace in his eyes. The quiet joy that he gave me was a small seed of emotion at first, but I felt it growing slowly in my throat, and it came out as a laugh - I felt like I was soaring… finally, we were helping people.

Recently, I was asked if I was willing to make a visit to the 'secured' area, where the mental health unit is located. Was I “afraid to visit?”, I was asked. My instinctual answer leaped out of my heart first, and then came from my mouth, “Absolutely not! Can we go now?” I knew that these patients were some of the most wounded patients in the building, but they showed few visible scars or injuries. Their bodies looked whole, but their spirits, their minds and their hearts were broken. I took Rin to a small common room where these patients could come to us if they wanted to come. It would be up to them to decide for themselves whether or not to come and visit with us. Slowly, like feral cats, thin and frail, they wandered in. Some gasped with breathy delight, “Oh my God! There’s a big dog in here!” “Look! Look! Look!” “OH! Can I pet him…?!” They sat down on the floor with me and looked at me out of wounded eyes…eyes that were sensitive and gentle but that had seen too much. I kicked off my shoes and folded my legs under me and sat on the floor with Rin, who was, at that point, nodding off to sleep on his back, his legs in the air, looking very much like a giant, black and tan Easter Bunny.

All of these stories and more have come about because one person thought enough of other people, of people in need of service, of emotional ministry, to get involved. It happens because one person and one dog joined together to give that service to others; it’s really as simple as that. I know that these folks will remember Rin, they’ll remember me, as I remember every one of them. They’ll tell stories to friends and family about the dog called Rin and how he brought his human, Lynn in to talk with them while they were in hospital.

I've learned so much this year about myself, and about Rin, and about others. People praise me for being a volunteer, they send me thank-you notes and emails, but… if I’m truthful, it’s me that’s getting the service, and receiving the gift. This service we provide has lightened my soul, made me whole, helped me to focus less on myself and more on others, which has been like spiritual nutrition…and it’s a strange phenomenon, but when you focus on others, it’s YOU that receives the blessings.

Try it and see...and make sure and bring your dog.