Kneading love into broken bodies and minds

In a cubicle in a darkened ward, I heard a murmur behind drawn curtains around my neighbour’s bed. It was two nurses changing the soiled bed linen. As they worked in the semi-darkness they whispered about the nightclub jaunt and they had been on the weekend before. I could make out the muffled laughter as they describe the events. Not a word from the patient on the bed.  Only a grunt of pain as they turned the dead weight between them. Sores develop when bodies lie too long on one spot. Nursing staff must regularly turn their charges like bacon on the grill, to avoid the burden of a bed sore. The patient, now immobile, cannot turn themselves to find relief. They await the mercy of others.

These two nurses giggle as they work quickly to complete their tasks. Their rubber gloves allow cleaning to be brisk and impersonal. Job done and with a laugh, over her shoulder, the gloves were discarded in a nearby container. Hand wash was dispensed and then they both emerged from behind the curtain. One whispers to the other, “it was awful crazy that last dance, I could barely stand!”

Her co-worker sniggered something I could not hear. Whatever it was, it triggered an outburst of hysterical laughter. In response, the inert figure groaned again from the bed. They left whispering confidences down the long corridor, shoes squeaking annoyingly.   

I remember having my first massage aged 50. I had waited half a century but it was worth it. As my cousin and I lay in opulent luxury at a lovely spa I was amazed what a good massage can do. These hands soothed muscles taut with stress and even penetrated deep tissue. Finding the points where pain lingers and working them free as if untying a knot.

It is an art form this craft. Masters of the trade can do real magic with their hands. I was delighted, inside one week, to be given a second voucher to a different spa.  Anticipating the same treatment, I was disappointed. It was obvious this masseur did not want to touch me. I felt her disdain through her fingertips and voice. My skin screamed its dislike of this touch. Every time her hand poked or prodded me I wanted to withdraw into the couch. To disappear completely from view or touch. It was such a relief when it was over. A long, long hour that felt as long as the 50 years that preceded it. Feeling foolish and frankly abused I left. I’d learned a lesson of sorts just not sure what?

Then this week, 10 years later I got some insights on the whole business.  Fourteen language students visited our home for a meal.  The eldest was in his 30s and was an Italian masseur with his own business in Sicily. I asked this professional about my experience at the hands of these two different masseurs.

He happily explained that physical touch conveys so much. Even one’s mood! A bad attitude is transferred to a client immediately through touch. As I described my horrid experience and its mechanics he nodded knowingly. “When you begin a massage”, he explained, “with a client and touch them you should never let go of that touch until the complete massage is over”. Apparently, touch is so personal and private you cannot afford to discard physical contact with them and then with touch intrude again. Instead, when moving on to massage a leg or arm you leave one hand always in place and only having touched and stroked the new area allow the remaining hand to be removed. The sudden withdrawal of touch in the midst of a massage is interpreted as neglect/antipathy for the client who is aware of everything through your fingertips. Care or indeed indifference is conveyed through the hands as effectively as fingerprints on a crime scene. He pointed out that the hands of a masseur should be warmed before being applied. As he spoke of how emotion can be conveyed through simple touch the vital importance of respect became clear. That it has to colour every interaction. The tone of one’s voice, respect for privacy and always permission sought for each physical interaction.

It made me think of a famous doctor who has made a medical examination into a kind of art form at Harvard. Taking care to perfect his physical examination with practice and reflection he now teaches these forgotten skills to other doctors. At a time when blood tests and scans dominate their methodology, he believes in the power of the doctor’s touch. This physical touch during medical examination, he is sure, should be an expression of concern, gentle but perceptive and can provide a deep reassurance that comforts a worried or ill patient.

It made me think of that silent patient groaning behind the curtains on the darkened hospital ward. Lifted and turned with such cavalier indifference. I know our staff have so little time, understaffed and overworked. I understand all that, but I really wish the importance of touch was taught to all. How to do it with love and respect. How spirits are soothed by the presence of mindful hands. When voices are silenced and patients withdraw beneath their skin how wonderful if loving hands caressed that wounded spirit and kneaded love into broken bodies and minds.

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Falling and false fancies

On the 31st of July I was visiting my son and family in Folkstone with my mum.  We had flown over to look after my grandson while his childminder was off on holiday.  He is a delightful child and full of energy as only a 2 year old can be.  My mum and I worked together and found it delightful getting to know this little chap.  

There is something about being the major caretakers that creates a bond between you and a small child.  There is also much laughter and smiles when small children are involved.   Every night when my mum took her medication Charlie would haul himself up on the  sofa to get a better view of her taking her inhaler, sprays, pills, lotions etc and roar with laughter at the sight.  It was as if she was putting on a nightly show for his entertainment.  He never tired of this routine and his reaction made us laugh each night.  

Seeing a small child examine the sea, the stones, the insects reminds you of the amazing world we live in.  It is all so completely new to him you are reminded of the miracle of even the simplest thing around you.  Then on the third day while walking Charlie along the sea front my mum fell.  It was a bad fall and somehow both she and Charlie ended up on the ground.  My mum’s injuries were considerable and included a fractured elbow, bruised ribs, a colourful blow to the side of the head and a large bleeding wound to the arm.  Picture the scene, a two year old crying on the ground with a small cut to his palm and my eighty two year old mother lying not far away in agony.  We were on an isolated promenade by the sea and quite some distance from a road or town.  

As we pondered what to do a couple of joggers appeared, aged 20- 30 both male.  I supported my mother’s shoulders on the ground waiting for the shock to pass and the two joggers passed us by without a word.  A distraught two year old and a bleeding eighty year-old were obviously not on their exercise programme that day.  I asked Charlie to bring his great granny some water from the buggy and with tears running down his cheeks he raced to the buggy and brought the water bottle. 

Three weeks have passed and recovery has been slow, painful and steady.  The medical staff in Folkstone were fantastic, my son and his wife looked after us with much love but what sticks in my head for some reason is the sight of those two joggers ignoring us.  They had to run around all three of us.  I keep wondering what on earth were they thinking?  Was there some other priority that took precedence?  There are times when you just have to scratch your head and wonder, just what is going on in this world.  Has present day isolation taught us to be immune to human suffering?  Does the plight of others leave us cold and indifferent?    Are we all too busy with our own concerns to react?  I have no answers but only questions.  Can we even see those less fortunate than ourselves?  Do we see the world we live in and those we share it with?  

Through the eyes of a two year old this world is beautiful full of beauty.  Charlie is still at that stage that he greets everyone in a cafe as though they were his best friends.  He is as fascinated with an ant as an eagle.  All of this world is there waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.  At what stage on life’s journey do we turn away from each other and cease to care?  Does our inability to register the needs of others coincide with our inability to be truly happy?  

part 1 - Science Fiction

Have not been posting as I have been working on an piece of science fiction.  Here is the first section of this novella.  The next installment will be in a week or so.  Hope you like it.  Very different from my normal stuff and way outside my comfort zone - but great fun to construct and make up.  Set in the future!

Statement from the President of Pacifica

“Our country stands at an important crossroads in the history of our civilization. In order to understand where we are now, we must be aware of our history. Unlike previous multitude of nation states, today's great powers of Pacifica, Atlantica and Asia represent the entire population of our planet. As president of Pacifica, I have had to steer difficult ethical path in a world were other leaders have lost their footing.

Let me explain. In the early part of the 21st-century brain transplants became possible. Following the success of heart/lung/kidney/face replacements this seemed a natural progressive step. However, it would be another two decades before research discovered that the brain itself consists of two connected parts. During surgery only one part of the major brain organ was replaced. The brainstem was left intact as it had important connections to the spinal column and other vital nerve pathways. At that time, we were unaware of the effect of two brains in situ for a lifetime. What actually happened was a form of gradual communication between the new brain and the old brain stem. This linkage arose because of the plasticity of brain cells, which had previously thought only to exist in embryonic and developing brains. From close physical proximity the brains learnt how to communicate. This had no effect on the first generation of patients but had tragic consequences on their children.

In 50% of their offspring there was indication of telepathic capacities. This so-called learnt behaviour meant they were able to read the minds of others in their proximity. We call those unfortunates, readers. Let us call a spade a spade. These readers are an accident, and mishap of modern transplantation that should never have happened. We have learned to our cost, that surgery has far outstripped ethical considerations. All three superpowers no longer permit partial brain transplants but the damage has been done. For some time we will have readers in our midst, that is the conclusion of the other superpowers. Until, this abomination is diluted through genetic mixing and the dying out of existing readers they say we must be patient and long suffering.

We, here in Pacifica say no! We will not tolerate mind readers within our borders. They will not be allowed to play God amongst us. Reading our private thoughts, judging and dispensing their misguided sentencing. Innocent until proven guilty is a fundamental right. I am responsible for what I do, not what I think. Only my actions are accountable. We do not accept their strange world of thought control and monitoring. Their ability to abuse their powers has been exposed in our courts. What more do our neighbours want? There has been a consensus here in Pacifica and expulsion of readers has cleansed our home. It has protected our rights, as free individuals in a free society. While the other superpowers play gruesome games disfiguring their justice systems and social structures to accommodate these medical mistakes, we have held fast to what it is to be a human. We alone, have kept our focus on human society and governance. Our clarity has shown the lack of morality of other superpowers. They want to fudge the truth because they have forgotten the essentials. They think with maxims or supervision and diversity drives these mind readers can be corralled, controlled or embedded. We alone guessed that the plasticity of their brains which causes the telepathy will also frustrate any attempt to legislate or control. Soon their mistaken philosophy will become apparent.

In essence, human beings have been invaded by an alien of their own making. Would we willingly continence this alien intrusion into our lives, thoughts and future. No, friends we would not! We will not! Pacifica stands firm for your rights, human rights. Having expelled readers we have taken the first step of our liberation. Now, we must close our borders to avoid infiltration. We must control and monitor the enemy within. This will be our second battle. We have begun a war and there will be many battles before victory is ours. As long as expulsion is possible, readers will be exiled but soon other superpowers will realise their mistake in accepting these toxic specimens. Here, in Pacifica we have recently developed the technology to identify readers from birth. I find it significant that both superpowers, at great expense, have ordered particular technology from us. As always, we lead where others follow. When, they refuse to except readers, we will have to bring in legislation for the disposal of what is medical waste. Make no mistake, our ability to clean Pacifica from this abomination will be an example that the rest will inevitably have to follow.

We are steeled for the longer view. We see with clarity the path ahead which others have failed to see. We are precious, we are unique, we are human beings. This is our pledge to you, Pacifica and this is the Ark of humanity of this planet. Your safety, our security. We have chosen the right and only path for the future of us all.”

........to be continued