Oscar the Cat predicts deaths at nursing home
Charlene
PROVIDENCE, R.I. (AP) -- Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack
for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling
up next to them during their final hours. His accuracy, observed in 25
cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen
someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.
''He doesn't make too many mistakes. He seems to understand when
patients are about to die,'' said Dr. David Dosa in an interview. He
describes the phenomenon in a poignant essay in Thursday's issue of
the New England Journal of Medicine.
''Many family members take some solace from it. They appreciate the
companionship that the cat provides for their dying loved one,'' said
Dosa, a geriatrician and assistant professor of medicine at Brown
University.
The 2-year-old feline was adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-
floor dementia unit at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation
Center. The facility treats people with Alzheimer's, Parkinson's
disease and other illnesses.
After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own
rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He'd sniff and observe
patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few
hours.
Dosa said Oscar seems to take his work seriously and is generally
aloof. ''This is not a cat that's friendly to people,'' he said.
Oscar is better at predicting death than the people who work there,
said Dr. Joan Teno of Brown University, who treats patients at the
nursing home and is an expert on care for the terminally ill
She was convinced of Oscar's talent when he made his 13th correct
call. While observing one patient, Teno said she noticed the woman
wasn't eating, was breathing with difficulty and that her legs had a
bluish tinge, signs that often mean death is near.
Oscar wouldn't stay inside the room though, so Teno thought his streak
was broken. Instead, it turned out the doctor's prediction was roughly
10 hours too early. Sure enough, during the patient's final two hours,
nurses told Teno that Oscar joined the woman at her bedside.
Doctors say most of the people who get a visit from the sweet-faced,
gray-and-white cat are so ill they probably don't know he's there, so
patients aren't aware he's a harbinger of death. Most families are
grateful for the advanced warning, although one wanted Oscar out of
the room while a family member died. When Oscar is put outside, he
paces and meows his displeasure.
No one's certain if Oscar's behavior is scientifically significant or
points to a cause. Teno wonders if the cat notices telltale scents or
reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him.
Nicholas Dodman, who directs an animal behavioral clinic at the Tufts
University Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine and has read Dosa's
article, said the only way to know is to carefully document how Oscar
divides his time between the living and dying.
If Oscar really is a furry grim reaper, it's also possible his
behavior could be driven by self-centered pleasures like a heated
blanket placed on a dying person, Dodman said.
Nursing home staffers aren't concerned with explaining Oscar, so long
as he gives families a better chance at saying goodbye to the dying.
Oscar recently received a wall plaque publicly commending his
''compassionate hospice care.''
------
Science writer Alicia Chang in Los Angeles contributed to this report.
------
On the Net:
New England Journal of Medicine: http://content.nejm.org/
MGW
--
MGW
I have yet to see a problem, however complicated, which when you looked at
it in the right way, did not become still more complicated. ~ Poul Anderson
Bill Schenley
Also ...
A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat
By Dr. David M Dosa, M.D., M.P.H.
Oscar the Cat awakens from his nap, opening a single
eye to survey his kingdom. From atop the desk in the
doctor's charting area, the cat peers down the two
wings of the nursing home's advanced dementia unit.
All quiet on the western and eastern fronts.. Slowly, he
rises and extravagantly stretches his 2-year old frame,
first backward and then forward. He sits up and
considers his next move.
In the distance, a resident approaches. It is Mr. P., who
has been living on the dementia unit's third floor for 3
years now. She has long forgotten her family, even
though they visit her almost daily. Moderately
disheveled after eating her lunch, half of which she now
wears on her shirt, Mrs. P. is taking one of many aimless
strolls to nowhere. She glides toward Oscar, pushing
her walker and muttering to herself with complete
disregard for her surroundings. Perturbed, Oscar
watches her carefully and, as she walks by, lets out a
gentle hiss, a rattlesnake-like warning that say, " leave
me alone." She passes him without a glance and
continues down the hallway. Oscar is relieved. It is not
yet Mrs. P's time and he wants nothing to do with her.
Oscar jumps down off the desk, relieved to be once
more alone and in control of his domain. He takes a
few moments to drink from his water bowl and grab a
quick bite. Satisfied, he enjoys another stretch and
sets out on his rounds. Oscar decides to head down
the west sing first, along the way side stepping Mr. S.,
who is slumped over a couch in the hallway. With lips
slightly pursed, he snores peacefully-- perhaps blissfully
unaware of where is now living.
Oscar continues down the hallway until he reaches its
end and room 310. The door is closed, so Oscar sits
and waits. He has important business here.
Twenty-five minutes later, the door finally opens and
out walks a nurses's aide carrying dirty lines. "Hello,
Oscar," she says. " Are you going inside?" Oscar lets
her pass, then makes his way into the room, where there
are two people. Lying in a corner bed and facing the
wall, Mrs. T. is asleep in a fetal position. Her body is
thin and wasted from the breast cancer that has been
eating away at her organs. She is mildly jaundiced and
has not spoken in several days. Sitting next to her is her
daughter, who glances up from her novel to warmly greet
the visitor. " Hello, Oscar. How are you today?"
Oscar take no notice of the woman and leaps up onto her
bed. He surveys Mrs. T. She is clearly in the terminal
phase of illness and her breathing is labored. Oscar's
examination is interrupted by a nurse, who walks in to ask
the daughter weather Mrs. T is unconfortable and needs
more morphine. The daughter shakes her head and the
nurse retreats. Oscar returns to his work. He sniffs the air,
gives Mrs. T. one finally look, then jumps off the bed and
quickly leaves the room. Not today.
Making his way back up the hallway, Oscar arrives at
Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside.
Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing
steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of
her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite
these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed
and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation,
and then turns around twice before curling up besides
Mrs. K.
One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the
room to check on her patient. She pauses to note
Oscar's presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the
room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.'s chart
off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone
calls.
Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are
brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil.
The priest is c`called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar
has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling
Mrs. K. A young grandson ask his mother, " What is the
cat doing here?" The mother, fighting back tears, tells
him, " he is here to help grandma get to heaven." Thirty
minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With
this, Oscar sits up, looks around then departs the room so
quietly that the grieving family barely notices.
On his way back to the charting area, Oscar passes a
plaque mounted on the wall. On it is an engraved
commendation from a local hospice agency:
" For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque
is awarded to Oscar the Cat"
Oscar takes a quick drink of water and returns to his desk
to curl up for a long rest. His day's work is done. There
will be no more deaths today, not in Room 310 or in any
other room for that matter. After all, no one dies on the
third floor unless Oscar pays a visit and stays a while.
David Carson
>gray-and-white cat are so ill they probably don't know he's there, so
>patients aren't aware he's a harbinger of death. Most families are
>grateful for the advanced warning, although one wanted Oscar out of
>the room while a family member died. When Oscar is put outside, he
>paces and meows his displeasure.
"Let me back iiii-nnn ... must finish ... stealing her sooo-ulll."
Seriously, that story is one of the most fascinating things I've ever
read.
There must be some way to make money off of that cat.
Ron
For starters, let's hope he's not been fixed.
Bob Feigel
<charlene...@gmail.com> magnanimously proffered:
>
>PROVIDENCE, R.I. (AP) -- Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack
>for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling
>up next to them during their final hours. His accuracy, observed in 25
>cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen
>someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.
Then again, it could turn out the cat is carrying some fast-acting
fatal disease ...
--
"It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens." - Woody Allen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wax-up and drop-in of Surfing's Golden Years: <http://www.surfwriter.net>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John M.
Hey, I guess I'd succumb to blackmail to keep it away. Maybe quite a few people
would. :-)
--
John M.
David Carson
>No one's certain if Oscar's behavior is scientifically significant or
>points to a cause. Teno wonders if the cat notices telltale scents or
>reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him.
[snip]
>If Oscar really is a furry grim reaper, it's also possible his
>behavior could be driven by self-centered pleasures like a heated
>blanket placed on a dying person, Dodman said.
It occurs to me that, knowing how cats are, it could well be the case that
every cat in the world has always had this ability ... Oscar is just the
first one who felt inclined to use it.
Gyu...@aol.com
> got the publicity?
> Pre-Internet days, obviously.
They had a story on the news last night here in Seattle about another
nursing home cat that can do this.
Video:
http://q13.trb.com/
Text story:
http://q13.trb.com/news/kcpq-072607-deathcat,0,6442887.story
Makes you wonder if the cats killing babies urban legend (http://
www.snopes.com/critters/wild/catsuck.asp) may also be part of this
phenomenon. The cat sensed the baby would die of SIDS and climbed
into crib with baby, baby dies, cat is blamed.
R H Draney
>
>> How do you *know* there weren't other cats who used it but never
>> got the publicity?
>> Pre-Internet days, obviously.
>
>They had a story on the news last night here in Seattle about another
>nursing home cat that can do this.
That's why they call them "copycats", I guess....r
--
"You got Schadenfreude on my Weltanschauung!"
"You got Weltanschauung in my Schadenfreude!"
teleflora
"Bob Feigel" <b...@surfwriter.net.not> wrote in message
news:q5dga3du6qfh20rc0...@4ax.com...
>
> Then again, it could turn out the cat is carrying some fast-acting
> fatal disease ...
>
<snorphl>
hehehehheheh
Cindy
Andre Marek
feeling much better!" when they see Oscar come in. Ha!
SlobbyDon
news:13anshg...@corp.supernews.com:
That probably would not have fazed Oscar. He would likely have
tagged along with the "Bring out your dead!" gang on Monty Python.
"I'm feeling much better now!" PLONK!
--
SlobbyDon
DGH
For anybody who is interested, the original article can be fourd at:
http://content.nejm.org/cgi/reprint/357/4/328.pdf
One might need a password to access the article.