What's in a hug?
Recently the seniors from the school I teach and work for graduated. After the ceremony, while congratulating everyone and making my way through alumni and current students, one of the graduates stopped me. She said, "I need to give you a hug goodbye." I happily obliged, congratulated her and told her to keep in touch. I slipped out shortly after but thought about the hug because it reminded me of my first year at the school. At one of the very first dances I attended to photograph, the same young lady hugged me to thank me for being there and even let me be embarrassing and dance. It took me by surprise because it was unexpected and very sweet, but after knowing this student since 7th grade now, she is just a sweet person. Each hug had been a moment of comfort, a comforting welcome for me and a comforting goodbye for her, it all meant a lot to me. It also led me to think about another time a hug from someone seemingly random brought me more comfort than I'd ever know.
No Touchy
It's just a hug, why the big deal? Well, I will fill you in on my introverted side. I do not like being touched by people I am not comfortable with. I like getting massages, but I generally have a mini anxiety attack before I go because I know some stranger will be touching me. It is why no matter how long my hair gets I will only allow two people cut my hair. It's why when anyone I don;t know get's remotely close to me in public I hold on to my personal items in a very strange stance. I often appear rude because I don't always shake hands and I sure as heck don't do that southern kiss on the cheek thing with most women I meet.
This condition, I guess we'll call it, comes from being bullied growing up. Being physically bullied means being touched by those you don't trust brings discomfort and pain. This childhood state carried over into adulthood, especially after being diagnosed with cancer when being touched by a new doctor or nurse meant more physical pain. I even went through an episode after my second recurrence where I wouldn't let anyone except Tara touch me because of the pain caused by nurses digging around in my chest for a few hours without any anesthetic.
So to find comfort in the embrace of a stranger in the hospital was a big deal for me.
Melissa
The morning of my amputation was tense for everyone. A lot of negativity led up to it and the morning was no different. Tara had started a new job that same day after being let go from her previous place of employment so she couldn't be with me. My dad driving me to the hospital was in severe road rage mode. My mother couldn't even look at me because it broke her heart. My brother called me on the ride there, begging me not to go through with the amputation. It seemed like everything was happening around me and I was watching it all.
In the chaos of heading to check in for surgery at 5:30 a.m. we passed by the staff elevator. It opened right when we walked by, and my eye was caught on the bright green bandana contrasted against the gray scrubs and lab coats of the staff, green also happens to be my favorite color. The bandanna sat atop the dark hair of a young lady with a bright smile and cheery demeanor. It was infectious, I smiled even when I should have thought to have nothing to smile about and went about checking in.
After being called back, the calm I had prepared myself for quickly turned to chaos. I was poked and prodded, asked over 100 questions and I began to worry. I kept trying to close my eyes to make time pass faster and get it over with. Then the anesthesiologist came in and said, "We'd like to give you an epidural to alleviate the shock to your nerves from amputation." I promptly asked, "Is it going to hurt a lot." To which he responded, "Well there is some slight discomfort when it first goes in." Which we call know is doctor code for, "Yes prepare yourself for some real pain."
I panicked and asked to decline. He left and in return walked in the green bandana. The same smiling face from earlier introduced herself as Melissa. Melissa was clearly sent in for her bedside manner. She explained that the surgeon, whom I did trust, was pushing for the epidural. She explained in detail how it worked. Being a male, I always assumed an epidural was just some sort of an injection, not the Matrix spider-wire that grafts to your spinal cord Melissa was explaining. Even though I was a little more freaked out, her tone and demeanor reassured me and she stated, like most in her position, that she would be with me the whole way. I've heard that before but little did I know she really meant it.
The time came to go into the OR and I about lost my mind. Why in the hell was I not out cold already? I suddenly became hyper-aware of the close to nine people pushing and following my gurney into the operating room. A few tried to tell me to be calm, I am sure my heart rate was spiking, but nothing helped. Then a glimpse of green was on my side, Melissa grabbed my hard and I held on tight. I felt, even in that moment like a baby for being so scared but it didn't matter. She still smiled at me and I faked one back. In the OR were more people waiting, silver metal everywhere, and more people in a viewing room above. I didn't want to see any of this. From fear or from the cold, I began shaking as I was moved to the operating table. Then the anesthesiologist spoke up and said, "Mr. Hernandez, we are going to need you to sit up." I didn't respond vocally, I couldn't, I was wracked with fear. Melissa appeared in front of me grabbed my hands and asked me to breath with her. I felt a sharp pain in my love back and my body moved involuntarily and someone else asked me to remain still. My face was contorted and I had at least one tear on my cheek.
Suddenly I saw Melissa move in close. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear, "It's going to be ok." My body relaxed and I felt the tendrils of the epidural shock my body, Melissa held on still rubbing my shoulder. I hear her say, "I got you.'" as my body slumped forward onto her shoulder. That was the last I remember.
Give Comfort
I never saw Melissa again once I'd awoken, but I never forgot her. Something that was probably routine to her, made a world of difference to me. The fact that it still affects me should let you know how much so.
Since this moment, I tried to become a little more open about enduring embrace. I realized that giving a hug can be as comforting to some as receiving. Not saying, just go hug random people, unless that is your thing. Recently at a fundraiser, I welcomed some guest and in one group some I knew well, some not at all and a few I had only met once before. One of those in the later group ask, "May I give you a hug?" It kind of shocked me that she would think to be aware of some people's distaste from being touched that it gave me enough trust in her to say yes.
So how do the two stories relate besides the obvious? Simple, we should always give comfort to others when possible. Whether it be someone enduring pain, starting their next step in life, or simply going about their rough day; give comfort. You never know what something to simple, like a hug or a smile might mean to someone that needs it. It really can change their life.
