tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975704292232304762.post8939112138893335241..comments2023-05-05T06:24:14.360-07:00Comments on Cottarton Cottage: TouchVagabond and The Gypsy Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00516255984697975027noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975704292232304762.post-52509982565306529922010-11-19T07:08:55.739-08:002010-11-19T07:08:55.739-08:00How well you write with such love for your dear Mo...How well you write with such love for your dear Mother. It is sad that touching is often discouraged. I can often tell by the look in someone's eyes if it is o.k. to touch them. I pray for your mother's continuing recovery. It was a blessing that you were with her when she entered unfamiliar territory. It is a terrifying experience. LizAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3975704292232304762.post-84307249926546206382010-11-11T06:58:47.682-08:002010-11-11T06:58:47.682-08:00That's a beautiful piece of writing, Uncle Pau...That's a beautiful piece of writing, Uncle Paul. In that last paragraph you've put words to something I've often felt as a doctor. When I worked on the stroke ward, the patients who often meant the most to me were indeed the ones with whom I could only communicate by touch. In the midst of suffering, it's rare that words are more eloquent or authentic than touch, or a look in the eyes.<br /><br />There is something that's lost as this vulnerability recedes.Adamhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04301347941279888504noreply@blogger.com