Stefan Hernandez-San Martin is accustomed to dealing with injuries and recovery. It’s his job. Hernandez-San Martin, 21, is a certified nurse aide at the Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Unit at Touro Infirmary. But when his service dog, Jefe, was recently injured, it reversed the pattern of his life. Jefe could always be counted on to protect Hernandez-San Martin’s well-being. Now Hernandez-San Martin is looking out for him.
Jefe is a big, black, Catahoula-Lab mix. For five years now, Jefe has used his dog radar to help his human lead a more-or-less normal life. During a recent visit from a newspaper reporter and photographer, the dog rarely took his eyes off of Hernandez-San Martin.
Hernandez-San Martin used to get overanxious and sometimes inconsolably depressed — par for the course for those living with bipolar disorder, as the young aide does. But Jefe — whose name means “the boss”— won’t let Hernandez-San Martin’s mood swings go unchecked.
If, say, Hernandez-San Martin seems to be lolling in bed a bit longer than he ought to — like he does when he’s in a dark place — the boss pulls off the covers and nudges him until Hernandez-San Martin gets up and going.
If Hernandez-San Martin starts acting agitated, Jefe notices it and sounds the alarm, bumping into Hernandez-San Martin to remind him he might need to take his meds. If Hernandez-San Martin, for some reason, doesn’t get the message, Jefe seeks out Hernandez-San Martin’s parents and makes a fuss until they realize that something’s not right.
And if Hernandez-San Martin is in desperate distress, Jefe — who is ordinarily silent — howls. “I can genuinely say I owe him my life,” Hernandez-San Martin said.
Hernandez-San Martin got Jefe from a service dog trainer when he was just a 3-month-old pup. With time and practice, Jefe became Hernandez-San Martin’s inseparable shadow.
They go everywhere together. When Hernandez-San Martin’s family dined at ritzy Commander's Palace, Jefe hung out silently under the table. Hernandez-San Martin said diners were astonished when Jefe sauntered from under the tablecloth at the end of the meal.
Jefe hopes for more food in Metairie, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. (Staff photo by Brett Duke, The Times-Picayune)
It was all totally routine until …
Hernandez-San Martin and Jefe were together in early March when the dog hurt himself.
Hernandez-San Martin and his brother had taken Jefe to the park to get some exercise. Jefe ran around, as usual. It was all totally routine until they got home and realized that Jefe was hobbling. Hernandez-San Martin had never even heard of a dog tearing the canine equivalent of an anterior cruciate ligament. But that’s what had happened.
Funny thing, five years ago, Hernandez-San Martin tore his ACL while doing a stunt as a member of the Jesuit High School cheer team. So he knew just what Jefe was going through.
As Hernandez-San Martin explained, the vet suspected that the dog had a genetic predisposition to the injury, triggered by a high level of activity.
Hernandez-San Martin’s friends and family helped cover the $3,000 surgery to repair the boss’ torn knee ligament. But Jefe was going to have to recover for several weeks before he could get around like normal.
It couldn’t be rushed, because if Jefe doesn’t regain the full use of his leg, his overall condition could deteriorate until, one day, he might not be able to continue as an effective service animal. Which, Hernandez-San Martin said, “is not something I want to even think about.”
Stefan Hernandez-San Martin pets his service dog, Jefe, at his home in Metairie, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. (Staff photo by Brett Duke, The Times-Picayune)
Side by side
When Jefe came home from the vet, Hernandez-San Martin and his folks erected a big dog pen near the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard of their Metairie home. They bought an extra-large dog mattress for Jefe’s comfort and Hernandez-San Martin put the TV right down at dog level, so Jefe could watch “Planet Earth” and other wildlife shows.
That wasn’t all.
Hernandez-San Martin dragged his mattress down from his upstairs room and squeezed it in beside the dog pen. If Jefe had to stay cooped up by the back door, Hernandez-San Martin was staying with him. That was that. Whenever the boss needed to go outside, Stafan was there to take him, using a padded strap to keep the dog's weight off his damaged leg.
And if Jefe seemed to need a little extra reassurance, Hernandez-San Martin climbed into the pen with him where they could fall asleep side-by-side. Fair’s fair. A faithful, injured service dog certainly deserves his own service person. Everything had switched. Now, Hernandez-San Martin was keeping a constant eye on Jefe, as the big dog began to mend.
Stefan Hernandez-San Martin gives his service dog, Jefe, some food at his home in Metairie, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. (Staff photo by Brett Duke, The Times-Picayune)
A new calling
Nobody was more suited for the task than Hernandez-San Martin, of course. He routinely aids human patients as they come back from everything from gunshot wounds to strokes.
Hernandez-San Martin says he truly loves his job. He helps the hospital patients eat, brush their teeth, bathe, get from place to place, and all of those simple things that they can’t do for themselves at the moment. “I’m basically the hands and legs for my patients,” he said.
Hernandez-San Martin has had a long relationship with the Touro Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Unit. When he was 7 or 8 years old, his grandfather was paralyzed from the waist down by a sort of cancer that affected his spinal cord. He spent eight months at the facility. During Hernandez-San Martin’s visits to see his grandfather, he came to appreciate the kindness and devotion he witnessed in the staff.
Fast forward several years and the fond memory of the facility was still vivid in Hernandez-San Martin’s mind. Though he’d always hoped to make a living as a musical performer and producer, after high school Hernandez-San Martin suddenly realized he had a new calling.
He studied for his nurse aid certificate at Delgado Community College and applied for a job at the same place his grandfather had convalesced.
But from the very beginning of his medical career, he and Jefe were a package deal. Jefe was the reason he could confidently stride into the real world. The dog had been by his side throughout his studies at Delgado and when he went to interview at Touro.
The hospital managers just had to understand how important Jefe was.
And they did.
Stefan Hernandez-San Martin pets his service dog, Jefe, at his home in Metairie, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. (Staff photo by Brett Duke, The Times-Picayune)
A sense of clarity and peace
Sure, it was unusual, but Sarah Reynolds, the director of the Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Unit, said that the Hernandez-San Martin and Jefe combo turned out to be a good fit. In fact, she said, “it’s one of the best decisions we’ve made.”
It’s always up to the patient whether Jefe comes into their room along with Hernandez-San Martin, Reynolds said. If they’re cool with it, great. If not, Jefe hangs outside, near the door. Most patients seem happy to have a four-legged staff member around.
“The patients and families see Hernandez-San Martin treating Jefe with kindness and respect, and it reassures them and makes them feel welcome,” Reynolds said. Also, Reynolds said, spinal injury patients’ “futures can be a little scary” and “the team of Hernandez-San Martin and the dog bring a lot of joy.”
In fact, having a big, well-behaved dog around seems to bring a little joy to everyone involved. The staff, Reynolds said, doesn’t mind getting “a few minutes of pet time” here and there.
Jefe has become part of the Touro team. He has his own ID badge, with his photo on it. He and Hernandez-San Martin work 12-hour shifts, right alongside everybody else. The hospital ward “gives me a sense of clarity and peace,” Hernandez-San Martin said.
Stefan Hernandez-San Martin takes Jefe outside to use the bathroom in Metairie, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. (Staff photo by Brett Duke, The Times-Picayune)
It's kind of full circle
Hernandez-San Martin has returned to work part-time. Unfortunately, with Jefe sidelined, he has to go it alone. “It’s weird to go into work without him,” Hernandez-San Martin said, because “in five years, I’ve almost never been without him.”
Hernandez-San Martin said his co-workers immediately appreciated his situation. Several have told him “if you feel overwhelmed, let us know.”
“Having those people beside me has helped,” he said.
The whole situation could seem ironic, but that isn’t exactly the right word. Because it all seems more harmonious than dissonant. One way or another, everybody seems to be trying to help somebody get along. “Yeah,” Reynolds said, “it’s kind of full circle.”
Hernandez-San Martin said that when he gets home from work, Jefe is obviously happy to see him. So much so, the dog seems to forget all about the pain in his leg. In Hernandez-San Martin ’s mind, Jefe’s joy is based on his ability to go back on duty.
As Hernandez-San Martin put it, Jefe seems to be saying, “He’s back home. Now I can take care of him again.”
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