I’m not your typical touchy/feely type of guy.

If you get little too close to me, I’ll probably end up backing away a little bit just because of who I am.

That’s not to say the folks whose personal space is decidedly smaller than mine are weird.  Far from it.  I’m quite sure I can learn from them.

There are therapeutic benefits from touch.  I know, because there are those who have touched me at the right moment, and it has made a difference in my outlook pertaining to what I am facing at the time.

But, take a couple weeks ago.  We were at the funeral of my wife’s Uncle. 

Lots of touch going on.

I approached one of my friends there with the intent of offering a few words of sympathy.  Somewhere in our conversation, I rested my hand on his shoulder.  It didn’t feel right to me.  I can only hope he took my intention as good, in spite of it all.

I wonder if there is a standard way of touching someone in situations like that?  Something less awkward, more caring, say.

I’m timid when it comes to touching someone to show I care.

Sometimes it comes out as a bit of a thump on the shoulder, or if it’s my sweet daughter or one of my nieces, maybe a little pinch on their arm.  Such a small thing, I doubt they even know I did anything.  But, it almost always makes tears come to my eyes when I give them a little touch.  Good tears.

And that gets me to the point.  Touch, in the right way is good for a person.

I can vouch for sure to that after this past week.

I was in for my second eye surgery.  This time we knew something was in there because of an Xray we had done, and it was time to get it out.

I was dreading it.  The last surgery had left me sorer in my arms and knees from clenching up so tight than the actual pain in my eye. 

I had a different Doc this time, and so far, I had been fairly impressed with him. 

It was when I was in pre-op (they didn’t make me put on one of those dreadful gowns) that I saw him come into the room.

He came near, visited with me just a bit, and then placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “We are going to take care of you.”

A few minutes later I saw him in the operating room.  We chatted just a bit more, and then, that touch again on my shoulder and a few reassuring words. 

I’m pretty sure that Doc is younger than me.  He wouldn’t have needed to touch me.  In fact, I had sort of accidentally breached protocol, I suppose, when I saw him in the other room by calling him by his first name. 

But in my vulnerable moment, he did.  It made all the difference.

And I hope I can emulate his touch to others in my life.  (Don’t worry, I’m not going into it, wholesale.)

Thank you Dr. Kimple, both for your touch, and for your skill in operating on me.