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The Hug Machine - A Very Non Traditional Hug

When I first heard about the "Hug Machine" I was angry that someone thought a machine could take the place of human touch. I visited Heartspring (a residential school for special needs students) in Wichita, Kansas, with a hug friend, Cher Clifton, to get more details. If I remember correctly, I think she actually tried out this machine but our photos didn't come out and my memory fails me and its too early in the morning to call and ask her if she remembers.

The Hug Machine, originally developed by Temple Grandin, an autistic, was modeled after a cattle chute. It allows students the ability, through self-controlled exposure, to learn to endure physical contacts like a pat on the shoulder or a handshake.

Mrs. Teresa Garnett, a physical therapy assistant, and my tour guide, spoke of a baby, flailing and crying, that rejected the efforts of his mother to cuddle him. He would only be calmed when left alone. A common characteristic of autistic children, is their inability to tolerate the human touch, she told me.

"They can't tolerate interaction with another person," Mrs. Garnett said. Even a soft touch like a hand on the back can be more irritating than deep pressure.

"It's not that we're fixing anything," said Mrs. Garnett, "just helping them to tolerate touch." Autistics are deprived of nurturing that comes with hugs because, though they want it, they can't tolerate a mother's touch, she explained. How sad.

Hugged by a Body Cast - Another Non Traditional Hug

At age sixteen, I spent a year hugged by a body cast following back surgery. The first three months I was confined to a hospital bed in my room. Oh, my friends came to visit at first, but soon the bonds that held us close together, were no longer. I craved the long conversations about boys, the walks, the giggles about the cute boys, bike rides, discussions about boys, slumber parties, phone calls about boys, burgers and fries. Yes, I knew I looked funny, I sometimes smelled funny and I thought no one wanted to be associated with me anymore. And although I laughed on the outside, and knew God was with me, at times I felt like all I had to hug (hang)on to was the trapeze bar over my bed.

My boyfriend visited me when on leave from the Air Force during this time and did what our children now call "the face thing." He would tenderly take his finger and trace an outline of a heart around my face, then gently carve our initials on my cheeks, as he sat patiently by my side and proposed.

The Face Thing - Yet Another Non Traditional Hug

My oldest daughter, Stephanie, doesn't ask for the face thing every night anymore. (Give her a hugbreak. She's married now and her husband just might get a little irritated. Besides, though painful, I had to let her go. God will see to it that she is taken care of and gets her hug quota. Father Knows Best. Not Robert Young, our heavenly Father.) Anyway, this face thing was a nighttime ritual for many years, one I was called on to perform if Dad was away. She eagerly gives me a hug any time I ask now.

When my other daughter, Angela, was twelve, she enjoyed our game of drawing pictures or writing words on each other's backs. Then we would take turns guessing what was written. Now that she's sixteen, I must respect her wishes and get permission for a hug. These tender moments will be hugged on to our grandchildren someday.

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