We had a hospice in-service today on treating terminally-ill patients with gentle touch (yes, massage, but as non-certified practitioners, we can't use that word apparently; I will here, though). Particularly for elderly and terminally-ill patients, touch is so important because they tend to be untouched except in medical or practical ways, rarely personally or intimately. We're encouraged to offer gentle touch and try simple techniques with our patients. But there are many caveats regarding fragile skin, blood clots, lymphedema, and such, so that as a volunteer, I focused on hands.
After lotioning my own hands with Eucerin (something non-greasy and non-irritating with little or no scent), I cradled my partner's right hand in my left and then stroked her hand with my right, using mostly the heel of my hand as it's the softest part. It's rather like kneading bread, squeeze and press and stroke, using both the upper and lower hand, focusing not so much on the skin but on the contours of flesh and bone. After a goodly time, I turned her hand over and did the palms, as well as fingers and thumbs. And there was more pressure than I would have expected, though we were encouraged to ask what felt right. When it was my turn to receive a massage, I noticed right away that, while the focus was on my hand, my entire body relaxed in just a few minutes. Under different circumstances, I probably could've fallen asleep!
The demonstration continued--on foot rubs, supporting and massaging shoulders (and then down the arms), cupping the occiput (base of the skull) and rubbing the neck, back rubs--with a focus on both the practitioner and recipient feeling comfortable and engaged (there was focus on using whole body movements to avoid stress and strain on the back, arms, and shoulders.) Repeatedly, our teacher stressed that gentle touch is as much a gift to the practitioner as the recipient.
When the babes were very young, we took an infant massage class at the hospital and then tried it a few times at home, but neither kiddo took to it. I hope, with a little practice, I'll be able to use this new technique more successfully with my hospice patients. Tomorrow, I meet my new patient, a 95+ year-old woman. I'll have to remember to take some hand lotion!