The Magical Masterful Masseuse
Sometimes life is more than a bowl of all bran. Stresses come at you from different angles, endlessly flying in your direction. You become this giant stress magnet, and other people have to duck out of the way as the stress hurtles towards you. My name is Cindy and I am a stress magnet.
The stress of packing up a life and moving to a different continent. The stress of getting paperwork up to date and reports done. The usual end of term stress with all teachers' nerves on a knife edge. The stress of an untimely death of a student in our school. The stress of juggling finances because of many unforeseen expenses. The stress of a child's final exams and graduation. The stress of saying goodbye to friends and some of your own children, not knowing when and where you'll see them again. The stress of not knowing what to do with some of your junk you forgot to pack in the shipment. The stress of not knowing what it's going to be like on the other side. The stress of your partner teacher being addicted to planning and discussing the students in her class, and following you everywhere, giving you NO SPACE AT ALL and stalking you when you try and hide away during a free period when you try and get essential work done which has to be completed because you are leaving. The stress of losing half a tooth and eating it. A myriad of things too numerous to mention. I am definitely a stress-magnet..
My first year in China, I used to get a massage sometimes twice a week. Foot massage was my favourite. Unfortunately, I had a couple of bruising experiences, the last time the most bruising. My back was black and blue as the masseuse had tried to knock the stuffing out of me and had tried to rub all my tension knots away permanently, but taking the muscle with the knot. I couldn't walk properly or sit without grimacing in pain for three days afterwards. I decided that it wasn't fun as I wasn't a masochist. On a visit to India, I had an amazing oil massage, but decided to never again have a massage in China. Until, last night.
A month and a half ago, my son managed an AC joint separation in his right shoulder playing rugby. There are no recommended physiotherapists in Nanjing, which is quite sad for a city of over 6 million peoiple. Someone at school suggested this guy who would come to your house and had specialised in rehabilitation massage. That sounded a bit like a physiotherapist to me, albeit a traditional Chinese medicine one. He mentioned how strong and muscular my son was and how difficult it is to massage strong powerful muscles. Amazingly, the guy spoke perfect English. My son got a bit worried when the masseuse started to knead his bum and was getting ready to smack him. But, he definitely eased his shoulder and my son has almost all his movement back in his shoulder now and is wanting to play rugby on Saturday. I have convinced him to wait.
My turn came with the masseuse, as the only way I could make my son agree to have a massage, was for me to have one as well. OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! Did I say, "Oh my God?" What a light soft touch! What gentle strong hands! Very small thumbs and we know what that means, but my God he knew just what to do and where to press. His hands flew across my back and zeroed in on the exact spot where tension collected in a knot. He is an awesome spot-finder - the x-spot, not the G-spot! I had had a terrible headache for seven days solid. He found sore spots, pressure points on my head and neck and worked them, firmly but gently, and my week-long headache vanished! My dizziness I have been struggling with dissipated! My neck went crack. This morning, after an exceptionally good night';s sleep, I woke up without a headache. This masseuse has magical powers. He is a master. I am in love.
I asked him if I should have acupuncture, but he said that he gave me a medical massage which was the same as acupuncture as it used the same pressure points and achieved the same result. For those of you not in the know, acupuncture is an ancient Chinese traditional medical cure,m where they stick little needles into your pressure points. They swear by it and up to date, I have resisted the urge to become a human pin cushion.
I am already counting down the days until the return of the magical master masseuse. I might fit him in with my luggage. Did I mention, that for him to visit you at your house and do you in your bed only costs a whopping great $10?