I am a terminal cancer patient at Warragul Hospital, where I have been receiving chemotherapy every three weeks since August 2022 to help keep me alive.

On 3 September 2025, while waiting for my treatment, three staff members brought a dog into the chemotherapy ward as part of a new “pet therapy” idea. Patients were not asked for approval, and there was no discussion about infection risk, safety, or how to opt out. The hospital later used photos from that day to promote how they “support chemo patients.”

I believe this approach breached basic patient rights around consent, safety, and respect.

The dog visit took place while my husband and I were waiting in the chemo ward. When asked what we thought about it, we both said no — but the dog was brought in anyway. No patients were told beforehand. I saw the dog jump around and even be placed on a patient’s lap, very close to a cannula and tubing. I was relieved when they moved away from my treatment area.

Later, I found that a pet-therapy organisation had announced the visit on social media two days earlier — yet no patients had been informed.

I woke up feeling extremely anxious. How could a dog be placed on a patient’s lap in a highly sanitised chemo environment? I searched for information online and discovered that:

Best practice recommends that therapy animals be part of an opt-in program, held in a separate area for interested patients. That didn’t happen here.

As someone with radiation burns on my lungs and breathing side effects from chemotherapy, infection is something I want to avoid. I am also concerned about the risk of tripping over a dog since I have holes in all my bones, and if I fall, I break. This added to my stress.

Even though I avoid stress to protect my health, I felt I had to raise my concerns, so the hospital understood the emotional impact their new “therapy” was having on me.

I emailed my concern to the hospital’s feedback address and received a reply from a coordinator who even addressed me by the wrong name. My husband emailed to correct this, but there was no follow-up.

Soon after, the pet-therapy organisation posted new promotional material, including an ID badge that wasn’t worn during the visit. On 23 September, the hospital posted a Facebook photo showing the dog jumping on a patient.

The next day, 24 September, when I went in for chemo, a staff member congratulated me for submitting a complaint — clearly showing that my private email had been shared. She told me the program was on hold “for now,” but that it would likely return.

Feeling exposed and anxious, I decided on the spot to cancel my next treatment — a decision I did not take lightly. In three years, I had only ever rescheduled chemo with my doctor’s approval.

Four weeks later, I finally received a response from the hospital. The letter listed incorrect dates, claimed a “full risk assessment” had been completed (though none shared), and told me I could “schedule chemo around the dog’s roster.” Neither the risk assessment nor the roster was attached.

I emailed back immediately, asking, “Are you saying I have to schedule my life-saving treatment around a dog? You’ve got to be joking!” — my email was ignored.

I then filed a Freedom of Information (FOI) request asking who approved the therapy and what risk assessments existed. I also notified the Health Complaints Commissioner (HCC) because the hospital was not addressing my concerns.

On 9 October, I met with my GP to discuss the stress this situation was causing. She wrote to my oncologist explaining my distress and that I had cancelled treatment. I heard nothing back.

I then emailed the hospital CEO to advise that I had contacted the HCC.

By 15 October, the HCC advised that they had to wait 30 days for the hospital’s internal process — even though more than 30 days had already passed.

The CEO sent me a formal letter instructing me not to speak with staff or volunteers about my complaint “to protect their mental health.” This felt deeply unfair when my own wellbeing had been ignored.

I responded, outlining that the issue was still unresolved and causing significant stress.

My FOI request was refused on the basis that the material “formed part of a complaint,” which appears inconsistent with the FOI Act. I appealed for an internal review, citing relevant sections of the Act that protect a patient’s right to access information about their own care.

It is now over 8 weeks, and still no one has talked to me, about my concerns plus now I feel bullied too. I decided to lodge a second formal complaint against the CEO, explaining that the previous response felt intimidating and that my concerns remained unaddressed.

As a patient, I expect empathy and open discussion — not dismissal or blame.

I spoke with my oncologist, who said she was not involved in the decision to introduce the dog therapy. I questioned how a treatment could be added to my environment without her approval or patient consent.

She did not ask about my emotional wellbeing, instead, she offered to transfer me to another hospital for treatment.

When I returned to Warragul Hospital for chemotherapy on 5 November, I spoke with my McGrath nurse and the Head Nurse. The Head Nurse explained that the dog’s first visit was “to see if the dog could cope in the ward,” confirming that no consideration had been given to how patients might react.

She provided a brochure she said was now given to patients. However, it was a general public pamphlet from South Australia about animal contact at a petting zoo — clearly designed for children and pregnant women, not immunocompromised cancer patients.

Between 11am and 12pm, a simple printed roster for dog visits appeared at reception.

It has now been nine weeks since this began.

Most of you know I’ve been living with terminal cancer for over three years. What you may not know is that the past nine weeks have been incredibly stressful because my “safe” chemo space no longer feels safe.

While therapy dogs can be wonderful in the right context, in a chemotherapy ward — without consent, clear safety measures, or proper consultation — it created distress instead of comfort. The only trials so far for pet therapy are for those that want to participate (animal lovers) and these are averaging a 10% infection rate with a 20% feel good rate!

By law and by compassion, patients deserve to be informed and given a choice before any new therapy is introduced.

I’ve raised these issues formally with the Health Complaints Commissioner, to ensure that all patients — especially those who are vulnerable — are treated with respect, care, and transparency.