Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Massage
I got a massage today. Not for any particular reason; I guess the October Special (one hour for thirty dollars) was reason enough. I hadn’t had a decent massage since my previous masseur went off to Mykonos to make his fortune.
Massage used to be a lifesaver for me. Until I discovered exercise, massage was the only thing that helped my lower back pain. Now that I exercise regularly, massage is little more than a treat.
It didn’t used to be that way. During residency, if I popped good money for a massage, it meant something horrible had happened. Maybe I had pulled a 40-hour stint on three hours of sleep, or maybe one of my senior residents had lit into my ass over something inconsequential. Or, as happened right before my first massage, maybe I had almost killed a patient.
It’s amazing how much of what we did in residency, we did for the weakest of reasons: because it had always been done that way. Case in point, trach changes on post-op day four.
Here’s the set-up. One of the medicine teams consults ENT because they have a patient whom they think will be on a ventilator for a long, long time, and they would rather the patient have a tracheostomy. Tracheostomies are better than endotracheal tubes for lots of reasons. They’re more comfortable, for one thing, and they don’t erode the upper trachea the way endotracheal tubes do. Also, you don’t want to know what an endotracheal tube can do to the inside of a person’s nose or mouth, given enough time.
In our program, tracheostomies were junior level cases. The third year resident would do it with his second year resident assisting, and later in the year, the third year resident would stand by while the second year took the intern through the procedure. Our chiefs didn’t even want to hear about trach consults. It was beneath them.
For reasons that escape me, we would do the case on one call night and change the trach on our next call night, four days later. Looking back on it, I have no idea why we felt it necessary to change out the tube so quickly. I’m having a hard time coming up with even a single argument for doing this on day four. We had to do it eventually, but why not let the site heal up a bit? Change it on day eight, or day twelve. Jeez.
Eventually, something bad was bound to happen, and it happened to me. I had done this many times before . . . but this time, when I removed the trach tube, the wound closed. Voila, no airway. I was looking at bloody quicksand.
The patient coded instantly. While the medicine resident tried to intubate from above, I put my gloved finger into the neck wound and felt around for a hole. My heart was trying to jump ship, and my brain kept scrolling headlines, but my finger knew what to do. I found the trachea, used my finger to guide the tube in, and recovered the airway.
The patient did fine, but I was jello. No, not quite jello; the opposite. It felt as though every muscle in my back had become a steel cable.
I imagine many of you think of massages as a treat, a reward. For me, this first massage was a necessity. We had a place down in Rosemead with a bland name like Chinese Massage, and they had a great deal. For forty dollars, you could spend a half hour in the sauna or hot tub, come out and get a one hour massage, and then go back into the hot tub or sauna for as long as you liked. Ever since I had seen the ad, I dreamed of going. Now I had to go.
The logical part of me knew that massage parlors were legit. You had to go to the seedier sections of town to get full body work. Still, I freaked when my Chinese masseuse rubbed oil on my back, because my mind didn’t say OIL, my mind said ASTROGLIDE, and God only knew what she was going to do next. She spoke little English, but I managed to get the idea across. I’m sure she thought I was a little nuts.
Yeah, that was one the best ones, ever, even without the lube. The worst? The gal in Mountain View who kept raking her fingernails up and down the insides of my thighs. Was she trying to give me wood? Because if that was her plan, she should have employed a more direct approach. As it was, she only managed to annoy the hell out of me.
***
Today’s massage? B+. I miss my masseur, Mr. Mykonos. In addition to giving a kick-ass kneading, Elias would stretch out my tighter muscles. Odd thing — I hate stretching, but if someone does it for me, it feels good.
I have another massage scheduled for later in the month, this time with the gal whom my employees have selfishly hoarded for years. But now she will be MINE, MINE, ALL MINE!
D.
I haven’t had an actual massage, with oil and shit, but one of the few things that my current place of employment does right is bring in a guy who does chair massages, and now that I’ve experienced that, I want to try the full on thing.
Never had a massage; I think I would be too uptight for one. Which must mean…I need a massage?
I’ve never had one either – the thought of being rubbed by a complete stranger kinda skeeves me out – but a friend bought me a gift certificate to a day spa – massage, facial, hairstyle, manicure, etc – and Bill said I needed to use it before I left for New York. So I’m going in on the 15th.
The thought still skeeves me out though.
i lovelovelove getting AND giving massages. my treat for myself is to go into northampton every once in a while and go to this place that does chair massages for a dollar a minute. i’ve never had a professional full-back oil and everything massage, but my friend kate whose mom is a massage therapist has given me one before. it was great. someday i’m going to get her mom to give me one…i also love giving massages, and i have many people who will tell you i’m amazing. i enjoy it so much, making people feel better…someday i wanna take a course. so i can get paid for doing something i like. it would rock.
Dean, you definitely need to try the real thing.
Sis, Tam: it’s only creepy for the first few minutes of the very first time. Everyone has their particular areas, places they consider too personal — and I’m not talking about the obvious. For me, hands and feet seem terribly intimate. And by the way, at least you women don’t have to worry about your body betraying you! I imagine I’m not the only guy with I-WAD (Inadvertent Woody Anxiety Disorder).
Shaina: dollar a minute sounds steep, but then, lots of things are surprisingly inexpensive around here. The going rate for an hour massage in our area, 45 to 50 dollars. And you should definitely take a class or two — your future spouse will thank you for it.
I am a massage junky, but I can’t afford them anymore. Full body, oil, massages. Had a hot-rock one a few years ago that was heavenly. On every sore spot on your back they place a warmed river rock. Heavy and warm — just enough pressure to feel good as the masseur/masseuse moves on to your legs or whatever.
I don’t find them sexual at all. Just deeply relaxing.
I also know that I have a lot of grief stored in my neck, because every time the massage moves to my collarbones, I cry. But that’s OK too.
why is it the best, most fabulous, perfect massages make you have to pee like you’ve drunk a gallon of water? The fabulous, perfect masseuse I talked to said it released toxins but she talked about chi and whatnot, too.
Suisan, I don’t think they’re sexual, either, and it’s actually pretty rare for me to get any stirrings during a massage. It’s not unusual for me to feel anxiety over it, though.
Most painful part of this massage: when she dug around underneath my shoulder blades. Ouch. But I toughed it.
Kate, I’ve never had that experience. Guess I’ve never had Teh Perfect Massage. As for chi, I’ve got a quickie post coming . . .
I dunno Kate, but there’s something about turning forty after having gone through three childbirths that makes peeing, or finding bathrooms quickly, a primary concern these days. TMI?
So I’m not sure I’ve ever made the connection between massage and any more frequent urges. Anymore than getting into the car, grocery shopping, sitting in a meeting, doing dishes, folding laundry, etc., etc., etc.
I looove massages – getting, although I give pretty good, too (Dean’s shoulders are a little too big for me to work over properly, but I can get rid of my mom’s migraines in about 20 minutes). I’ve had 2 chair massages at work, and they’re lovely, but nothing compares to a full-on, head to toe massage. Haven’t had one of those in 10 years 🙁
I think a buck a minute is about the going rate here.
I had my first ever massage six months ago because I wanted the pampering, kneading until fall asleep warm fuzziness that I thought went with a massage. Oh how wrong was I? I got the “Sports Massage” which was…rough. When she started talking about massaging under my scapula I got a bit nauseas and that feeling didn’t go away.
I was sore for days, but – BUT, it was amazing and she was full of very useful information and advice. I should book another one to help get this tight shoulder stooping thing sorted out…but how awesome to get a sauna/soak, massage and then more sauna soaks?! Jealous. I don’t think anyone in a fifty mile radius of me offers that.
Yeah, that digging under the scapula is painful.
I wish I had the money to open my own spa so that we could offer the soak/massage/soak ritual. I wonder how much it would cost to do that?