Jane E. Babin
Cell 2 Soul. 2007 Spring; 3(1):a17
My doctor gave me a hug today
in his office at the end of my appointment.
He said," You need a hug", then wrapped
his arms around me.
I never expected the intimacy of his concern.
Alone for so many years
one becomes accustomed to the lack of touch.
Yet it felt warm and pleasant like rubbing one's hands
over a fire on a bitter winter day.
Perhaps he saw the resignation in my eyes
and felt connected to my fear.
But there was sadness in his eyes as well.
It came to me later in the day
as I pondered his hug, his words,
that he was really talking to himself, addressing years of anguish
over his young son who, like me, is trapped in a wasting body.
For one moment, he saw his dying son in me.
And in that space, arms around each other,
comfort and pain merged and sped off to the sky.