A Hospice Angel=
Touch is our original communication. It is the way we define boundaries and cultivate relationship to the world around us. Touch is the physical expression of our inner connectedness and it assures us that we are being felt and seen. Touch is not an option. It is an organic need as is food and water .
In health care as well as massage therapy over and over again I hear about clients and patients who are reprimanded for touching the professional without reflection or understanding to the depth of this multi-level topic . I fully understand a professional’s limitations and boundaries, however I hear a very one sided conversation and seriously limited reactions from those who have experienced a touch in return.
In my field the person I am touching may have no other means of communication; no other way to assume they have been heard or felt. They are touched and turned this way and that way all day long and to not be able to touch back is cruel and can be emotionally wounding. The need to touch back becomes a point of shame.
There are so many stories in regards to this topic that are going around in my head right now but it’s this blog piece from 2012 that resonates as the rainbow so often a professional never allows themselves to experience. So it is.
“It seemed as usual, walking down the long corridor in the inpatient hospice unit on Sunday.
I knew however, that for the two Everflowing interns with me, it was not familiar. I was giving an orientation for our clinical practice and this was our first walk through the hospice unit. I sensed the impact of this long corridor.
Passing through the men’s area, I noticed a slight Asian woman with a nursing assistant coming our way from the women’s area, at the other end of the unit. We kept walking. She kept walking towards us. As the woman approached I noticed her expression change from curiosity to acceptance.
Then, when we were only a couple of feet away from each other the woman stretched out her arms to me. Her face was open and inviting. I stopped walking. Our eyes met in soft recognition of our humanness and I responded with out stretched arms as well.
With obvious respect, she took one of my arms in her hands, stroked down the arm slowly, and looking into my eyes, took my hand and and guiding it slowly, gently stroked the side of her face. “ Thank you,” I said. “Thank you,” she replied. .
Reaching out, she then silently offered to hold one of the interns hands for a moment, and thank you’s were expressed.
Approaching the second intern, the woman stood on her tip-toes and stroked the interns shoulder and across his chest. She was beaming with care and tenderness.
After all thank you’s were expressed this angel of the hospice continued her journey to the kitchen.
We were left standing in the center of this corridor softened with gratitude. Our orientation had been transformed. Our hearts were full and our spirits light.
A simple caring gesture of touch; a glance into the eyes of an intimate contact with no attachment; no planned intention to fix, change, heal or correct anything, had changed every thing.
Blessings Irene smith
