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Worth Their Weight in Gold

Denise Flaim | Animal House

July 16, 2002

In 1997, Deb Rogstad pulled over at a rest stop in Missouri with Quaid, her 3-year-old collie. The two were returning home to Denton, Texas, completing what would turn out to be a 2,000-mile trip to Indiana and back.

"Neat!" commented a teenage passerby as she surveyed the dog's shaved, scabbed back - what Rogstad describes as a reverse Mohawk with polka dots.

Today, Rogstad couldn't agree with that exuberant assessment more completely.

Quaid was born severely epileptic, having seizures more days than not, even while on strong anticonvulsants. He could barely walk, much less run, and was so disoriented he would walk into walls.

In desperation, Rogstad took Quaid to Terry Durkes of Marion, Ind., a vet who in 1975 developed a technique called gold-bead implants. A sort of permanent form of acupuncture, the pin-head- sized beads are inserted via syringe at key acupuncture points while the dog is anesthetized.

Quaid received implants at 19 points on his skull and 30 along his spine.

The procedure, Rogstad says, was a "lifesaver." Quaid is now what she calls a "normal epileptic," seizing only occasionally on minimal medication. The dog who was so beyond hope that Rogstad considered euthanizing him recently celebrated his 8th birthday.

As traditional veterinarians explore new treatment options, acupuncture - the ancient Chinese system of stimulating points along the body with fine needles to treat disease and promote well-being - has become an increasingly accepted part of their repertoire. But permanent implants like the kind Durkes does are still a rarity.

Edward Boldt, executive director of the International Veterinary Acupuncture Society in Fort Collins, Colo., says that because gold- bead implantation is so highly specialized, IVAS no longer teaches it as as part of its basic curriculum for vets who want to be certified in acupuncture; now they must seek it out as continuing education. As a result, Boldt can't say how many vets nationwide perform the procedure. For his part, Durkes estimates he has done several thousand and has taught the technique to about 100 vets.

Durkes uses the implants primarily for chronic conditions such as hip dysplasia (he claims a 98 percent success rate with dogs younger than 7, and 75 percent for 7- to 12-year-olds); spondylosis of the back; arthritis of the shoulder, elbow and knee, and osteochondritis. Neurological dysfunctions such as epilepsy and Wobbler's syndrome (lameness caused by pressure on the spinal cord, a condition prevalent in Dobermans and Danes) are more difficult to treat and have a lower success rate because the network of acupuncture points is more complex.

"We usually use three to four beads at one point," says Durkes, adding that the biggest risk is the same as any other surgery - complications from anesthesia. "As as far as implants themselves and accidentally getting one into the joint, I've only had that happen once" in more than a quarter-century, he says.

While some vets use 24-karat gold wire for the implants, Durkes worries that it might migrate; he prefers gold-plated beads. Though he can't say precisely how the implants work, Durkes theorizes that the gold's "slightly positive charge" neutralizes negative conditions, and can change the pH of the nerve receptor sites in a joint.

Donna Kelleher of Seattle, Wash., who trained with Durkes in 1993, does about three procedures a month. She uses the implants mostly on dogs, though she has used them for epilepsy in cats and hopes to try them one day on birds.

There are some caveats to gold- bead implants, she points out: They should be avoided in animals that have cancer, tumors or bone infections, as they will accelerate the progress of those conditions. And they should be reserved for chronic conditions that are not immediately life-threatening.

"If someone really needed surgery and decided to do gold bead instead, that would be a mistake," she cautions, adding that results from the implants should be seen within a month. And "like anything in life," Durkes adds, results depend on the individual.

But while Rogstad concurs that one's mileage may vary, she never regrets having taken the trip.