Issue link: https://www.massageandbodyworkdigital.com/i/1208028
Ta k e 5 a n d t r y A B M P F i v e - M i n u t e M u s c l e s a t w w w. a b m p . c o m / f i v e - m i n u t e - m u s c l e s . 79 it also made my heart hurt to feel how locked up he was. What difference could I make in my 15-minute time slot? A few times I tried the more-is-more approach (you know the one . . . whomp, whomp, whomp with the hands! Just a bit more of a squeeze with the squeeze. "That's too much," he'd murmur, eyes closed, drifting. In a setting where it's hard to elicit feedback (even though it's terribly important), I always knew where I stood with Earl, and after a while I knew what to do. One of the joys of working with teenagers is when they start with you as freshmen and carry through to their senior year. If for no other reason, it's vastly amusing to see how much they change from the ages of 14–18. Really nothing changed about Earl. He always had on the same kind of Carhartts, the lace-up work boots that took forever for him to unlace and remove (and then reverse the process before he left), the same neutral T-shirts and pretty much the same hair, come to think of it—except he grew, practically a foot by the time he left this spring. This past year, Earl got a concussion at a wrestling meet that truncated his season, and I was concerned. I slathered him in an over-the-counter icy/hot rub one week, hoping to further reduce his pain and soreness (besides the concentrated massage I did all through his upper half). "You can't use that this week," he told me. "Last week I took a shower later and it went down my backside down my crack." Withholding a guffaw, after working on him, I used a different OTC rub—this one full of arnica and less "zesty," shall we say. "That smells like butt," he informed me as I applied it with my customary earnestness and zeal. I apologized, looked for a moist towelette to remove it from his skin, and got a wicked case of the giggles when I saw my co-volunteer Derek was also trying not to laugh. I got to see Earl one last time before 2019 graduation, and when he left, I pretty much said, "Toodle-oo ! Have a great life!" There are some kids you work with who cling to you in their departure, who meet you in a moment where you both briefly acknowledge what the past few years have been. If I made a difference for Earl, it was unspoken. For sure, I know I gave him a brief nap for four years, twice a month (weather permitting). And, now he knows he likes massage. Which is good information for anyone, especially a 19-year-old welder. In a recent edition of Massage & Bodywork magazine the editors asked the question: "Only 18 percent of the US population receives a massage each year. How do we increase that percentage?" Maybe we're not massaging more people because we're not meeting them where they are physically, geographically, and financially. I ask a lot of my fellow Americans to schedule a session, show up at my office, lie down on my table for 60-plus minutes, and risk getting a service. Then, I ask them to shell out money and lost time in the midst of their insane day—all in the name of practicing "self-care." We like to champion our industry as non-luxury—as health care worth standing on its own in the health-care world—which I agree with 100 percent. I also understand that no matter what I think about therapeutic massage and its awesomeness and benefits (and that "everybody deserves a massage"), not a lot of people— especially where I live—can afford one. Even the very thought of trying to afford one stresses them out. The only way I know to charm the greater public with the benefits of massage therapy is to take myself out of my safe office and put myself where they are. For me, that's maintaining my local wellness room and seeing kids like Earl for free. A huge part of working with Earl was getting over my need to be anything other than what I was in that moment—a caring pair of hands that knew his infrastructure. He could rely on me, and thereby totally rest. Working in silence, I imagined I was like Earl—always steady under whatever amazing machine he is given to repair on a given day. He doesn't look too far ahead. He just focuses on what is there in front of him—and he does something about it.