The Gifts of Healing
Helping people is what Health Science Center faculty, staff and students do best. It happens every day in the six HSC colleges and at Shands at UF, not only on holidays or at certain times of the year. But as the holidays approach and 2006 comes to a close, we're taking a look back at just a few of the inspiring ways HSC folks have made a difference, from helping a little boy walk again to using dance to change a girl's life.
PHHP program helps boy learn to walk - again
T here was no way to know if it was going to work.
The boy was only 4, and he couldn't move. Not an inch. Kyle Bartolini hadn't been able to wiggle his toes or move his legs since 2003, when he found an unlocked gun in the bathroom at a Labor Day party and accidentally shot himself in the chest. Forget walking - Kyle's spinal cord was so damaged he almost didn't live.
In the 10 years assistant professor Andrea Behrman, Ph.D., had been researching locomotor training as a rehabilitation strategy, she and her staff and students in the department of physical therapy at the College of Public Health and Health Professions had never treated a patient so young, so severely injured. The therapy, which relies on an instinct in the spinal cord to learn patterns, over time helps people with spinal cord injuries re-learn how to walk but requires hours of walking with assistance on a treadmill and over ground. A 4-year-old might not be able to handle it.
But the risk was worth it. Now 6, Kyle can walk with the aid of a walker, a vast improvement for a boy who was never supposed to walk again.
"There was not a good reason not to attempt this with this child," said Behrman, sitting in her office, where pictures of Kyle and other patients are taped to the cabinets above her desk. "It's not 100 percent recovery, but it changes the trajectory of his life."
Jamie Bartolini said it wasn't just the locomotor training that helped her son, a quadriplegic. It was everything else Behrman did, too. For starters, Behrman was the only one who agreed to help Kyle. Other institutions Bartolini called had turned her away because her son was so young and his injuries were so severe.
"He couldn't move at all," Bartolini said. "He was like a noodle."
Behrman gathered a special team of physical therapists to work with Kyle, and together they devised creative ways to make his therapy fun.
"She took a chance on Kyle because of his age, and she gave him the chance of a lifetime," Bartolini said. "She just opened up her heart to him. It was so much more than just therapy. We feel so unbelievably fortunate."
Dancing through the pain
B ertis Mackey never knows how long the stabbing pain pulsing through her legs and back will last. Sometimes it's gone in two days. Sometimes she's in the hospital for two weeks.
There's no way to stop the pain Mackey feels from sickle cell anemia, an inherited disease that causes blood cells to form into rigid, sickle shapes that can block tiny blood vessels and don't live as long as normal, round cells.
But when she dances, Mackey, 18, isn't the teenager in pain anymore. Her mind takes her somewhere else, a place where all she can feel is the dance, at least for a little while.
"It helps me to concentrate, to get my mind off (the pain)," Mackey said. "It helps my legs too. I can feel the difference when I dance."
Mackey, a high school senior, discovered dancing when she was a patient at Shands at UF 12 years ago. Jill Sonke-Henderson, a dancer-in-residence with the Shands Arts in Medicine program, came to Mackey's hospital room armed with music and a bag of scarves.
Mackey stayed in bed watching while Sonke-Henderson danced. She was too shy to dance at first, but she liked the scarves and draped them over her head. Eventually, still under the scarves, Mackey began singing and swaying to the music, Sonke-Henderson remembers.
"It energized her," she said. "She went from just lying in bed to moving."
After that, Sonke-Henderson visited Mackey whenever she was in the hospital. At first, her dancing was mostly about movement. But as Mackey grew older, Sonke-Henderson taught her different types of dance, like modern and ballet, in her hospital room. But something changed four years ago when she brought a Chopin CD for Mackey to listen to in the hospital.
"She was so inspired (by the music) and connected that she went to this new place with her dancing, this creative space (in the mind) that artists strive to get to," Sonke-Henderson said. "Now, she has developed a really sophisticated way of dancing to relieve pain. She focuses on how good the dancing feels."
When she feels pain, Mackey dances in her room, sometimes gliding across the floor like a ballerina, other times bouncing to a hip-hop beat.
"It's like an art, you can have your own movements and be creative," Mackey said. "I try to do everything I can (to relieve pain) at home. I really don't want to go to the hospital. I just like to live a normal life like everyone else."
Sonke-Henderson was so inspired by Mackey she started the Traffic Art and Dance Exchange program, a group for teens and adults with sickle cell disease. On Fridays, Mackey and four other sickle cell patients meet with Sonke-Henderson and UF dance students and work on choreographed moves.
"I thought she was teasing," Mackey said of when Jill told her about the program. "I was so excited. I couldn't wait to go."
Nursing students help patient 'get her eyes back'
K aye Eaddy is blind. She has a condition that sometimes causes her to have seizures, too. But she still holds a paying job, lives independently in her own apartment and takes a class to study for her GED.
Eaddy may need help with housework and daily chores from time to time, but she cherishes her independence. That's why students from UF's College of Nursing helped her get Sophie, a black Labrador retriever that now acts as Eaddy's eyes.
"I love her so much," said Eaddy, who finally got Sophie in September after months of waiting for her own guide dog. "She keeps me company and understands when I am upset. But the best part is that I feel like I have been given my eyes back. I am more free than I was before."
UF nursing students met Eaddy as a part of a clinical rotation. The students and faculty members seek to help people live in regular housing, socialize in the community and return to school or work.
A few years ago, one of the nursing students who worked with her applied for a grant to get Eaddy a guide dog. It took months of intensive training and waiting, but Eaddy and Sophie are finally together.
To celebrate and help Eaddy with the costs, the students also collected donations for dog supplies and threw Eaddy a "dog shower."
Now, Eaddy said she is even eating better and smoking less so she can be healthy for Sophie.
"Its been so rewarding to see how much joy and positivity that Sophie has brought to Kaye's life, and the fact that we have had a small part in it feels so good," said Carissa Stanley, one of the students who has visited Eaddy regularly. "It helps you to understand why nurses do what we do."
Leveling the field for Gainesville's working poor
W hen was the last time you paid $2 for a tooth filling? At Gainesville Community Ministry, private dentists and UF dental faculty and students volunteer their time to keep dental treatment costs low for Gainesville's working poor, providing dental services for $2 per procedure.
"Our clinic targets people who would not otherwise be able to afford the services," said Cynthia Ramos, the clinic's office manager. "Seventy percent of our clientele are single parents or grandparents with jobs but no insurance and not enough income to afford dental services," she said.
Organizations like Gainesville Community Ministry serve as social safety nets for the 30 million working-poor Americans laboring harder for less ''¦. Less in wages, less paid time off and less health insurance coverage. These workers, with annual incomes of $18,800 or less, work full time in fields such as child care, elder care, the restaurant industry and retail but still have difficulty making ends meet &$45 and often are forced to sacrifice health insurance and dental care to pay rent and buy groceries.
More than 700,000 Floridians are members of working poor families. Florida's Medicaid program covers the cost of dental care for the children in these families, but emergency extraction of painfully diseased teeth is the only coverage extended to adults. The Gainesville Community Ministry clinic offers an affordable alternative.
"We're here every Friday, usually all day," said Micaela Gibbs, D.D.S., an associate clinical professor and director of the college's Community Based Programs. "Our students have been rotating through the clinic under faculty supervision for the past year and a half. Just about everything you see here, all the equipment and supplies, has been donated and private dentists also volunteer. It's a real community effort."
Local dentist Randall B. Caton, D.D.S., was the catalyst behind establishing the dental clinic at Gainesville Community Ministry, a nondenominational outreach ministry that for 30 years has served Gainesville residents.
Gainesville Community Ministry also offers a food pantry, school supplies for children, utility assistance and a crisis management program that helps individuals and families who have fallen on hard times because of a crisis in their lives. For more information, visit www.betterday.org.
Cow sees clearly after cataract surgery at UF's VMC
C alves like Lulu usually aren't the pick of the herd.
Peter Petres had been looking for a Miniature Jersey cow for the ranchette he shares with his wife in Bradenton, Fla., for a while. He'd checked on breeders, kept track of prices and stockpiled other information on the breed, but when he saw the ad for Lulu, a calf born with cataracts, he knew he'd found his cow. The blinding defect is rare and lowers a calf's worth in the marketplace, which usually means it will be slaughtered.
"It tugged at my heartstrings, what the outlook might be for this calf, so before I even spoke to the breeder, I contacted UF's Veterinary Medical Center to see what might be done," Petres said.
In October, Petres brought his newly purchased cow Lulu to the UF VMC, where the ophthalmology team performed surgery to remove her cataracts, giving the 4-month-old calf a chance to see for the first time.
"We did cataract extraction by way of a procedure called phacoemulsification, which involves making a small incision in the cornea - the same procedure that we use to remove cataracts in dogs and that human ophthalmologists use to remove cataracts in humans," said Caryn Plummer, D.V.M., an assistant professor of ophthalmology who served as the attending veterinarian on the case along with Maria Kallberg, D.V.M., Ph.D. "The cow's lens is much larger, though."
Lulu stayed at the veterinary medical center for a week. Each day, veterinary ophthalmology resident Sarah Blackwood, D.V.M., called the Petreses to update them on the calf's progress.
These days, Lulu is "doing great," Plummer said.
"She's healing beautifully," Plummer said. "Her vision will never be normal, because we do not have an intraocular lens available for use in cows, since there is no commercial market for such things. Even so, her vision will certainly be better than before the cataract removal."
Before surgery, Lulu's routine was limited when she was alone because of her sight, Petres said. He walked her on a halter, though, and no one could avoid paying attention to the cute calf.
"She was brushed and handled often and seemed to thrive," he said.
But the surgery at UF changed everything. Now, it's clear eyes and blue skies for Lulu.
"The next morning (after she returned home) when I brought Lulu out of the stall into the pasture, it was her turn to kick and run," Petres said. "She ran around in circles, stopped to sniff poles, sniff me, and then went back to running."
Halloween event a treat for children with diabetes
N ico Ditota still trick-or-treats on Halloween. Unlike most 10-year-old children, he gives away most of the candy he collects.
He likes candy and usually keeps about 10 pieces. But Nico has diabetes, and eating just one Reese's peanut butter cup causes his blood sugar to skyrocket, said his mother, Kim Ditota.
"You want him to be a regular kid, but he can't eat all that candy," she said. "Holidays like Easter and Halloween are really hard for a diabetic (child)."
At the Operation Diabetes October Bash held each year in Jacksonville, where the family lives, Nico doesn't have to worry about eating too much candy or fitting in with his peers. All the other kids there have diabetes too.
"They're like me," Nico said.
Each year, members of the Academy of Student Pharmacists at the UF College of Pharmacy in Jacksonville organize the event with the local chapter of the American Diabetes Association and volunteer there on the big day. The students paint pint-sized faces, organize games and raffles, pass out diabetes-friendly fare and give away glucose monitors. This year, the kids even had a bounce house and pony rides, one of many activities UF pharmacy student Jennifer Kim supervised.
"That was kind of scary because I'm not really good with ponies," she joked. "(But) it felt great to help children in the community."
Kim, who helped organize the event, had already met with parents to plan some of the activities. Listening to their struggles with managing blood sugar and even dealing with schools, Kim said she realized how much diabetes affects every facet of a child's life and how much she takes her own health for granted.
It also made helping the children have a great Halloween seem even more important, she said.
"That's their Halloween," she said. "That's what makes us happy about the event, seeing the kids have fun."
Nico, who has attended the bash the past three years, said he doesn't even miss all the candy at Halloween anymore. There are too many other things to do.
"It's fun," he said. "You get to be like any other kid."