The Day I was Blessed into the Profession It was early afternoon as I walked into my office during the first year of my new profession as a massage therapist. I noticed my first appointment was a new client named Michael and he was scheduled to arrive in thirty minutes. The receptionist notifies me that early this morning he had called requesting a massage. He stated that two years earlier he had fallen from the third story of a building, shattering both femurs and his pelvis, and had gone through 12 surgeries to repair his body. All the other massage therapists at the office were too frightened to take him and as I was not there to object, the receptionist had scheduled him with me. Realizing I had no idea how to care for someone in such a condition, panic and anxiety coursed through my body. I immediately grabbed a Pathology for Massage Therapists textbook and scoured the pages looking for advice on how to work with someone who is recovering from multiple bone breaks, with titanium rods, pins and screws in the body…. only to discover that the trauma of falling 30 feet is not really a pathology. My panic increased. I’m not skilled enough, nor do I have the abilities or knowledge to help this man, I told myself. Moments later Michael arrived at the office. He was 31 years old and over 6 feet tall. Yet he moved like a man twice his age and he was stooped over. He had a grey cloud of pain and weariness about him. I greeted him and asked him to please fill out a health history form and then we would go from there. He asked if he needed to fill the whole thing out because the part about recent surgeries could take a few hours to complete. This did not help my emotional state, however, I mustered up a smile and said just write a brief summary. As he filled out the form I walked into the bathroom, feeling like a caged animal trying to figure a way out. I can’t do this, my mind screamed over and over. Eventually I walked back to Michael who had finished filling out the form and invited him to follow me into the massage treatment room. He shuffled like an old man and hoping to find a way out I said, “Are you sure you can even undress to get on the table?” Michael said, “Yes.” He then went on to tell me where some of his most current aches and pains were, which I did not hear because my mind was screaming to me about how unqualified I was. We he finished I stood right in front of him and nervously said, “Michael, I’m going to be honest with you, I really don’t feel like I am qualified enough to be able to give you the massage you deserve.” He straightened slightly, smiled, and placed his right hand on my shoulder and said with a calm assurance, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” And with that touch and those words, spirit moved through me and transformed me. During the massage, I tentatively touched his scars and felt the harshness of metal encased in tissue throughout his body. My mind was replaying all that I had learned in massage school trying to remember anything that might be helpful. While massaging his stomach, and noting he didn’t seem familiar with the typical massage routine, a sudden realization dawned upon me and I asked him, “Michael, when was the last time you had a massage?” He sat up slightly and looked me straight in the eye and said, “John, for the last two years I have been cut upon, drilled into and injected with needles, but today is the first day I have ever been touched.” Continuing the massage I nodded quietly, closed my eyes and felt a blessing wash over me as a tear ran down my cheek. I do not remember the rest of the therapy, as my mind went blank and my hands moved intuitively, only feeling the blessing upon me. After the session Michael came out of the treatment room and I literally did a double take. He was standing at his full height and there was a glow about his head and shoulders, he truly did not look like the same person. He paid me cash and said he felt a lot better, I told him he looked almost unbelievable. I then placed my right hand on his shoulder and said, “Thank you.” I mailed a follow up thank you letter that night and went home excited to do a follow up phone call the next day. When I arrived at the office bright and early in the morning, I called the phone number on his health history form, a recording came over the phone, “No such number.” Two days later, the letter was returned stamped, “No such address.” Blessed be. John Morgan
Posted on: Wed, 21 Jan 2015 19:49:01 +0000
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