Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Why Take The Risk?

(Contributed by Lori Whitwam, Practice Manager)

This is the time of year when many families employ a lawn treatment service. Most of us want – or are under pressure from neighbors to have – a lush, vividly green, weed-free yard. Unfortunately, there is almost no way to achieve this without the use of chemicals.

The lawn treatment companies advertise the safety of the chemicals they use. They even put giant pictures of Golden Retrievers and Dalmatians on the sides of their trucks. They tell customers that the lawn is perfectly safe for pets once the chemicals have dried.

I absolutely do not believe this.

These chemicals are toxic. They kill foliage. They interfere with seed germination. They circumvent the natural life cycle of the plants they eliminate and the insects that inhabit those plants. I don’t care if the chemicals are wet and soaking your pet’s pads and fur, or if it is dry and leaving only traces of residue.

It is poison.

I can’t cite studies or specific research, but I do have – on most days – a certain amount of common sense. I can also give you some unofficial “research,” which much to my shame and dismay was unintentionally conducted on my own dogs.

When we moved into our first house in 1990, we had two Cocker Spaniels, Flash and Porsche. In 1991, we added another Cocker, Cricket. In 1994, we got my beloved Golden Retriever, Ripley. We lived in that house until June of 1996, and we used a well-known lawn service the entire time. Many times throughout the spring and summer, the technicians pulled their big truck with the picture of the puppy on the side into our driveway, hooked up their hoses, and saturated our lawn with chemicals to kill the dandelions and crab grass, as well as to fertilize the lawn itself.

We had a beautiful yard. Our dogs ran, played, and rolled in it, always after the treatment had dried. They ate grass and licked their paws. They ate bugs and who-knows-what-else that they found outside. They lay in the shade under the maple trees.

We moved to Minnesota in 1996, and never once used a chemical lawn treatment after our relocation. But let me tell you the fates of the dogs who lived for so many years with a poisoned yard.

Porsche died suddenly at the age of 12 due to an immune-mediated blood disorder. Cricket died at the age of 11, due to a similar disorder. Cricket had also suffered from seizures since she was six months old, and had glaucoma. She was blind by the age of 5. I can’t directly tie the blindness to chemical exposure, but I can sure make a good case for the seizures and both dogs’ immune-mediated blood disorders.

Flash made it a bit longer, until the age of 13. However, he spent the final 5 years of his life suffering with Cushing’s Disease, which is a malfunction of the adrenal gland. He lost most of his hair and muscle mass, and was a shadow of his former self. As this is again a defect of the immune system, I can see a probable connection with the chemicals.

My Ripley died of hemangiosarcoma, a fast-moving cancer of the blood vessels. Again… chemicals used in lawn care may have been responsible.

No, I can’t say beyond doubt that lawn chemicals caused the diseases and disorders that took my dogs’ lives. But given the following evidence, it’s enough proof for me, and I will never, ever use any sort of chemical on my yard.

I’ve had numerous other dogs since moving to Minnesota, and none of them have ever been exposed to lawn chemicals while in my care. Seko and Sprocket, both Golden Retrievers, lived to 14 and 16 years old, and both were ultimately euthanized due to structural degeneration in the rear quarters. Despite all the supplements and supportive care they received, the eventual physical breakdown of a large-breed dog is almost inevitable, if they live long enough. I do not associate this in any way with chemical exposure.

Gulliver, a Great Pyrenees mix, died abruptly from what was believed to be a brain aneurysm. This was probably a congenital defect, and I cannot see any connection to toxins.

Ruxpin, a Golden Retriever, also died rapidly from an antibiotic-resistant staph infection and had nothing to do with the absence or presence of chemicals.

I currently have three dogs. Ozark is a 10 year old Great Pyrenees mix, Darwin is a five year old Golden Retriever, and Brody is a four year old Great Pyrenees. None of them have any health concerns whatsoever.

No, this is not conclusive evidence. But I can say that there is a high degree of likelihood that all four dogs who were raised on chemically-treated lawns died of things that were associated with that chemical exposure… and there is a very low likelihood that chemicals had anything to do with the symptoms or illnesses seen in the dogs I’ve had since I stopped allowing lawn chemicals to be used. My chemical-free dogs have enjoyed overall better health during the course of their lives, and their deaths were not hastened in any way because of toxins.

I understand that there are other factors that have contributed to my chemical-free dogs’ health. I began feeding my dogs a lot better about ten years ago, a combination of raw and super-premium dry foods. I also have refused to vaccinate any dog once it comes into my care. I know these are beneficial changes in their overall lifestyles, just as I know that banning lawn chemicals from their environment is.

And that’s good enough for me.

We determined long ago that the yard belongs to the dogs. Really, how yard-proud can you be if you have dogs? Their urine leaves spots in the grass, they dig holes, and they construct their own motocross courses around the fence line. Am I so worried about the appearance of a hunk of grass that I am willing to deny my dogs the pleasures of their own yard? And is the need for a green, fluffy lawn so important that I’m willing to risk my dogs’ health? The evidence may not be proven to the nth-degree, but my common sense and years of monitoring my dogs’ health tells me that soaking my yard in chemicals isn’t good for them.

And it’s probably not good for children, either.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Whose Decision Is It, Anyway?

(Contributed by Dr. Jessica Levy)

Okay, so veterinarians have been over-vaccinating animals for years. A lot of health problems and serious diseases are caused by vaccines. Many animals suffer severe reactions or even die after vaccination. It's all true.

In spite of this, I think that blasting veterinarians as the sole source of over-vaccination is overrated. How many times have I been forced against my better judgment to vaccinate an animal because the boarding kennel, the groomer, or the trainer required that the pet have "all his shots" before setting paw in their establishment? In order to take your dog to PetCo for a $5 nail trim, you have to prove that all the vaccines are up to date.

Any pet catalog will sell you any animal vaccine you want, and you can vaccinate your own pet as often as you please. In some states, the vaccines are available for purchase at farm stores or feed mills. State and municipal laws require boostering of rabies vaccines at predetermined intervals, regardless of what science tells us about post-vaccination duration of immunity.

Veterinarians play a decreasingly important role in deciding what gets done to animals and why. Yes, we're the ones conducting the research, but the information is not being disseminated to the wider public. In the past, we put so much time and effort into brainwashing people into believing that their pets would die without their annual shots, that now we've created an uncontrollable monster.

Some veterinarians may feel that if they don't follow the manufacturer's recommendation for that annual booster that they will expose themselves to legal attack. There have also been articles in the veterinary literature claiming that if I use a vaccine labeled for booster in a year, but I tell my client that it's good for three years, that I am putting my license at risk.

Hello, fellow veterinarians. We are professionals. We are highly educated. We have brains, and we can think. Can we regain control of this situation and put a stop to this nonsense? I fear that as a profession we are losing our credibility. The American Veterinary Medical Association has not shown the strong leadership I had hoped when I joined that organization. Veterinarians end up being blown around by the latest trends instead of taking a stand and upholding ourselves as the medical professionals we are.

Do day care employees determine the vaccination schedule of the children in their care? I think not.

Friday, June 26, 2009

It Doesn't Hurt

(Contributed by Dr. Jessica Levy)

I love it when people say that they know their pet is not in pain. The dog who is three-legged lame, the cat hiding in the closet, the horse who refuses a jump, whose owners all announce, "He doesn't seem to be in pain. Yeah, he's limping, hasn't eaten in three days, and his eye is squinted shut and crusty, but he seems to feel fine!"

Look at the person next to you in line at the bank, on the next treadmill over at the gym, in the checkout line at the grocery store. What do you think? Are they just starting to get a migraine, having really bad period cramps, or holding in a fart? Guess what - YOU CAN'T TELL!

Why the heck would we think we know what our pets are feeling? Are we a nation of animal communicators? (And don't even get me started on that topic!) Are we all psychic? Have we all dropped so much acid that now we can see auras? Not likely!

Bottom line, we have no idea what any person or animal is feeling. All we can base our assumptions on is what is thought to be normal for that animal or that species. When dogs are not in pain, they use all their limbs equally. When cats feel good, they are friendly and active. When horses feel limber and flexible, they take the jump with ease and confidence. And even these assumptions will get us fooled sometimes.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Farewell To A Friend

(Contributed by Lori Whitwam)

It’s always hard to lose a precious pet. It’s pretty much part of the deal we make with ourselves when we get them, and we spend their lives not thinking about the day they’ll be gone. I had to go through that (again) myself just two days ago.

My 15-year-old golden retriever, Sprocket, went to the proverbial Rainbow Bridge on Tuesday. He was my first foster dog for Retrieve A Golden of Minnesota in 1997. He was 4 years old at the time. When the family I’d chosen for him changed their minds at the last minute, I knew he was meant to stay with us, and he did, for 11 years.

Sprocket was a sweet, willing boy. He took the blue ribbon in his obedience class, and worked with me and his golden-brother, Ripley, as a Therapy Dog for several years. He loved our annual trip up north to a lakeside cabin, where he could ride in a boat, swim, fetch, and roll in the pine needles. He was a very agreeable dog, never wanted to make trouble or be in the way, and enjoyed the occasional sip from my wine glass. He was the tug-of-war champion of the world, and liked to sneak up on the other dogs when they were busy and “stealth sniff” them.

15 is really old for golden retrievers. Sprocket had always been a very healthy dog, aside from all the times he’d “accidentally” swallow bits of a toy, or a sock, or a wash cloth, get lots of x-rays and narrowly avoid exploratory surgery. His problem the last several years had been progressive loss of nerve and muscle function to his hind quarters.

I know that we were able to keep him for at least a couple of years longer than might have been expected, thanks to feeding him raw food, and providing him with great Standard Process whole food supplements, joint support, and herbal pain treatments. He benefitted from chiropractic care, acupuncture, and Healing Touch for Animals ™. But, ultimately, the progression of his condition could no longer be managed.

It was only in the past month or two that I had to resort to giving him prescription pain medications. I’m adamant about not giving any of my dogs unnecessary prescription drugs, and this includes antibiotics, steroids, and NSAIDs. While they might suppress a symptom, making the dog appear better, they can cause just as many problems as they alleviate.

He’d been just chugging along, declining slowly but hanging in there. Then, on Monday, I arrived home and found him sprawled spread-eagle on the kitchen floor, urine and stool around him, a sopping mess. He couldn’t get up on the slate floor. I got him up, and managed to get all 80 pounds of him into the tub to clean him up. (And then I broke down a bit.) When my husband got home, we spent a nice evening with him, baby-gated in the bedroom to keep the other dogs from disturbing us. He fed Sprocket pizza and M&Ms (not good, but at that point it hardly mattered). We knew that in the next several days we would have to make a very tough decision.

Never wanting to be a problem, Sprocket made the decision for us. The next morning, he couldn’t stand up at all. I hoisted him upright, but he didn’t have enough control of his rear legs to stay that way. So, it was time.

Afterwards, I was so grateful that I still have Brody (3 year old Great Pyrenees), Ozark (9 year old Pyr/Golden mix) and Darwin (4 year old golden). All the years I’ve worked in the veterinary business, I’ve worried about people with only one dog. How awful it must be to go home to an empty house, after saying goodbye to your only dog.

I even worry about the people with just two dogs. I feel sad for the “only dog” who is left. I’m definitely a “pack animal,” and insist that I’ll always have at least three dogs, though my husband thinks two might be better. We have three now, of course, and that’s a tiny pack for us. In the 12 ½ years we’ve been in this house, we’ve been “over the limit” of three dogs for all but March-November of 2007. We’ve had as many as seven at one time. I don’t think I could do that anymore, but I do love my three-dog pack. I just wish we were still “four.”

I’ve counseled people for years about how to know when it is time to say farewell to their pets. I know all the answers. I tell people to think of two or three things the pet loved more than anything, and whether they can still do/enjoy those things. Do the bad days outnumber the good ones? Is there any realistic expectation that he or she will see improvement in their condition? Finally, look deep into your heart and ask yourself if you’re keeping the pet alive for the pet’s sake, or your own.

Yes, I know the answers… except when I’m the one who has to answer them. Then, I struggle as much as any of you do.

Please keep my Sprocket in your thoughts, as he adjusts to his new existence, where all good dogs go. I’m sure he’s with my Ripley, who went ahead two years ago this month. Ripley took care of him in life, and will do so now. He’s also getting reacquainted with former pack-mates Porsche, Cricket, Flash, Gulliver, Seko and Ruxpin.

Friends keep telling me that Sprocket was lucky to have found us, and maybe that is true. But I know for sure that we were truly, truly fortunate to have found him, and to have had him for 11 wonderful years.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Talking the Talk

(Contributed by Dr. Jessica Levy)

These drug ads on TV just crack me up. The latest insane ad I’ve noticed is for some Rheumatoid Arthritis drug, where a woman exclaims: “I knew Rheumatoid Arthritis could be painful, but I didn’t know it could affect my joints!” What are you, a moron? What did you think “arthritis” meant? When you were diagnosed, did your doctor fail to explain what RA means? Did you fail to ask? It’s a pretty significant disease. I would think any doctor would mention the joint thing. But, you never know. And some people don’t ask.

I spend probably more time than I should bemoaning the state of health education in modern schools. People are either undereducated about health, or self-educated. Granted, how you teach a room full of teenagers anything, I’ll never know. I paid a lot of attention in high school and worked really hard, but only because I knew I wanted to go to vet school. In any case, it didn’t really work for me, and in spite of all my efforts I was a B or C student at best. Some stuff I was good at, like history and languages and reading, and some stuff like math and sciences just failed to make an impression on me.

Of course, the school system was a little wacky, too (aren’t they all). In 11th or 12th grade all the teachers went on strike for 3 months. What a deal! It was awesome! And the school year still wrapped up right on time. Oh, yeah, at first there was some whining about “how are we going to fit all this important information into the short time we have left”, but apparently they figured it out.

That’s almost as good as my nephew’s school burning down 2 weeks before summer break. My sister said it was every kid’s dream come true. Apparently a forest fire got a little too close. Luckily it was a weekend, so no one was in class, and in Israel all the buildings are made of stone, so the school wasn’t razed to the ground or anything, but the windows blew out and the walls were blackened. And school was closed for the year.

I’m sure we had some sort of health education in high school, but I can’t remember any of it. We had biology class, and I remember dissecting frozen fish. A gym teacher once told us we knew nothing about our bodies, but then wasn’t inclined to explain it herself.

After vet school, it took me a couple of years to realize that I no longer spoke English. Instead I spoke “medicalese”, and I had to relearn a lost language in order to communicate with my clients. Medicalese was easy for me, because my dad was a doctor and Mom was an English major, and people who visited us used to comment on how my parents spoke “like something out of a book”. Even today, my dad speaks the most grammatically correct Hebrew you’d ever want to hear. No slang in our house!

I try to make medicine as simple and easy to understand as possible. But it’s like trying to speak Spanish to someone whose vocabulary consists of “Una mas cervesa, por favor!” What I need is a cartoon textbook of physiology, a graphic novel of basic health and healing. Anybody out there got one?

(Return to the Whole Health Veterinary Website)


Monday, October 20, 2008

A Seminar Worth Every Penny

(Contributed by Dr. Jessica Levy)

About three weeks ago, I went to a weekend seminar that was hosted by Standard Process and taught by Dr. Stuart White, a nutritionist and chiropractor from Houston, Texas. I had never been to a Standard Process seminar before. It's hard to drag veterinarians to non-veterinary lectures. We don't have time, we're too busy, and we don't get any continuing education credits for our money, so why go?

I went because I was getting a little burned out at work, and really needed to sit in a hotel room all day and have someone lecture at me. Also, I needed knitting time (it's baby blanket season in my world). And as a kinesthetic learner, knitting really helps me focus on what is being said and taught.

As recent events in my hospital have turned out, my business partner's departure quashed my plans to attend the American Veterinary Medical Association meeting, as well as a course in Fundamentals of Small Animal Osteopathy, and the Veterinary Chiropractic course had to be put on hold, too. So, desperate for education, there I was at the Bloomington Hilton, in a room full of chiropractors, nutritionists, and - surprise! - a veterinarian from Bemidji.

What a day! I learned a ton about nutrition and about Standard Process products, and got a lot more information than I've ever had about how to apply them in practice to really make a difference in my patients' lives. The best part was that Dr. White passed around bottles of supplements and had us take them on the spot, and the immediate changes were dramatic!

Since then, I've started myself on a regimen of Standard Process supplements, which I've been taking twice a day - lots of them. I feel better, my mind is sharper, I can get more stuff done, and I sleep better at night. I've been applying my new understanding to my own pets as well as my patients, and getting better results with my treatments. This seminar was well worth the money!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Living a Healthy Life

(Contributed by Dr. Jessica Levy)

The other day I was talking to my oldest sister. The topic was people we knew who were getting older and sicker. She discussed the health status of her in-laws, who are in their 80’s and suffer from diabetes, heart disease, and asthma; I brought up my husband’s only surviving grandparent, also in her 80’s, who has diverticulitis and is in an assisted living facility because she is too weak to walk.

My sister, who is 11 years older than I, was concerned that this is the way of the world, as you get older you get sicker, and it somehow seems unavoidable. I reminded her that our father is going to be 81 this year, and is in robust health, thanks to good genetic material and his wife, who monitors his diet a little closer than is comfortable. (Sometimes my siblings and I have to sneak Dad away to his favorite steakhouse, where he is not officially “allowed” to eat by the powers that be.)

On the other hand, he’s always interested in something new, spends summers in Israel and winters in Florida, and periodically sends me emails along the lines of: “We’re on our way to Vienna (or Frankfurt or Aruba), here’s our hotel contact information, etc.”

My lesson from this is that taking care of your own health really does pay off. Good old diet and exercise, as well as maintaining an active and interested mind, will keep us alive and healthy. We are lucky to have Dad as an example of how to do it right. Plus, we hope we got the good genes, too.

So there we were being all self-righteous, when we remembered that Mom’s been dead for 15 years. She died of myelofibrosis, which is one of those rare weird things that people die of. Not hereditary, as far as I know, and she lived several years with a disease that has a dire prognosis. She also quit smoking, watched her weight, read like a maniac, knitted like crazy, traveled the world, and never cooked the same thing twice.

Better clean up my act, before it’s too late.