© Ali Smolinski | MD/PhD Program

The warmth of your body on mine
Micro-climates under the covers
Constructing our own timeline
Lock-down is exhausting
Contact is restoring
Consistency creates order
Responsibilities sustained
Love is the refrain

 

© Hannah Garson
Family of Lisa Spencer | Penn State Health St. Joseph Cancer Center

My mother’s hands
Cool my burning forehead,
Stroke my flushed cheeks,
Massage my aching limbs,
Touch to heal.

My mother’s hands
Pick me up,
Clean my scrapes,
Bandage my knees,
Touch to mend.

My mother’s hands
Spread sunscreen down my back,
Around my shoulders,
Along my arms,
Touch to protect.

My mother’s hands
Squeeze mine,
Pat my back,
Rub my arm,
Touch to reassure.

My mother’s hands
Work a morphine pump,
Drop it,
Grope for it,
Touch to find.

My hands
Grab the pump,
Position it back,
Caress her hands,
Touch to touch.

© Richard Cary Joel, MS, PT | Husband of Maria Joel, Department of Microbiology

She could neither see, nor hear, nor speak a single word,
this child,
whose whole world was nothing but darkness and silence …
for as a toddler,
cruel illness had taken away her senses,
and they would never be returned to her …
Poor little deaf, dumb, blind girl, they called her,
but though deaf, she was not dumb,
for she could think, and could figure, and she could learn
and learn she did …
and so, she learned home signs
and how to tell one person from another, by the vibration of their footsteps …
and to communicate through signs and gestures with another child
and so, doctors were found
and a proper teacher summoned
to educate this wild little animal
and attempt to turn her into a human being …
and so, the teacher pressed letters into Helen’s palm
with patience and perseverance
and with a faith and a hope,
that one day, the girl would come to understand….
Miss Sullivan would soon teach that child
what those letters stood for
Doll and Water and Mug and a thousand other things spelled out on a hand
by the touch of another’s fingers …
So many things of the world around her
which the child would never see,
but she could touch them …
and she could know that they existed and were as real as she was
and she could learn that they all had names,
just as she had a name
and her name was Helen …
Aside from her name and her curious mind,
touch was all that Helen had,
but that would be enough …
enough to make a life of it
and a life that would matter …
for this isolated girl was no longer isolated,
no longer in a world of her own,
but very much in touch with the world around her,
the outside world
with its people, and its animals, and with all the many things in it …
Helen could enjoy music by feeling the beat
and art, by feeling the strokes of paint on the canvas
and she could feel the lips, and cheeks and jaw of another
to hear exactly what they were saying
and though her own speech was delayed
it did not stop her from having a voice
nor a most distinguished presence
that would one day,
“touch”
the whole human race.

© Peter M. Hartmann, MD, DLFAPA | Patient

In 1963, I had an experience that determined the trajectory of my professional life. It began as an ordinary cold with a runny nose, scratchy throat, and a dry cough. Within hours a fine, pink rash began on my face and spread to the rest of my body. Aside from mild itching, I was not physically uncomfortable, but I was worried. What did I have? Was it serious?

I went to the 4-bed infirmary at my college. There, a senior pre-med student took my temperature and told me to return in the morning when the college physician came. The doctor had a kindly manner and examined me carefully. While listening to my heart and lungs, he put his hand on my shoulder. I remember feeling my anxiety melting away. The doctor’s touch was comforting.

When I reflected on what happened, I knew that I wanted to be able to do that for people who are sick. At that moment, doubts about my career choice ended. I would not become a college professor after all. I would become a family doctor.
My illness turned out to be German measles (rubella). It resolved within the usual 3 days. Later, as a medical student, I learned that rubella was unusual in the U.S., thanks to the Measles, Mumps, and Rubella (MMR) vaccine (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2020).

At the start of my mandatory surgical rotation, I learned something I did not expect about touching patients. The chairman of surgery told us that we should examine our patients even when we already know the diagnosis. He knew that patients wanted to be touched by their doctor. That made me remember my experience in college when a doctor’s touch was comforting.

Being touched is a powerful sensory experience. For example, one cause of a baby’s failure to grow normally is inadequate touch by the baby’s parents (Polan, 1994). Therapeutic massage can reduce anxiety and pain. Good touch from another human being is powerful. It has special significance when patients are touched by their doctor.

This was brought home to me when I was a resident in family medicine rotating on an adult inpatient unit. I had just admitted a young man only 3 years older than I. He had developed a slow heart rate, less than 35 beats per minute. This had resulted in episodes of syncope. A cardiology consultant arranged for him to have a pacemaker inserted.
The patient was scared. I accompanied him into the procedure room. When he slid onto the treatment table, he grabbed my hand and held on tight. I did not expect it. He would not let go until the procedure was over. It was clear that he wanted (needed?) to hold my hand. I was the only person he knew in the room. It was what he needed, so I was willing to do it.

The importance of a physician’s touch has been well studied. For example, Dr. Keltner, a psychologist at Berkeley “found that getting eye contact and a pat on the back from a doctor may boost survival rates of patients with complex diseases” and “research has concluded that touch can be a key factor in comforting patients with Alzheimer’s Disease.” (Keltner, 2010).

Kelly and colleagues noted that “empathic physician behavior is associated with improved patient outcomes.” They point out that empathy can be demonstrated “through the use of non-verbal communication including touch.” (Kelly, 2020). Touch from a physician is healing. It reduces the stress response. It conveys compassion. Patients have more confidence. Their mental and physical health improve. Yet, it costs nothing.

Unfortunately, during this COVID-19 pandemic doctors have not been able to touch their patients as they did before. In-person visits were replaced by telemedicine in many cases. That was a beneficial approach to meeting patient’s needs while reducing the risk of spread of the disease. An added benefit was the ability of patients in rural and other areas with limited access to medical care to be seen by a physician.

However, like many good things in life, there were tradeoffs. One of the significant losses was the lack of the physician’s touch. The benefits of telemedicine are such that it should not be abandoned when the pandemic ends, but I hope that in-person visits will become available once again. Patients need to be touched.

References:
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2021). Rubella, German measles, Three-day measles. Retrieved from www.cdc.gov.
Kelly M, Svrcek C, King, N, Scherpbier A, Dornan T (2020). Embodying empathy: A phenomenological study of physician touch. Medical Education, 54 (5): 400-407.
Keltner, D. (2010). Hands on research: the science of touch. Greater Good Magazine of Greater Good Science Center at Berkley University. Retrieved from www.greatergood.berkeley.edu.
Polan, H.J. et al (1994). Role of the mother’s touch in failure to thrive: a preliminary investigation. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 33(8), 1098-1105.

© Elias Harkins | MSIV

Metamorphosis,
the beautiful transformation,
is boring from the outside.

A caterpillar walks along a leaf,
spins a small, green cocoon,
and hangs in it,
before emerging as a butterfly.

A scientist sits at a desk,
flips open a textbook,
and holds, staring but not reading,
before making the most important phone call of their life.

A student walks onstage and gets a short white coat,
studies, works hard, and goes to clinic.
Then, they walk out donning a longer coat,
several new letters to add to their signature,
and bold new financial responsibilities.

But from within,
these metamorphoses are dramatic,
beautiful,
and mysterious.

A student, donned in a coat they make their own
works through years of school,
learning more than they ever imagined.
They take on caring roles,
for people they know for less than a month.
They navigate an ancient and unchanged system
in constant flux and development.
They yearn for a role in helping and healing.

A scientist
places pieces together.
The subtle and unsubtle mingle
to form a picture
of a self mismatched.
Their call is the first step of reconciliation.
They yearn for wholeness.

No one knows what the caterpillar does in its cocoon,
but I like to imagine it.
Does it “feel” when it transforms?
Does it know who it will be?
I can almost see it,
curled up in a tight cocoon,
using the green-tinted light filtered through walls
and stretching its neck to look at its colorful wings.
Feeling beautiful.
It yearns for flight.

And, in this cocoon, they all think,
“I am becoming me,
and I am so proud of my metamorphosis.”

© LoriAnn Lockard, CPC-A
Patient Financial Services

The Touch of her arms
when she hugged me so tight,
The Touch of her face
when she kissed me goodnight.
The Touch of her voice
when I did something wrong,
The Touch of her singing
as we all joined in song.
The Touch of her eyes
when I made her feel proud,
The Touch of her tears
when she cried without sound.
The Touch of her strength
as she guarded me at night,
The Touch of her laughter
bringing such joy and light.
The Touch of her warmth
on the couch side by side,
The Touch of her fear
when there’s nowhere to hide.
The Touch of her beauty
New Year’s Eve dressed in black,
The Touch of a gun
Daddy please bring her back.
The Touch of pure passion
tore our family apart,
The Touch of her presence
forever in my heart.
The Touch of my Mommy
you can’t take that away,
The Touch of my angel
I feel every day.

 

© Barbara Antolino-Smith, RN, BSN | Retired, Department of Pediatrics

He returned my smile one quiet simple afternoon
and the world was mine.
His tiny, chubby fingers
later gestured for me to loosen his sock,
straighten out his little shoe,
and I grabbed a million diamonds in those seconds.
A treasure long awaited,
patiently attended
and gratefully accepted.

His luminous brown eyes were warm and dark,
trusting and generous,
playful and coy.
My reward was beyond earthly measure,
from this young patient of mine.
Enclosed in a grateful heart
and suffused with joy.

I realized then, that my strength is not derived from isolation
or perseverance or spiritual fortitude.
It is derived from my own vulnerability,
of gently laying a course with this tiny boy,
and allowing my heart perhaps to be broken.

© Dwayne Morris | Educational Affairs

I don’t need your money Papa
As much as I need you
There’s a lot of ways to make a living
But love’s a tougher dream to make come true
I’ve always believed in that love
As long as life included you
But while your financial plan is unfolding
I miss our walks and Winnie-the-Pooh
I don’t need your money Papa
As much as I need you

© Dwayne Morris | Educational Affairs

Magic has a sister
She calls Myth
And sometimes …
I can’t tell them apart
I grow weary
Of the lines being blurred
And the toll it takes …
On my heart

Magic’s nurturing
Inspiring my faith
Myth wants to drag me
Through the mud
The devil’s arsenal
Features subtle lies
Not all warfare is fought
With a mighty thud

Magic had nothing but love
For her sister Myth
But sometimes
Love isn’t enough
Magic grew weary
Of all the give and no take
Even the strongest hearts
Long to be touched.