The Power of Touch

In The Who’s Tommy, the main character repeatedly sings the line, “Hear me, Feel me; Touch me, Heal me.” Touch can be a very powerful thing. For something so simple and almost trivial in our daily lives, a simple touch can have a world of meanings. It can be used to get someone’s attention, it can be used to steer in a direction, it can be reassuring, it can be frightening. It can be used to hurt, it can also be used to heal. Touch can exist when nothing else exists, and can make a huge difference to the one being touched. When all is said and done, massage is little more than this simple thing – it is touch. It is a touch meant for healing and helping, and despite all the various forms, modalities, styles, and purposes of massage that exists, everything boils down to the simple act of a touch. So instead of discussing once again about how massage is good for you, how massage can help you, I would like to talk about massage’s bare, simplified form and how powerful is the simple touch.

As we saw in an earlier article about how a mother’s touch can soothe a crying child almost magically, mothers and children are not the only ones who benefit from touch. Babies don’t know much. Of all five senses, sights, smells, sounds, and tastes all are unfamiliar and confusing. Touch is the only sense that is fully developed, so babies know and trust it. Touch means that someone who cares for us is nearby, we will get what we need, we are not alone. (Yes, I’m repeating myself from the other article, but it works here too.) As we grow, this innate sense that touch is good and safe sticks with us. If a child cries, a hug can usually stop it. If a child is unsure or scared, holding a hand can vanquish all demons. Children sleep with teddy bears and toys so that they are constantly touching something and can sleep in peace. Even after childhood, touch is a major factor. A pat on the back when a good job is done, a congratulatory handshake, athletes tapping or patting each other with equipment to wish luck, a shoulder squeeze for encouragement – all simple forms of touch that stick with us as we grow. Even in advanced age, as the senses fail, touch remains and can make a difference so powerful that we don’t even realize.

I try to keep my own personal stories out of these articles, but I would like to share three experiences I’ve had with just how much a difference touch can make.

My first experience occurred well before I had ever dreamed I would be involved with massage therapy. I was pursuing my dream of dancing professionally. Now dancers have their own conceptions about touch – it’s a VERY good thing, because if your partner is touching you, you probably aren’t going to hit the floor. Nonetheless, this isn’t about actually dancing. My company often provided outreach classes and activities for various school classes and groups. Once day we were working with a group of special needs children ranging in age from 7-12 years old. We never knew what we were in for with special needs classes, so we usually had a ton of activities planned, never knowing what the state of the children would be and how much they could participate.

Well this particular day when the children came out, they were introduced to us and among them were two twin sisters who had cerebral palsy. Both were strapped in wheelchairs and showed no sign that they were even aware of where they were or what was going on. They couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, and even their eyes stayed fixed and motionless. Even their hands were strapped down. The only movement they showed was their labored breathing. My first though was “What on earth am I going to do with them?” We took the class through the first few activities which basically consisted of manipulated stretches and moving arms, legs, feet, and hands. We manipulated the girls’ feet and legs with zero reaction. Then we led the group in a parade around the gymnasium with the able students dancing and the wheelchair students in tow, spinning the chairs and changing directions. The kids were having a blast, but the twins still showed no sign of anything. Finally we broke out the props and started activities using balls, silk scarves, and various other toys.

At this point the handlers left the wheelchair-bound twins and went to assist other students, leaving me with one of the twins. I talked to her, using her name, but no reaction. Finally I asked her if she wanted to dance with the scarf, and I took one of the silk scarves and ran it over her hands. Suddenly her face completely lit up. There was no change in expression, no movement in her face, just a radiant light that filled her whole tiny frame. I couldn’t believe it. I started speaking to her more and doing more with the scarf. I rubbed her hands and arms with it, I swirled it across her hands and around her face and head. Finally I tucked it in under her hands and swung her chair around, causing it to flow and flutter in the breeze. One of the handlers saw what we were doing and commented, “Wow, she is having a blast!” Still with no change of expression, no acknowledgement, it was clear from her bare energy that she knew what was going on, and was enjoying the scarf. Soon another dancer saw our progress and started the same work with the other twin. When I commented about the experience to one of the teachers at the end, I was assured that even though we don’t think they know what’s going on around them, the twins are very aware, but it is just a matter of reaching them to get a reaction– and touch was the best way to reach them. We had found they key to working with the twins. From then on, I was one of the only dancers who would work with the severely disabled kids because I knew how to use touch to get through to them.
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My next example came while I was training in massage therapy. I did a small internship at a nursing home. Basically a group of therapists sat in a big room and the orderlies brought in the residents who were going to receive massage. None of the patients were mobile, they were all either in wheelchairs or movable beds. We worked on moving limbs of stroke patients, rubbing shoulders of people sick of their chairs, and calmly rubbing arms and legs of end-of-life patients to make them more comfortable. I was working away zipping through patients, chatting with them and having as good a time as I could, when I finished up with someone and she was taken away, then the orderlies wheeled in and handed “Rosie” to me.

"Rosie” was pretty much in a coma. She was laying in the bed, no sign of movement, barely even breathing, completely unconscious. Now I was used to getting a patient and asking what they wanted work on, but obviously this wasn’t happening this time. I looked over at my teacher with an expression that said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She simply waved me off saying, “Therapeutic Touch works well on her.” I shrugged and took her hand. I considered Therapeutic Touch an insult to massage therapists because it didn’t involve anything – just laying down your hands on something and sitting there. Nonetheless I tried it. I held her hand, then put my hands on her arm, and slowly moved up and down her arms, legs, and shoulders. As I was sitting there, I thought I’d get really bored, but I found myself really paying attention to her face. Remembering my cerebral palsy twin, I waited for her face to light up, but that never happened, there was still no change. However after a while, I found myself feeling very, very calm. I had been stressed out about school, annoyed at getting a patient that I thought I couldn’t help, plus a zillion other things, but they all melted away, and I felt like I was totally relaxed when I was done. When “Rosie” was taken away, my teacher asked how I felt. When I told her I felt really relaxed, she laughed and said that I had done my job. Somehow when “Rosie” got her massages, she has a way of projecting how she felt onto her therapists if they were helping her. I did nothing more than lay my hands on her – no rubbing, no kneading, no nothing. I was simply there, and my touch let her know that, so she was able to relax and rest easy.
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My final example hits very close to my heart because it is very recent. Just this past month, I was able to visit my 84-year old grandfather for the last time before he succumbed to complications of Parkinson’s Disease. While he sat propped up in his favorite chair, he could no longer speak, couldn’t move, and could barely recognize anyone. He simply mumbled, the only audible words told us he was speaking to his long-deceased sister. We knew the end was very near, and I was warned before I got there that he wouldn’t recognize me, and he was unable to talk to me, so I was supposed to not get upset or frustrated with him. When I went to his side I greeted him and told him who I was, then I realized, duh, he always wore a hearing aid, he probably couldn’t hear me anyway. Nonetheless I took his hand, and sat down to talk to him. It was evening, and his condition was worse as the day progressed. As I took his hand, he looked over at me. His eyes showed a brief flicker of recognition, then they glazed over and he fell into incoherent mumbling and gazing off into space. I talked and rubbed his hands, then stood and gave him a hug. Once again, his eyes cleared up and he moved as if he was trying to say something to me, but he fell out of it quickly. One of my cousins was there and he got much of the same reactions that I did. We felt that we was recognizing us, and he knew we were there, but he was unable to communicate with us, and knowing our grandfather, that was frustrating him beyond belief, and probably ultimately making the situation worse.

At one point, my grandmother even came in and told me to touch his face when I spoke to him so that he knew I was there. I tried that, then stared talking about my dance students and a recent concert we had just had. As I talked about my dancers, I rubbed his legs. Suddenly his legs jumped to life and he started kicking his legs and wiggling his feet. I was so excited because I knew he was trying to tell me that he recognized me and knew that it was me – he was moving his feet because I was always his little dancer, and this was the only way he could communicate with me. I was jumping up and down with excitement when his health care worker came in and commented that the leg shaking was from the Parkinson’s (The disease had attacked his legs from the start). Perhaps it was true, but I believed that truly, I had once again gotten through to him, and he in turn had gotten through to me. So I put my hands on his feet and tapped them in the rhythm as they kicked and shook, and then I finally got what I hadn’t gotten in any other experience – a weak, but visible, smile. I was communicating with him for what I knew would be the last time, and he was finally able to communicate with me, which in turn eased his frustrations, even if it was only for a short time.

The next day I saw him for the very last time. It was early in the morning, so he was more lucid than the day before. My dad gave him a kiss on the head and pop-pop acknowledged him by name, then I hugged him and told him that I loved him, he clearly squeaked out, “Love you, too” – so everyone in the room heard. A week and two days later he passed away, surrounded by his wife and 7 surviving children. At the funeral, we all came together – 7 children, 25 grandchildren, and one great-granddaughter plus respective spouses. There were a lot of tears, and a lot of hugging. After my brother helped move our grandfather’s coffin from the funeral home to the waiting hearse, he walked over to me, tried to mention something about the wood the coffin was made of, but instead collapsed into my arms, sobbing. At the church, people walked up and down the aisle holding hands, friends reached out and patted family members on the shoulders or arms as they walked past. Even at the grave site, one of our more “jokester” cousins completely broke down into tears, resulting in what very well may go down as the largest family group hug in history. In the end, touch was there for our grandfather, and touch was there for us when he was gone.

Touch was the first step of our healing process, as it is for many people who have suffered a loss. It can be there when words are at a loss, or when nothing else seems to work. It is a way to communicate, a way to help, and a way to heal. It is always there, and always can be. Take even the case of Helen Keller, who was blind, deaf, and mute, yet she went on to lead an incredible life through a system started by touch. It can make a huge difference in someone’s life, either for a short time, or for eternity. Maybe Tommy wasn’t too far off asking to “Touch me, Heal me”, it worked him, and has worked for people for centuries. It has a power all of its own that is at the same time both mystical and tangible. The power of touch, it’s a curious thing – and quite powerful.

Coming Next Time…. Definition Time