What words can’t do
Touch is a form of human connection. When I think of touch, I think of one person touching another to give them protection and connection, and to share an experience. In neonatology, when we celebrate the birth of a child, we hug the parents. Even though we are physicians, we still celebrate their celebrations, or at least I do. Sometimes, I ask, “Is it OK if I hug you?” And I’ve never been told no.
On the other hand, touch can be incredibly important during the death and dying process. In neonatology and critical care, we deal with death and dying at a time that’s supposed to be a time of celebration.
The loss is not just the loss of a baby who is very sick, it’s the loss of everything the family envisioned for what the baby would experience. A little girl, a little boy, soccer, ballet. That loss is tremendous and being able to touch someone shows them, “I get it.” Touching and hugging someone, and being there with them, can connect us in a way that words can’t.
When I am working with trainees, one of the questions I ask is, “Did you examine the baby?” Sitting and looking at the computer at all the vital signs, or the quotes from the nurses, never replaces actually going to the bedside and examining the baby.
In medicine, to provide care to patients at the most vulnerable times in their lives requires active listening to their story, as well as examining and touching the patient. These actions personalize the patient-doctor relationship and say, “I believe you, and your journey to recovery is our journey together, hand in hand.”
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Estelle Gauda is a professor in the Temerty Faculty of Medicine’s Department of Paediatrics, and the Department of Laboratory Medicine and Pathobiology. She is also head of The Hospital for Sick Children’s neonatology division and the Women’s Auxiliary Chair in Neonatology at SickKids.