I was not keen on getting a mammogram. Not so much because I was afraid of the pain but because of the controversy surrounding the efficacy of doing them. But my doctor insisted and so I went for my first one. The center I went to is for Women’s Imaging and so entirely staffed by women, with a waiting room full of women. (Through the space was clearly not designed by a woman – only one single restroom for two full waiting rooms of women?! What?!)
The worst part was the waiting. First the waiting in the front waiting room, then the waiting in the back waiting room after locking up clothes and things in the locker. An hour or so later, I finally was called in for the imaging.
The woman who did the imaging was nice enough and respectful enough but I was struck by how different her quality of touch was from what I am used to.
I’ll back up. Until the last couple of years, I’ve had relatively few interactions with the medical world. But I am used to being touched. My training in the Feldenkrais Method meant that I had the hands of nearly a hundred people make contact with me at one point or another. I am accustomed to people moving my body around. Some are better at it than others, but I understand kinesthetic information very well.
The woman doing my mammogram told me that relaxing was the best way through the process and luckily the Feldenkrais training gives me a pretty good aptitude for consciously letting go of tension. I figured it might not be so bad.
And it wasn’t so bad. But I was struck by how much I like a piece of meat I felt as I submitted to her instructions. The quality of touch was so much less kind than I am accustomed to. There was uncomfortable pushing on my ribs, my skin stuck to the machine and then was twisted into a position that pulled and pained me. When I moved my arm to free the bit of skin that had gotten caught on the machine, I was admonished for moving after having been placed. But my training has disinclined me to be obedient to authorities when it comes to my body.
Every point of contact was unpleasant. And listen, I wasn’t expecting my first mammogram to be a pleasant experience – but I was surprised at how many opportunities for kindness and care were missed.
And this isn’t about this particular imaging technologist. This has been my experience in medicine so many times over. When you learn how to become a technician, I’m certain no one teaches anything about quality of touch.
But I think it should be taught. Almost every Feldenkrais practitioner I know could teach such a thing – along with clear instructions.
My technologist instructed me to move “forward” multiple times – which was clear she thought was obvious. lt was a very clear instruction in her mind but one I found very disorienting in a disorienting situation. Forward towards the machine? Forward away from her? I always guessed wrong.
One of the things we learn in Feldenkrais training is how to orient every direction is a lesson to the person’s body and the space. Forward isn’t enough. Towards the windows or away from the shelf will get you there much more efficiently.
I’m sure the busy busy overburdened messy American medical community sees no value in teaching people how to improve their quality of touch or the clarity of their directions. It’s interested in maximizing profit and increasing their numbers. But I actually think improving quality of touch and instruction would benefit those things as well. I am in no great hurry to have that mammogram experience again after having been pushed around with so little tenderness. It doesn’t actually take any more time to touch someone in a way that communicates care and attention. It takes time to teach it, sure – but to do it? I expect things would actually move a whole lot faster if the touch in such moments was clear, kind and direct.
I was confused multiple times during the process and she could have gotten me out of there so much faster with a clear, direct, kind touch. The pain I experienced while getting this done seemed to me entirely avoidable.
I would love to see medicine embrace Feldenkrais in a dozen different ways but if medical professionals just got one workshop in quality of touch, it would make a difference for so many people.
I have many clients who tell me I have magic hands. I appreciate the sentiment but I definitely do not have magic hands. I’ve learned to communicate with them, that’s all. I learned how to touch in as kind, clear and direct way as I know how. It is a learnable skill. And I’d love to see people who work in medicine learn it, too.
