Thursday, May 07, 2015
Being Pile-Driven by a Blind Masseuse
When you look at the price and decide that a $10 hour long massage sounds heavenly, you need to be prepared for the very earthly aspect of blind massage. There is no diffusing jasmine and new-age pan flute lulling you into pampered bliss. As you walk inside, you are greeted by young men forming loogies and old women yelling about their boils. There's no spa to it. You get a massage because your muscles are broken. That is all.
The first indication that this will not be relaxing is the fact that everyone is dressed in a white overcoat and are referred to as doctors. Most of the hour is spent with them commentating on much improvement your body needs. I once had a blind massage man who kept squeezing my arms and telling me it was obvious that I didn't exercise.
These amazing men and women have either complete blindness or severe sight loss and a very heavy hand.
After you lay down and situate your face in that bed hole the game begins. I explained to the doctor that I had tweaked my neck the night before and she replied, "Well, this is going to take at least an hour."
She took her sledge hammer thumbs and started working on my neck. It was so painful that my hands went numb. I tried avoiding unconsciousness by reminding myself to buy eggs on the way home. I couldn't let my pain eek out because I wanted my neck fixed. She was pushing so hard on the back of my neck that I inadvertently started humming as she violated my vocal cords.
The pain on the left side of my neck started to ease as I began to rhythmically breathe loudly like I was some sort of race horse anticipating the starting gun. My palms were sweating and I realized that I had been chewing on the bed sheet that was pressed against my face as I lay in the bed hole. Sometimes there is brief yelping as if you've stuck your foot in boiling hot tar.
At one point, I channeled my inner "Rudy" so as to not roll off the bed and run out screaming of the room. If Rudy could play football for Notre Dame, I could endure the rest of my massage.
It was now time for my lower back. She employed both her elbows and was poking me with her index finger as she made her way down each side of my spine. I'm pretty sure I felt my non-funcionting right kidney start working right there on the bed.
Then comes the rub/pound combination. This is how most Chinese massages end. They rub your back as if to console you. Then she does the traditional chop chop to your spine, pats you twice like you're in the locker room and tells you, "You're good!" Then you're on your way. Well, you're on your way if you are still able to use your legs to support your body weight. It took me about 2 minutes to get blood moving back into my legs. I took a dizzy exit to the cashier, paid my $10, and walked out pain free!