After years of being physically active, I suppose it was inevitable that I'd eventually screw something up. Now in my early forties, the decision to go head-to-head with a bunch of twenty-somethings on the basketball court may not have been the best decision. After straining the muscles and tendons in my left shoulder pretty badly, I spent several weeks with a physical therapist getting things back to normal. Jane was terrific, and I learned the value of proper stretching and the miracle of a skilled massage. When the doctor released me, and the insurance payments dried-up, I was mildly disappointed to lose Jane's magic touch on my shoulders.
"Steve, I want you to keep doing the stretches and pay attention to any aches that might reappear in your shoulder." Jane said professionally, while going through my file on my last visit. "You might want to consider seeing a massage therapist if muscle aches become persistent. Here's a card for a very skilled therapist I met during a seminar. He's local, reasonably priced, and proficient in a variety of methods."
"Thanks, Jane...I've appreciated your help." I said, taking the card from her hand. "Do you ever take private clients?"
"I wish I could, but my contract with the hospitals keeps me busy. I've used him before when the therapist I normally see is out of town." Jane said with a smile. "You might even consider making massage a monthly thing for stress...it has several benefits beyond muscle issues."
I tucked the card in my pocket and thought nothing more about it as I signed the paperwork that released me from Jane's care. I felt confident that I had learned my lesson about over-doing it, and went back to my usual routine at the gym.
About three months later, I managed to irritate things again. Despite loading-up on Tylenol, the dull ache just wasn't going away. I thought I had lost the card Jane gave me, but my wife kept it with the other paperwork in our files at home.
"Stop trying to tough it out. Give the guy a call and see if he can help." My wife said while rubbing my shoulders sympathetically. "Let go of a nickel...your health is worth it."
"I know...I'll call tomorrow." I replied with a sigh. "Having someone paw on me with a doctor's order is one thing. Doing it voluntarily is another."
"Oh good grief...he's working the kink out of your shoulder, that's all." Linda said, gently smacking my back. "You should try a full massage sometime. It's the highlight of my visit to the day spa with my girlfriends."
"I'm not ready to for dark rooms, new-age music, and cucumbers over my eyelids." I answered sarcastically. "Not to mention the hours it would take me to pick out a nail color."
"You can be such an ass." She said playfully. "Maybe we should start salons for men where you lay down on a boulder and bears walk on your back while heavy-metal bands play in the background."
"Now you're onto something."
"Ugh..."
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Reluctantly, I made the call and arrived a week later for my first appointment. The guy ran the business from a small building behind his home...likely a converted garage. I was pleasantly surprised by both his professional demeanor and the high-end appearance of the studio. Bill was about my age, also very fit, and easy to talk to. After asking several health-related questions, we discussed his rates and services.
"I can, of course, focus only on your back and shoulders...but that really won't cost you any less." Bill said, while looking over the file I kept from Jane's sessions. "You should take advantage of the opportunity to relax and lose some stress as well...treat the whole body, not just one part."
It was probably the money argument that won me over, so I decided to let him do the "full assessment", as he called it. Bill was very patient in describing the process and made it clear that the levels of dress and what areas he worked on were always up to me. The whole "full-body" massage thing was a new experience, and I wasn't sure how comfortable I was with it. Bill made no comment when I got on the table wearing an old pair of swim trunks. His touch was a bit firmer than Jane's, and I found it even more effective on my sore muscles. I had to admit, he was every bit as skilled as Jane said he was. By the time the first session was over, I felt fantastic and more relaxed than ever. Maybe Jane and my wife had a point about the virtues of massage as a monthly routine.
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After the first six months of seeing my new therapist, I got more comfortable with whole thing and finally ditched the swim trunks. It seemed more than a little silly, since Bill still kept me draped with a sheet the whole time anyway. Besides, the oils were staining the trunks and Linda kept chiding me to grow up. Bill was never anything but completely professional, and I felt as comfortable with him as I did with my doctor.
As always, Bill asked about any special areas of concern, and I had to confess to over-doing the lunges and turning my thighs into an aching mess. When I undressed and got under the sheet, Bill arrived a few moments later in his usual hospital scrubs. This time he dimmed the lights and started some soft background music....something he didn't do after I made a comment about massage turning into "new-age voodoo".
"Before you say anything...just go with it. I think you'll find it adds to relaxation, and not part of some druid ceremony." Bill said with a dry wit. "Besides, it helps me keep a smooth rhythm. So I'm being somewhat selfish."
