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.

________________________     

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.

________________________

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."

________________________

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.

________________________

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?

Rounds

The NICU is the most sweetest, mostest precious area in the hospital. Each time I make rounds through it I notice something different.

Little medical cribs line the walls of a room that has thousands of square feet. Some cribs are enclosed in a clear plexy glass incubator to keep out any and every unwanted germ. Others are open with little babies lying in the center - some cozy, some unhappy. Some have special UV lights shining over them to help skin develop, but sometimes the blue UV light is coming from underneath and it's illuminating the whole flat surface they're on, which makes it look very futuristic and alien-like.

Every Tuesday morning we gather for Interdisciplinary Team Meeting to discuss the patients. Each baby has his or her own set of needs.

In the step down (less intesinve) unit, a nurse was bottle feeding a baby, which is one of the skills each baby must learn to do well before being discharged. The nurse maintained constant movement of the tip of the bottle in the baby's mouth. This keeps the baby stimulated, focused on the task and hand, and "it keeps the baby awake," said the nurse. We don't want anyone falling asleep during meal time. (However, I do love eating and naps. To combine the two seems unlawfully blissful.)

Another little guy has been in the NICU for a long time. He has his own little room with lots of colors, a hanging mobile, and a TV in front of him which plays baby learning videos to keep him stimulated. Today, when I walked in, a volunteer was holding him. With every breath he makes a grunting sound (indicative of his health concerns), and his eyes are huge and adorable as they gazed back at mine. I love visiting him. And I love his large, bright, inquisitive eyes.

I visited the last surviving baby boy of pre-mature triplets. The family and staff have had their hearts ripped out twice as his brother died days after birth and then his sister just last week. Their bodies were just to sick to survive. When this little guy was born his toes were transleucscent, and his skin was so thin you could see virtually every vien and some muscles through it. Daily, mom gives him pep talks, because she just can't go through losing another child.

Two babies' cribs are close to each other. One is a tiny little 1.5 pounder struggling to use his eyes and savoring every breath. The other is a full weight healthy and chubby girl who looks strangly out of place in the NICU.

My experience in this unit has made me come to appreciate the fatness of every healthy baby I come across. Most NICU babies are unlike most Americans as their health depends greatly on their ability to gain weight. The opposite is true for the rest of us.

The NICU is sad and tender. It holds a somber and yet reverent mood in the air. I marvel at the parents' ability to see the good, the hopefull, and I stand amazed at just how beautifully and wonderfully we are made.

God doesn't make mistakes

During the NICU interdisciplinary team meeting today the doctor told us about a new born baby with special needs. The needs of this child are rare. The sonogram before birth indicated that the baby's sex would be female. Upon birth, this was confirmed by the doctor who saw female parts on the baby. However, genetic testing showed that the baby actually had a "y" chromozome, which means genetically that the baby is a boy.

I've heard of cases like this and others where questions of gender are big issues and gender lines become very blurry. The doctor indicated that chemically and hormonally this child is a boy, and the parents are and will treat the him like one. Also, later on, a prosthesis penis would need to be made for him.

Too many times have I heard opponents of homosexuality and those condemning persons of alternative sexual preference say that since God doesn't make mistakes no one is truly born a homosexual. I have no reason to believe that this child will be homosexual; however, the unusual circumstances have put me onto the topic. I'm just glad this was caught early so that the parents and child don't have to deal with a crisis when this child, appearing female, grew a mustache and failed to develop breasts during puberty.

So, what happened in this case? Did God make a mistake. Or is the science wrong? Or perhaps, to ask whether or not God makes mistakes, is the wrong question. And perhaps trying to answer this question and set ourselves up as judges over one another is the wrong approach to take toward one another. Rather, what if God is calling us to love one another as ourselves and to spread life through acts of kindness and love through words of encouragement. What if, even if we disagreed on moral grounds with another person, we made a choice to honor his or her dignity; now that definitely wouldn't be making a mistake.

Personally, I don't think God made a mistake when this child was formed in a loving mother's womb. I think this child is beautiful and God absolutely adores him. I don't think God made a mistake when God created my good friend whom I respect, who also happens to be lesbian. I do think God smiles a divine grin when thinking about each one of us.

What do you think?

Grow, grow!

Even if you no longer go to Sunday School, you know how the old Sunday School song goes, "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white..." And I'm guessing youre finishing the rest in your head right now.

This week I began a three month rotation through the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). This is the last of four rotations for my program. I began in Behavioral Health (the psych ward), then went to Hospice, Oncology (cancer patients), and now......babies! Not just any babies, but tiny, struggling, innocent, fighting for their life babies. Babies born prematurely or with birth defects and handicaps. For the critical ones, literally each breath can be a fight for life.

The NICU is closed to most people in the hospital; special access is required on our name badge just to open the door. Upon entering, it's like opening the door to an entirely different place. It's dark to help the babies' brains develop, and quiet so as not to harm any growing ear canals and such. We always squit our hands with sanitizer before entering any patient room, but to obtain access to this cradle of care, a solid two-minute long hand scrub down is mandatory.

The patients here are more than adorable. They're cute, precious, goofy-grin, gitty on the inside, wonderful little bundles of life that tap some of the innermost parts that make me human. Just by looking at them I'm on their side, I'm rooting for them. Though I can't just pick them up, I'm holding them with my eyes, with my heart, and I'm reminded of what Barbara Brown Taylor wrote in a book I'm reading, "To hold a sleeping child in your arms can teach you more about the meaning of life than any ten books on the subject."

The Talmud is a central text in the Jewish tradition in the form of rabbinic discussion pertaining to Jewish law, ethics, customs and history. The Christian Old Testament is also called the Tanakh and is a Jewish sacred book along with the Talmud.

The Talmud talks about God's love for and attention to all people and things within creation. God loves all of creation. John 3:16 begins, "For God so loved the world." In fact, according to the Talmud every blade of grass has its own angel bending over it whispering, "Grow, grow."

I love this image. Angels cheering on grass as it strives and struggles to be what it was made to be. As I was floating through the NICU today I found myself cheering for each baby by which I stood. On the outside I was smiling. On the inside I was bending over each baby whispering, "Grow, grow."

They are precious! And if my heart and love for these babies feels so strongly inside me, I love the idea that God loves and cheers for these dear little ones even more.

I have a sense that if I listen hard enough I'll be able to hear God chanting along with me. And something tells me God is chanting the same thing to me, and to you.