Skin Hunger

I don't know if this story is true or not. I could not find it during a 5-minute google search. However, it was told to me by a person I deem credible, and that says something. But here it is.

One of the ancient Roman Emperors (I can't remember which one, Mabye Marcus Aurelius?) had an interest in science and early human development theory. He conducted a rather inhumane experiment by today's ethical standards, but it is telling.

He took a group of new born babies from their mothers/families and placed them into the care of his own nurse maids. One half of the babies were to be cared for like any other baby, fed, changed, cleaned, held, spoken to and loved. For the other half the babies, only their basic physical needs were to be met. Nurses could feed, clothe, change and clean them, but as for the holding, talking, touching and loving, none was to be done. They were to be left in isolation.

As I said, it was an horribly inhumane experiment with (brace yourselves) an unhappy ending. The first half developed normally as you would expect. The second half, neglected of intimacy, despite having all of their physical needs met, died.

I'm sorry if this story makes you angry. It breaks my heart as well. But I'm writing this post to reflect on the importance, indeed, the power of touch.

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In the NICU they practice something called Kangaroo Care. This is time holding your baby (mom or dad) with as much skin touching as possible. Moms lay their tiny premis on their chests to share warmth between them and practice for breast feeding later. Dads open their shirts and hold the dear ones on their (sometimes hairy) bellies so babies can learn their skin texture and smell. Since the mid 1980s Kangaroo Care has been emphasized more and more as vital to a baby's development and ability to thrive.

During Kangaroo Care, or put another way 'skin time,' a life-long attachment between parents and child is formed. It's during this time that children learn a sense of safety outside the womb and first learn of love for another.

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In the ER, when a critical patient comes in needing CPR for a long time they sometimes wrap this machine around the patient which preforms the chest compressions automatedly. It's basically a piston that straps over the chest and repeatedly compresses the sternum to pump the heart. One of the advantages to "thumper," as it is dis-affectionately referred, is precision. Unlike human compressions which vary, thumper compresses evenly each time. It's actually very disturbing to see it for the first time. But I suppose from a medical point of view it's worth something.

I've never been the biggest fan of ol' "thumper," and recently one of the ER nurses articulated for me why. To one of the other resident chaplains in our group this nurse said something like this, "Part of the effectiveness of CPR is the love that translates through the hands of the one doing compressions."

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One of yet another of our resident chaplains recently told me about some new and interesting observations on something called Skin Hunger. The basic idea pertains most often to senior citizens and/or people in assissted living or nursing homes who are alone and don't receive much physical contact. Sometimes these people develop Skin Hunder where they need, more than anything medical, human contact. Simply holding someone's hand can be life giving or sometimes, when suicidal thoughts enter the picture, life saving.

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For some time now I have made it a point to try my best to physically touch each patient I visit. Part of this is to provide a physical means of connection along with the emotional connection that often develops with patients. Also, I hope to express my theology through my body language, position and phsycial distance or lack thereof. My theology envisions a God who moves close to the suffering, is on their level, and touches our lives in one way or another. So, it is with theolgical intentionality that I give good eye contact with, move toward, get on an even level with, face my shoulders toward and reach out to every patient or family that I encounter. At least this my goal.

Little old ladies just love the shoulder pat, the tight hand grasp or the arm rub. Some folks, once you surrender you hand to them, seem as if they're never going to give it back. At times it is not possible or realistic to touch each patient, but I try as circumstances allow.

I think most of us know that human contact is important, but things like these help me to remember how important and vital to life a simple touch can be.

Who have you touched today?