Ow

I guess there are people who don’t like massages--I expect they’re the same people who don’t like chocolate or babies. But for me, having my back rubbed, and having sore spots kneaded out of me is sublime.

I’ve had some neck issues for a couple of years. Over the last couple of months I decided to finally go for it and have semi-regular massage for a while to see if it could help. I’m not sure that it’s been as therapeutic as I’d hoped, but it’s felt great.

So, today, I got a call from the massage place, and was told that my regular therapist, Julie, was sick, and did I mind having...let’s call him “Chad”....take her place. No problem, I said, as long as he can do deep tissue.

Oh, he can do deep tissue, she assured me. What she didn’t mention was that he was a sadist who’d been kicked out of the CIA’s elite Department of Waterboarding and Torture for being Too Brutal.

Now, you need to understand that I really do like deep tissue massage. Though I can cry at the drop of a hat, I have really high pain tolerance for certain things--like when I broke my ankle and drove my stick shift to the doctor’s office--and then to and from the radiology department a few miles away. Not a brilliant idea in the end, because once they’d bandaged me up it was physically impossible to drive home and I had to call Heather and beg for a lift. But you get the idea. Also, (TMI warning), I have had electrolysis on a Very Sensitive Area. Without any pain gel or pills or anything.

Again, you get the idea--and previous massage therapists have commented on it, “You really DO like deep tissue,” etc. And I think I’ve become a little proud of it, as one sometimes does become proud of things that one has no reason to be proud of. So when Chad said “let me know if you need me to ease up,” I thought “ha.”

And then a few minutes later I thought “how am I supposed to tell him to ease up when his heel and full weight is between my spine and my shoulder blade and I CAN’T BREATHE?” And when he started digging his elbow into my thigh muscles I wondered if I could reach to kick him in the teeth.

They do Fijian-style massage there, where they walk on you and balance themselves with straps hanging from the ceiling. It’s great...except when it’s not. This wasn’t so great. Of course, I really should have told him to ease up right away, but I thought “no pain, no gain,” and Pride was a barrier, and when I finally did speak up, we were near the end anyway.

He did ease up when he got to my neck, but it still lacked...finesse. And instead of my muscles feeling all stretched out and gooey at the end, I felt tense. And a little uneven. And honestly, there was a spot on my neck that wasn’t feeling so hot.

He asked how I felt at the end. I mentioned that there was an area on my neck that was feeling...odd. “Odd?” he said. “Yes,” I said. Silence from both of us. He gave me a glass of water. I went home.

Right now, I feel in need of a neck rub. A gentle one. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow. If necessary, one of them can do a little extra work and fix me. I can be assertive when I’m not being Prideful.