I admit it. I’m a people watcher. I like to get the feel of a place by observing the comings and goings of people. At the moment, I’m at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America Bloggers’ Summit at the Western Regional Medical Center in Goodyear, Arizona. During a break in the many presentations involving cancer technologies, I stepped out into the lobby, sat down, and just watched the passing parade. I wasn’t expecting pooches in service “uniforms”.
I had already found the two fish tanks flanking a big fireplace on my first visit. Fish gotta swim and they do here. The bright colors attract the eye and draw you in. I always like to see signs of life in a hospital, and that was a positive impression of the Western Regional Medical Center in my book.
But yesterday, on my second day here, I saw something I never thought I would see — a retirement party for a dog. Pee Dee, the chocolate lab, was hanging up his hat as a service dog at the hospital.
All the other dogs were there for the party, some frisky and tail-wagging, others gently awaiting your approach. It was a nice bunch of pups, and it was clear from the reactions of the people passing by that these dogs were well-loved, by patients, by family members, by staff.
I watched all the hands come out to greet the dogs. Some people stopped and bent down to say hi. Others gave an affectionate pat or a little scratch behind the ear in passing. The ladies who accompanied the service dogs were cheerful and kind, too. It gave the lobby of the hospital a friendly feel. This is no cold, sterile medical environment. And all that was before the party started.
It was held outside, in the courtyard, a space filled with barbecue grills and benches, just off the sports area, where a putting green awaits. (The current LPGA champs have nothing to fear — it took about 50 shots to make my only hole-in-one of the day….) There was cake, a small ceremony, and lots of chuckles and cheers for Pee Dee.
Why do I write about a retirement party for a service dog? That’s what you get at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America facility here in the Arizona desert. People who stop for ten minutes to thank a pup who has cheered patients through the cancer treatment process. It’s about connecting to life, to the little things we can and should celebrate together. Warm hands, warm hearts help cancer patients get through the challenges of cancer treatment, but they also get the staff through, too.
That’s why I like to just sit sometimes and observe, especially when I’m in a new place. I don’t want people to tell me what it’s like to be there. I want to see it for myself. I want to watch what patients and family members do, to see their reactions to a place. Are they comfortable or miserable? You can see cancer patients in the garden, sitting at tables in the shade, enjoying the day, or wheeled out in their wheelchairs by loved ones. This doesn’t feel like a hospital, even though I know it is. It’s a place where patients can take a break and get outside on a pleasant day — Arizona has a lot of those at this time of the year. It’s a place where even a dog like Pee Dee gets his due.