A Matter of Touch
We bring our babies into this world and immediately cradle their tiny body skin to skin. The bonding of parent and child begins immediately. It is recognized as important for physical, emotional and mental development of a new being.
We teach our children to love through the sacred beauty of touch, but also to be wary of when touch is not in their best interest.
We hold them when they sleep on our chest or in the crook of our arm. We gently stroke their face, memorizing every bit with our fingers…clinging to the hope that one day the sensation and image of innocence will be embedded as an indelible memory in the deep recesses of our minds.
They leave their toddler bed and quietly sneak into our bed when we are deep in slumber. Nothing is more precious than waking up and finding a sleeping toddler curled up beside you in the morning.
Eventually, discussions will occur why it is time to stay in your ‘big boy/big girl bed’ because that’s what self-soothing is all about….learning to be without human touch or contact for short periods of time.
We count the hours that they sit on our lap reading the same book over and over again, until they fall asleep.
We hold their hand and walk them to the Kindergarten door, and assure them it is ok to spend the day with others to begin their educational journey. Soon enough, as they grow they will learn the confidence that they may not wish to hold our hand or hug us in public, but when we are in the safe space of our home, they return willingly for affection and love.
We comfort them through middle school when their hormones are raging, but yet they find physical affection repulsive and disgusting. By high school, they again begin to consider that aspect and are eager to have a love interest.
If we are lucky they grow into human beings who continue to love and respect us.
They give back what they were given.
They seek love and affection just as they did as infants and toddlers.
They become unafraid to touch others.
Hugs become an expression of deep friendship and love.
In March of 2020, that all changed. Touch suddenly became a potential danger. We were advised to keep our distance from one another, and to shelter in place. A whole new list of rules became the new norm.
We had to stop social gatherings.
We were told to stay home.
Schools, churches, stadiums, colleges all closed. Vacations were canceled.
Hand sanitizers, gloves and masks became part of our daily lives.
Our hospitals and nursing homes went on lock down.
Babies have been born without mothers having their significant other present.
Patients went to the hospital and were met at the front door, and families were refused entry.
Critical decisions about life and death have been made over Face time.
So many people died alone, never to see their family member again. They died holding the hand of a nurse.
No one should have to say their goodbyes over Face time.
We should be held by those we’ve loved and trusted. We should feel the warmth of their skin, feel their breath on our cheeks as we say goodbye.
I work as an IV home care nurse. Two years ago, after 42 years in Critical Care, I decided that it was time for me to leave acute care and consider what my retirement job would be. I manage 12–15 patients in a month where I visit their homes to infuse immune globulin. My patient population is immunocompromised due to their particular diagnosis. Home care is the best of both worlds. A few of my patients have been with me for almost two years. Some are seen once a month, some twice a month, and there is one who I see weekly.
This is a different type of nursing because unlike the hospital, the boundaries of professionalism become blurred. There becomes a bond of friendship with these patients and their families, as they welcome you into the sacred space of their home.
You become a part of their circle. You meet and chat with friends and families members who visit during their infusion time. You celebrate their milestones, birthdays and happy times. You comfort them when they encounter tragedy, death of friends and family members, an argument with a spouse, or struggle with their latest health crisis.
They share mugs of coffee, plates of pasta and remember your birthday.
They send home plates of cookies at Christmas.
You let their dog out when they need to go pee. Sometimes you clean up the pee when the patient has enough physical struggles that makes it harder for them to accomplish the task for their furry companion. You willingly share the love you have for your patient with whatever fur baby they love. Their fur baby becomes an extension of the patient, so how could you not love them?
You start storing dog treats in your car for when you visit your patients, knowing the excitement their dog has when they see you walk up to their gate.
You bring treats and donuts and coffee and flowers you know the patient will like.
You stop for coffee at Wawa, and decide to bring them their favorite breakfast sandwich. For some, coffee at Dunkin is a treat because you know that they live on a fixed income and can’t afford it.
That’s what people who love people do for each other.
For some of these patients, their isolation is profound. I may be the only person that they see, because their state of health is fragile, and possible exposure to Covid 19 could be deadly. They are fearful to venture outside the confines of their home. Much needed in person doctor appointments were canceled, and in a few cases I intervened by helping them do telemedicine visits by setting it up for them on their computer so that they could speak to their provider.
Our relationship has changed.
Touch has become prohibitive. I wear PPE when starting their IV and initiating their infusion. We remain apart while I’m in their home to minimize any possible exposure that I could unwittingly bring into their home.
Worst of all, the hugs that were given so freely in the past are now just spoken about as we greet each other or when I say goodbye. A few will stand in the next room as I depart and say ‘See you next time….you know I love you….’ In the past we would just hug. It just isn’t the same.
I don’t know who misses it more….me, or my patients.
And every time I leave, I hear the same refrain.
‘Be safe’. It’s our new parting statement now, and another way of ‘I love you’.
Now more than ever, we crave the very thing that is forbidden……the power of human touch.
There has been more than one time that I retreat to my car after a visit and cry as I drive to my next stop. Looking at the isolation that they experience when I leave is difficult for me to imagine. Every situation in every home is different. Not everyone talks about the isolation or struggle that they are having.
I’m lucky I get to come home to my husband, daughter and cats.
What they don’t know is that each one of them is what keeps me shuffling onward on any given day. My service to others teaches me that my life is not so bad. I get to drive in my car any hour of the day or night because I am an essential worker in a pandemic. I can spend time with them and leave my house while others are home bound. It’s a great way to focus on a daily dose of gratitude.
There were times in my life where I was greatly isolated from others, or without a love relationship. The most painful instance was the three years after my ex-husband’s departure. There was profound grieving for the physical closeness of another adult human being, especially one that I had come to trust and love. The lack of touch left me ravenous inside. At one point, I thought I’d never be physically connected again to another adult. It was a horrible feeling.
What I know is this.
The world has been turned upside down.
Our hearts are ravenous…for touch.
We want to touch, and love, and hug friends, families, and even people who piss us off on a routine basis.
We want it all to be better. We want it all to just go away, and wake up from this bad dream.
As restrictions are lifted, there are people who want to throw caution to the wind because the need for closeness is so strong. We know we can’t do that, but the temptation is so powerful. The basic feelings that were created in infancy still drive us to seek the sense of touching another person’s skin…through the gentle touch of a hand or a hug.
We want to touch and love each other in a world that has been broken.
We want to crazy glue our broken hearts back together in a world where 100,000 Americans have passed despite our best efforts to save them.
We just can’t sew it back together.
Cement is too messy.
A stapler won’t work.
We can’t just wall off our hearts and ignore what we feel. After all, we know that a wall has become a symbol of our divide.
There is no immediate solution to the ache we all feel inside. Acknowledge the ache.
Whatever you feel, know that most everyone feels the same. That’s what makes us human.
In the meantime, use your voice. Reach out to those you ache for. Write a letter and tell them how much you miss them. Check in with those who are isolated, afraid, alone, or struggling with anxiety or depression. Many will not speak openly about the struggle.
We have to find a new way to touch each other. For now, staying physically distant doesn’t mean we can’t feel close.
We will discover other ways to maintain the bonds of friendship and love through our memory of what once was….and keep our hope for a better future.
