A number of years ago I found myself in a situation that made me wonder about the fears that people have about touching people who are sick. Much of the focus of my private massage practice over the years has been to work with people who are sick – whether in a hospital, or hospice, or in the home. It is easy for me to empathize with the patient’s need to be touched. And I have learned how to touch people in ways that are safe, appropriate and helpful, while observing all the best of self care in terms of proper hygiene and good body patterning.
So I found myself on the other side. I was sick in bed recovering from a severe bout of food poisoning. I was away from home at a women’s fitness camp in the mountains where I was one of the staff. That morning I had led a wildflower walk, followed by lunch. I would have a couple of hours before I got ready to begin giving sessions of massage to other campers. It might have been something in the food (I never should trust raw mushrooms in a salad!) after a morning in the hot sun, but within an hour I started to feel nauseous. I’ll spare you the details, but I retreated to my room, meekly asking a friend to cancel my afternoon massage appointments.
Throughout that afternoon and into the next morning, I was alone in my room, as I let the illness run its course. Occasionally a friend or another staff member would stop by to make sure I was okay, in spite of the intense headache and gastrointestinal distress I was experiencing. Keeping hydrated was the main challenge, and fortunately, I did recover in time to get back to work the next day.
During those long hours I did notice something about the people who came to see me. They were all very well meaning. Asking me if I was okay, they tended to stand at the foot of the bed, where I lay looking miserable. But one friend pulled up a chair and sat down at the foot of the bed and held my feet. Yumm!! Now I knew I would be okay. The warmth of connection, and her steady presence were such a relief to me.
As I think back on this experience, I can still feel the impact of that simple gesture — sitting down with me, just for a few minutes, and actually touching me. I see this in contrast to the all too common experience I’ve seen in medical settings where well meaning family members and friends of the sick person stand awkwardly beside the bed, afraid to touch the person who is sick. Is it fear of becoming sick, too, or simply the helplessness that comes from not knowing what to do. Sadly, even many people who are well trained in the general practice of massage, fall into this same feeling of helplessness when confronted with illness.
So, I just want to say: Don’t be afraid to touch. You might just make all the difference in someone’s day.
