She was sitting in the examination chair with her arms tightly crossed. When the medical student had gone into see her, she had refused to allow him to check her pulse or blood pressure. She was disheveled and clearly agitated. As I entered the room, I greeted her and extended my hand.
“No! I can’t touch anyone! My boyfriend has an infection!” I have something on the top of my head and I think it might be from him! Just give me something!”
I carefully washed my hands in front of her and looked at the scalp. She had a small area of swelling on the top of her head, but it was merely a small cyst. Not a problem. No treatment required.
“Who told you that you couldn’t touch anyone?”
“I’m not sure. It has been weeks.”
Imagine going weeks with no human contact! What right is more basic? Surrounded by a sea of people, alone, unclean, and untouched.
After a discussion on the importance of hand washing, I gave her “permission” to again touch and be touched. She was a foot off the ground as she left. I did not give her much, but yet, what a difference that small gift made.
Posted 10:45 AM