Healing pet 'chi'

Alternative medicine has been used to treat animals and humans in Korea for 5,000 years. Now Minnesota pets get their turn, thanks to Dr. Keum Hwa Choi.

When Dr. Keum Hwa Choi lobbied for and helped start an Oriental medicine practice for pets at the University of Minnesota's Veterinary Medical Center five years ago, her dean gave it six months, she said.

Behind her back, other veterinarians called her "Dr. Witch" and referred only animals that they considered lost causes -- those with late-stage cancer, inoperable skeletal problems and organ failure.

Choi understood. Trained in scientific Western medicine, she once was a skeptic who opposed Oriental medicine (she prefers "Oriental" to "Asian") as "strange, not scientific, kind of shamanism."

But within months of starting the Complementary and Alternative Medicine service at the University's Small Animal Clinic in St. Paul, Choi had a full appointment book. One of her early patients, Roscoe, a 12-year-old boxer, had advanced nasal cancer and had been given six months to live. Choi tailored a series of herbal remedies for him. Four years later, Roscoe is still alive.

Today Choi, 53, and her colleagues treat 2,000 pets a year with acupuncture, diet and an apothecary of herbs with names such as Rising Courage Tea, while she supervises veterinary med students on two-week Oriental medicine rotations.

Choi is part of a growing national trend to treat animals with alternative therapies, a push that has come in the past decade from veterinary students and pet owners, many of whom have benefitted from ancient therapies that remain controversial, says Dr. Jeffrey Klausner, dean of the university's College of Veterinary Medicine.

"Some [veterinarians] think it's total hooey because there hasn't been as much science behind it. Others are great believers. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle," Klausner said. He said he believes that the university, with its emphasis on research and discussion, is the ideal place to sort out best practices.

"Her department is so busy it's taken on a life of its own," said Dr. Pierce Fleming, past president of the Minnesota Veterinary Medical Association. Choi, who continues to treat the most difficult cancers and organ failure, is among this area's most gifted and respected veterinary specialists, he said.

"It's a whole different way of looking at the world," said Fleming, a certified acupuncturist and animal chiropractor who practices at Plymouth Heights Pet Hospital in New Hope. "Most problems are considered unbalanced chi, or energy in the body. Acupuncture is used to correct or balance your system. There is an energy there, however you want to define it. Is it nerves? Is it chi? Regardless, you can touch it and change it."

Besides her passion, Choi brings to her work a doctorate and a master's degree in veterinary microbiology and pathobiology, as well as extensive training in Korea, China and the United States.

"Oriental medicine is not invasive. So it's way more pleasant for animals," says Brent Gisslen of Robbinsdale, who receives treatment for himself in Choi's private human practice as well as veterinary care for his cats.

His 11-year-old cat, Monique, is so nervous at most vets' offices that Gisslen has to pry her from her carrier. "She's all legs -- like in the cartoons." But in Choi's office, she steps out of her crate, settling herself primly on the mat.

Choi has a softly penetrating gaze and a soothing demeanor that permeates her examining room. She takes small dogs and cats in her arms, feeling for the places in their bodies that are hurting. "They feel my heart. I feel their heart. Then I start to diagnose."

Becoming a believer

Choi was born into a Korean family of Western-trained doctors and veterinarians who were disdainful of ancient acupuncture and healing techniques. But still her father, who treated chickens, horses, sheep, pigs, even fish, expected her to communicate with her animal patients. Choi was puzzled and frustrated: She had been trained to rely on drugs, surgery and scientific research. She came to understand that without compassion, she could not heal.

Her belief in acupuncture came at age 25 after she was treated for a badly swollen knee that Western medicine failed to cure. At first she was furious when the acupuncturist applied needles to the unaffected knee. The next morning she started walking normally before realizing that the pain and swelling were gone.

"I thought, 'If this works for humans, why don't we use this for animals?' "

Getting the big picture

Choi doesn't touch her patients right away. Instead, she watches intently as Mystic, a 10-year-old boxer, lurches into her examining room dragging her hind legs, which twist and slide out of control. Wearily, the dog drops onto Choi's padded floor mat, legs akimbo.

"The body never lies," Choi says. "Sometimes the back protrudes more. Sometimes it is very straight. I look at how she behaves today -- more panting, eyes redder. Or I smell. Why today the smell is not really good, like a fishy smell? Just looking, you get tons of information."

While paging through the dog's thick medical file, Choi asks owner Beth Mikolichek a detailed series of questions about Mystic's appetite, sleep, elimination and behavior. Then she eases next to the dog, comforting her with soothing pats and patter: "Ca-ca-ca. I know. I see."

Mystic's lower back has been deteriorating for a year, pinching a nerve that should stimulate the muscles in her left leg to move, Mikolichek says. "She's embarrassed that she can't do what she used to do. She runs down the stairs and then takes a tumble."

Clients in Mikolichek's Lakeville pet grooming business, Canine Cleaners, recommended acupuncture. Mikolichek has been taking Mystic in every two weeks since September. "She's a totally different dog after each treatment," able to climb stairs and walk around their Farmington home and yard, Mikolichek says. But the dog relapsed after they missed her last appointment.

Choi examines Mystic's tongue and the pulse in her femoral artery, then inserts acupuncture needles attached to electrodes in key points in the dog's back and legs. Mystic falls asleep, snoring, her muzzle in Mikolichek's lap.

Just as there are acupuncture charts for humans, there are corresponding charts for dogs, horses and cats. Choi says there are many theories to explain why acupuncture works -- stimulating the immune system, aiding circulation, boosting hormones that help the body to deal with injury and to block pain signals.

But herbs and diet are equally important, if not more so, in treating all kinds of pet illnesses: arthritis, lameness, diabetes, kidney stones, skin problems, allergies, constipation, lack of appetite and cancer, Choi says. There are so many possible combinations of powerful herbs that Choi becomes agitated when seeking the right one. "Sometimes I just go home and cry, especially with cancer patients when I prescribe the herbs. I spend days and days thinking until I say, 'Yes! This is the one!' "

Choi concludes Mystic's 40-minute visit with therapeutic massage, a new herbal prescription, an affectionate pat and a dog biscuit.

"I cannot make dog to puppy," Choi says, meaning she's no miracle worker. Still, the changes are evident.

Mystic rises from the mat, trying out legs that now stay planted beneath her, and walks out the door with an old dog's dignity.

http://www.startribune.com/1244/story/925141.html