Renée Fuller, Ph.D.

Copyright © 2006 by Renée Fuller

     The first time I was aware of its powerful effect and began to appreciative what had happened was as a graduate student. It was while working on my dissertation with the much maligned laboratory rat. Initially the meaning of what had occurred didn't register. But then, when over a period of years it happened again and again, I realized that I had witnessed a mysterious phenomenon; one that is peculiar to many living organisms including us humans.

     What transpired began on rare occasions when an animal went into shock after having been injected with the test chemical. I could feel the rodent stiffen, and as its blood pressure dropped the fur would lose some of its warmth. But there was no shivering; these effects I soon realized are characteristic of a shock reaction associated with the drop in blood pressure.

     On those occasions when I needed to stay in the lab in order to continue animal testing the affected rodent could remain on my lap and be gently stroked. When it was time to leave it would be returned to its home cage. However, on those occasions when I had to leave immediately the rat in its shocked state would, without delay and no stroking, be taken back to its cage.

     It never failed. When an affected animal had spent almost an hour on my lap being gently stroked it would, on my return, come to the front of its cage as if to greet me. But not the animal that hadn't sat on my lap and hadn't had the warm gentle stroking. On returning to the lab several hours later I would find it lying in a corner of its cage – dead. The shock, from which it had not recovered, had killed it.

     The first few times it seemed like an eerie coincidence. But when it happened again and again I began to wonder: what was it about my gentle stroking that had made such a life or death difference? How could such a simple gesture as a warm hand gently smoothing the soft fur of the immaculate white and black rodent have such a powerful effect? And yet seeing it happen repeatedly over a period of years the evidence was indisputable. But what did it mean?

     An oddly similar although not as dramatic observation came shortly thereafter, albeit in a different context and with a different animal. A group of us young doctorates were attending a lecture by a senior professor noted for his aggressive condescension. On this occasion he belligerently questioned his audience to see if they had understood his arcane learning theory. The young doctorate next to me, known as a stutterer, was slinking deep into his chair to avoid being questioned. It was to no avail. The professor in an especial aggressive, confrontational manner proceeded to interrogate his new prey. In response, reflecting his obvious nervousness, his victim went into an acute spasm of stuttering. It was painful to watch the young man as he desperately tried to untangle his words for what seemed like an interminable time - made worse by the merciless looks and repeated verbal demands of the senior professor.

     It was sheer reflex that made me reach over and gently place my hand on the stutterer's shoulder. Miraculously the stuttering stopped immediately. In clear sentences the young man was able to express well-organized reasons that questioned the professor's arcane learning theory.

     Shortly thereafter I again witnessed the power of the healing touch. It was while training several young psychiatrists, teaching them how to examine babies. They were a group of five young women and one young man. Like many people in our modern world they had had little previous experience in handling infants. It wasn't long before all but one of the women became proficient at soothing the infants and were able to proceed with the developmental examination. The star of the group, to the surprise of everyone, was the young man. When asked whether he had had previous experience with babies the answer was "no." We watched fascinated as even the noisiest squalling infant let out a soft gurgle and became contentedly quiet after being surrounded by the young man's large arms.

     When I asked the six foot six male psychiatrist why he thought he had this effect on infants, making it possible for him to do especially careful developmental examinations, he responded with a convoluted Freudian explanation. All of us women burst into peals of laughter. We had recognized what we had seen. There was a soft quality in the way the young psychiatrist's big arms surrounded the infants. His was a healing touch.

     Sometimes the healing power can bypass the need for the touch and simply be a healing aura. It was some years later that I personally experienced its effects. At the time I was giving s series of workshops to the Milwaukee school system. Shortly before, the local water supply had been found to have been contaminated; but now was reportedly safe. Being reassured that the water was fit to drink I had some before retiring. Disaster struck in the middle of the night. That glass of water kept reappearing for the rest of the night. By the next morning, even though exhausted after numerous bathroom visits, I thought myself fit enough to teach the workshop. But on arrival at the school the rooms seemed inadequately ventilated and I felt myself unable to remain standing.

     After some time the paramedics arrived. Recollecting what had happened with my laboratory rodents I knew what the blood pressure cuff would say. Like my rodents I had the typical cold skin without shivering, accompanied by the characteristic drop in blood pressure. And remembering how the two different treatment conditions had had such different end results on my laboratory animals I refused to be taken to the coldness of the local hospital. The reluctant paramedics demanded that I sign a release and gave me some oxygen. The oxygen helped enough so that, supported by an elderly teacher, I shakily made my way to a rest room that had a couch. Later I found out why the elderly retired teacher who was supporting me to the rest room and stayed with me was known as Sweetiepie.

     Her voice had a calm and soft quality as we shared amused laughter about the dangers of hospitals. For the next half-hour our relaxed banter led to more giggles about the many things that hospitals can find wrong with any us. We agreed that hospitals were definitely places to be avoided if at all possible. At the end of that half-hour and our frequent giggles my skin had stopped feeling cold. Sweetiepie nodded. "Yes, you stopped being so white." Both of us knew that I was ready to proceed with teaching the workshop.

     Later I asked Sweetiepie if she was aware of having a healing affect. "Yes," she indicated. She knew she could produce a healing aura. And knowing this she had come to my aid, certain of the result. It is now decades later. We still talk about what happened that morning. And yes, there have been other occasions before and since when Sweetiepie has had the same healing effect on other people — which is how and why she had gained and retained the name of Sweetiepie.

     A few weeks ago I saw again the by now familiar shock reaction. This time it was in my new rescue Great Dane, Doodle. At age three the 160 pounder is full of macho display. This time it manifested itself in the sudden wild chase after a passing massive snowplow. I thought it was my frantic calls that brought Doodle back at top speed. To reward him for his prompt return we headed to the kitchen for some goodies. But contrary to Doodle's usual wolfish devouring of the goodies, he backed off and moved rather slowly to the next room and to his favorite spot alongside my desk. On following him I was startled to see the stiffness of Doodle's collapsed body. Stooping to pet him, his fur, instead of being warm felt cold to the touch. Then I saw it: a deep bloody gash all the way down his left leg. Our macho 160-pound Great Dane had gone into shock after what he may have interpreted as having been bitten by the massive snowplow.

     I squatted next to Doodle to give him extra warmth and then proceeded very gently to stroke the cold fur. After about half an hour the fur regained its warmth and he raised his head. After a few more minutes Doodle placed his head on my knee. Some more minutes passed and he got up altogether and put his head on my shoulder. It was Doodle's way of saying "thank you." Good manners are not restricted to polite humans. Perhaps even more surprising than the dog's "thank you." was that he had understood what we humans with our presumably superior medical knowledge so often fail to comprehend and act on: Doodle had understood that his hurt had been made better through the power of the healing touch.

     Peter, the dentist, is one human who, despite his superior medical knowledge, has understood the power of the healing touch, as well as the power of the healing aura. Many people may find it hard to believe that a dentist, of all people, could have such a talent. Peter's talent manifested itself when a dental procedure would begin to be even slightly painful. On those occasions he'd give the patient a quick soft reassuring pat on the face, sometimes adding "sorry." The gesture, even though it must have been repeated thousands of times in his long career, had a surprisingly soothing effect. Toward the end of a dental session Peter would bring the conversation around to the patient's main interests. The results were striking. Patients leaving Peter's office had a bounce in their step and smiling faces. They didn't have the usual dragged out appearance that we so often see in ex-dental patients who are in obvious and serious need of recovery.

     Perhaps the most dramatic utilization of the healing touch that I've seen was by Mrs. Mullett, an experienced, elderly teacher. Molly Mullett brought about a major behavioral transformation through her unique application of the touch. Many years previously she had received her Master's degree in Special Education from one of the prestigious Ivy League universities. Was she proud of the degree? Nothing of the sort. Molly Mullett laughed when Master's degrees in Ed were mentioned. "Those degrees are a joke. We were taught almost nothing about child development. My profs seemed to know nothing about real kids: all the more surprising since many of them had kids of their own. The Ed staff seemed to think that their kids were different, having no resemblance to what they were teaching. All we learned were some rigid theories about what to do in the classroom, which we had to memorize and spit back on the exams. The theories had nothing to do with reality. We weren't even taught the subjects we were supposed to be teaching the kids. I learned the various subjects on my own; how to teach I learned when I got into the classroom."

     And somewhere along the way she learned how to apply the healing touch. By the time I came to know her, Molly Mullett was a truly experienced expert. Her Special Ed classroom consisted of more than a dozen problem students who had failed not only in reading and math but, even more important, in basic socialization. Anton was the latest socialization failure to arrive in her classroom. At age eight he was known throughout the school for his rage attacks. His homeroom teacher was sure that the rage attacks were caused by some type of epileptic seizure and therefore should be treated with seizure medication.

     Mr. Bruce, the school principal, aware of Molly Mullett's successes decided against suggesting seizure medication to Anton's parents. Besides, he had the forbearance to conclude that any suggestion of that sort was beyond the school's expertise. Instead he had Anton placed in the Mullett classroom.

     The first thing that Anton did on arriving in Mrs. Mullet's classroom was to indulge in a horrendous rage attack. But whereas in his previous classroom the other children had been terrified of him, this classroom was different. Here were students who recognized one of their own. And they weren't going to let Anton get away with scaring them! In a practiced gang up job they pinned Anton to his desk and waited for Mrs. Mullett to proceed from there.

     Approaching Anton with a grin on her face she extended her arm, lightly touching him and softly said, "hush." That was not what Anton had expected. Looking at his new teacher in surprise he paused for a moment in his raging. She laughed and said, "See, the 'hush' makes the angry buzz inside you go to sleep."

     "That's silly, "was Anton's response. But for the moment he had stopped raging. When before long he threw another destructive temper tantrum this too was met with the soft touch and "hush " to turn off the buzz that made him so angry. He was known in Mullett's class as the boy who needed the "hush " to fix the buzz that made him throw a fit. Gradually the "hush " ceased to have to accompany the touch. Instead it was just a gentle touch that stopped Anton's incipient rage attacks. Finally came the day when Anton, in response to Mrs. Mullett's gentle touch and amused grin, responded with a grin of his own.

     It is now years later. Anton has turned into a successful teenager who is back in a regular classroom, free of rage attacks. What would have been the outcome if he had been given seizure medication? Perish the thought!

     How is it feasible for an aura or a touch to exert such extraordinary power? My experiences with the lowly laboratory rat and the loved domestic dog demonstrate that the effect of the healing touch bridges the evolutionary gap from rodents to humans. How can this be? What is it that so many mammals have in common that makes this possible?

     On a neurological level this commonality is found in the limbic system: the emotional center of the brain. Because the limbic system is already present in reptiles, this part of the nervous system is often referred to as the reptilian brain. Frightening or damaging experiences trigger a neurological response from the emotional center of the reptilian brain — the part of our nervous system that we have in common with most other chordates. For social animals, like us, a soothing touch or even a soothing presence of another will be routed directly into the emotional center of the limbic system. In turn neurological responses from the limbic system are sent to various cortical areas; areas which can affect behavior and on occasion can help determine the state of being or even of not being.

     And so, by reaching the emotional centers of the brain our healing hands have the potential of altering another organism's emotions and thereby its well being. That was what was experienced by some of my elegant black and white laboratory rats, by Doodle the 160 pound Great Dane, by the infant patients of the young male psychiatrist, by the patients of Peter the dentist, by the psychologist who stuttered, by Molly Mullett's student Anton, and by me. All of us experienced the wondrous power of the healing touch or the healing aura.

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