In 1977, Mary Joan Willard was making her daily rounds at the Tufts New England Medical Center in Boston. Her work, as part of her fellowship, was to study patients with severe physical injury in rehabilitation. It was there she met a twenty-three-year-old man named Joe.
A car accident had left Joe paralyzed from the neck down. Once active and robust, he now sat helplessly all day in a wheel-chair He couldn't slip a tape into a VCR, fix himself a sandwich, or even lift a finger to scratch a maddening itch. Like more than 100,000 other quadriplegics in the United States, Joe was completely dependent, even for his simplest and most personal needs.
It was this realization that deeply distressed Mary Joan. A woman with enormous self-initiative, she could only imagine how it felt to be trapped by total, permanent dependence. As a psychologist, she knew the emotional cost. Quadriplegics often give up on life, their spirits as paralyzed as their bodies. Mary Joan was convinced that if Joe could achieve some independence, his spirits might again soar.
Lying in bed one evening, a thought came to her-chimpanzees. Why couldn't chimps be trained to do many of the daily tasks to help someone in Joe's position?
The next day Mary Joan visited B. F. Skinner, the Harvard psychologist whose pioneering work with animals and behavior modification had made him world-famous. Mary Joan had worked as Skinner's assistant for three years and she hoped he wouldn't think her idea was crazy.
He didn't. In fact, he thought the idea had merit, but he did offer some caution. Chimps, he reminded her, become much stronger than and grow almost as big as humans. Chimps also have cranky temperaments. He suggested using capuchins instead, the little "organ grinder" monkeys that are intelligent, easy to train, and loyal to their masters. Bingo! Mary Joan was sold.
Nest, Mary Joan set out to sell others. After extensive research, she presented her idea to the director of her psychology program at Tufts University. The director almost fell out of his chair laughing. He could just see the headline: "Tufts Medical School Trains Monkeys to Take Care of Patients." Mary Joan wasn't amused and continued with her persuasive argument. Eventually she convinced him the idea was sound and he helped her get a $2,000 grant. This grant was the beginning of an organization called Helping Hands. It was not an auspicious start, but the money was enough to buy four monkeys and some cages and to hire student trainers for a dollar an hour.
Mary Joan's research indicated it would take about eight weeks to train the monkeys. Eight weeks passed and she was still trying to get them out of their cages. The first capuchins, acquired as adults, were former laboratory monkeys and were raised in isolation. Consequently, they were terrified of humans. It took two years of trial and error before Mary Joan had the first monkey ready to being work.
Despite the frustrating delays, Mary Joan and her new partner, Judi Zazula, worked tirelessly to raise needed funding. Thirty-eight grant proposals resulted in thirty-eight rejections. They were back at square one with Mary Joan working part-time as a psychologist to pay the bills.
Numerous agencies involved with severely disabled persons were interested in her idea, but all were skeptical. Some protested that it was demeaning to quadriplegics to use monkeys as helpers.
"Are Seeing Eye dogs demeaning to the blind?" she responded. Others suggested a mechanical robot would better suit the purpose.
"Can robots sit on your lap and put their arms around you?" she asked.
Other challenges facing Mary Joan and Judi involved training the monkeys to stay out of certain rooms and not get their mischievous little hands into everything. Mary Joan recalled sitting with Judi holding the latest proposal rejection on her lap and watching Hellion, their capuchin-in-training, destroy the place. She said, "Look at this place! To think they almost funded us!" and they both started laughing hysterically.
Mary Joan's patience, determination, and unwavering sense of purpose finally won out. After two years, Hellion, the first trained monkey, was ready to meet a twenty-five-year-old quadriplegic named Robert, who was alone nine hours a day. Hellion could scratch Roberts's itchy nose with a face cloth and put a tape in the VCR. She cold gently brush his hair, turn the lights on and off, put pre-packaged food in the microwave, and even bring Robert a cold drink from the refrigerator. Most important of all, Hellion could pick up Robert's mouth stick, the primary tool a quadriplegic uses for endless tasks, including dialing a telephone, starting a microwave, and turning the pages of a book. Furthermore, Hellion was a devoted companion who entertained Robert and offered unconditional affection.
So successful was the Hellion-Robert team that Mary Joan received her first major grant in 1979 from the Paralyzed Veterans of America. The grant allowed her and Judi to take small salaries, purchase needed equipment, and acquire a few young monkeys for training.
It wasn't long before requests for monkeys came from quadriplegics all across the country. Now the challenge was to find a safe, reliable source of trainable monkeys. Mary Joan and Judi could not continue to use laboratory animals or capuchins caught in the wild; they needed a breeding colony.
It was this realization that deeply distressed Mary Joan. A woman with enormous self-initiative, she could only imagine how it felt to be trapped by total, permanent dependence. As a psychologist, she knew the emotional cost. Quadriplegics often give up on life, their spirits as paralyzed as their bodies. Mary Joan was convinced that if Joe could achieve some independence, his spirits might again soar.
Lying in bed one evening, a thought came to her-chimpanzees. Why couldn't chimps be trained to do many of the daily tasks to help someone in Joe's position?
The next day Mary Joan visited B. F. Skinner, the Harvard psychologist whose pioneering work with animals and behavior modification had made him world-famous. Mary Joan had worked as Skinner's assistant for three years and she hoped he wouldn't think her idea was crazy.
He didn't. In fact, he thought the idea had merit, but he did offer some caution. Chimps, he reminded her, become much stronger than and grow almost as big as humans. Chimps also have cranky temperaments. He suggested using capuchins instead, the little "organ grinder" monkeys that are intelligent, easy to train, and loyal to their masters. Bingo! Mary Joan was sold.
Nest, Mary Joan set out to sell others. After extensive research, she presented her idea to the director of her psychology program at Tufts University. The director almost fell out of his chair laughing. He could just see the headline: "Tufts Medical School Trains Monkeys to Take Care of Patients." Mary Joan wasn't amused and continued with her persuasive argument. Eventually she convinced him the idea was sound and he helped her get a $2,000 grant. This grant was the beginning of an organization called Helping Hands. It was not an auspicious start, but the money was enough to buy four monkeys and some cages and to hire student trainers for a dollar an hour.
Mary Joan's research indicated it would take about eight weeks to train the monkeys. Eight weeks passed and she was still trying to get them out of their cages. The first capuchins, acquired as adults, were former laboratory monkeys and were raised in isolation. Consequently, they were terrified of humans. It took two years of trial and error before Mary Joan had the first monkey ready to being work.
Despite the frustrating delays, Mary Joan and her new partner, Judi Zazula, worked tirelessly to raise needed funding. Thirty-eight grant proposals resulted in thirty-eight rejections. They were back at square one with Mary Joan working part-time as a psychologist to pay the bills.
Numerous agencies involved with severely disabled persons were interested in her idea, but all were skeptical. Some protested that it was demeaning to quadriplegics to use monkeys as helpers.
"Are Seeing Eye dogs demeaning to the blind?" she responded. Others suggested a mechanical robot would better suit the purpose.
"Can robots sit on your lap and put their arms around you?" she asked.
Other challenges facing Mary Joan and Judi involved training the monkeys to stay out of certain rooms and not get their mischievous little hands into everything. Mary Joan recalled sitting with Judi holding the latest proposal rejection on her lap and watching Hellion, their capuchin-in-training, destroy the place. She said, "Look at this place! To think they almost funded us!" and they both started laughing hysterically.
Mary Joan's patience, determination, and unwavering sense of purpose finally won out. After two years, Hellion, the first trained monkey, was ready to meet a twenty-five-year-old quadriplegic named Robert, who was alone nine hours a day. Hellion could scratch Roberts's itchy nose with a face cloth and put a tape in the VCR. She cold gently brush his hair, turn the lights on and off, put pre-packaged food in the microwave, and even bring Robert a cold drink from the refrigerator. Most important of all, Hellion could pick up Robert's mouth stick, the primary tool a quadriplegic uses for endless tasks, including dialing a telephone, starting a microwave, and turning the pages of a book. Furthermore, Hellion was a devoted companion who entertained Robert and offered unconditional affection.
So successful was the Hellion-Robert team that Mary Joan received her first major grant in 1979 from the Paralyzed Veterans of America. The grant allowed her and Judi to take small salaries, purchase needed equipment, and acquire a few young monkeys for training.
It wasn't long before requests for monkeys came from quadriplegics all across the country. Now the challenge was to find a safe, reliable source of trainable monkeys. Mary Joan and Judi could not continue to use laboratory animals or capuchins caught in the wild; they needed a breeding colony.
Help came from a company that is the symbol of dreams come true-Disney. Disney World in Florida responded to Mary Joan's request and established a capuchin breeding colony on its Discovery Island, supplying Mary Joan's organization with almost all the little "helping hands" it needed. After five years, Disney World needed the space for expansion and provided the funding to move the breeding colony to a Boson zoo.
When they are six to eight weeks old, the monkeys are taken from the colony and placed in volunteer "foster homes." For the next three to five years, they learn basic skills and become comfortable living closely with humans. By the time the monkeys come to Helping Hands, they are housebroken and "cage trained" and have learned upon command to go to their "rooms" and close the door behind them. In the final twelve months of training, the capuchins learn specific skills used in working with quadriplegics, such as combing hair and handling a mouth stick.
This process may seem slow to some, but not to a visionary like Mary Joan Willard. She quickly reminds skeptics that the idea of guide dogs for the blind was debated for a hundred years before the Seeing Eye Program actually began.
By 1997, about 160 capuchins were living in the homes of volunteer families. Thirty-five quadriplegics have received their monkey helpers. Joe, who was Mary Joan's initial inspiration, regained a fair level of motion in his right arm and did not need the help of a monkey. Hundreds of other quadriplegics are not so fortunate and are still patiently waiting for the day when one of Helping Hand's remarkable little monkeys will return to them what they thought they'd lost forever – a little independence, a special form of companionship, and a little joy.
This process may seem slow to some, but not to a visionary like Mary Joan Willard. She quickly reminds skeptics that the idea of guide dogs for the blind was debated for a hundred years before the Seeing Eye Program actually began.
By 1997, about 160 capuchins were living in the homes of volunteer families. Thirty-five quadriplegics have received their monkey helpers. Joe, who was Mary Joan's initial inspiration, regained a fair level of motion in his right arm and did not need the help of a monkey. Hundreds of other quadriplegics are not so fortunate and are still patiently waiting for the day when one of Helping Hand's remarkable little monkeys will return to them what they thought they'd lost forever – a little independence, a special form of companionship, and a little joy.
"We both felt that if we did not see this through to the end, no one else would be crazy enough to do it. To give up would have been a disservice to quadriplegics and to ourselves."
-Mary Jan Willard-
Excerpted/Adapted from Unstoppable
Cynthia Kersey
-Mary Jan Willard-
Excerpted/Adapted from Unstoppable
Cynthia Kersey
This came through to my email on 2nd September 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.