Searching for a Good Masseuse

Before a midlife melanoma cancer scare, my only knowledge of massage came from Men’s magazine references to “massage parlors,” preferably in the Far East; the magazines cited Thailand. 

There’s nothing like a brush with death, though, to make you more clearly examine life.  I can’t say that my experience evoked the immediacy of the Russian roulette scenes in the movie, “The Deer Hunter,” which shook me to my core every time I thought of them for years afterward.  Nonetheless, I thought about many things more clearly, after my night-nurse signed off on me, the night before my operation, by saying to another nurse, “too bad he’s going to die,” thinking I was asleep.  It was hard to get asleep.

Post-Op I decided to “Smell the Roses”.  So, when my doctor, Michael Gerber of Mill Valley, told me that, besides my vitamin injections, iridology, reflexology, and biofeedback training, I needed weekly massage therapy treatments, specifically addressing my lymphatic system, I said, “Okay,” without question.

I started on my path to massage enlightenment with his recommendation of a person in Mill Valley who was expensive and inconvenient.  Since part of my regimen with Dr. Gerber was a healthy diet, I gathered a list of San Francisco massage practitioners, who had posted advertisements on bulletin boards of Vegan restaurants and health food stores.

Living anywhere in the western free world, an early-acquired skill is parsing advertising messages.  We expect sophistication, but I was reading ads from hippies, hookers, and new-age freaks.  Most were incompetent.  I mean that my expectation was a combined euphoric/healthy feeling afterward, and a general sense of time not wasted.  This was rarely evident. 

After several “bored-housewife,” and “girl-next-door” backrubs, an ad lured me by promised Esalen-type hot-tub luxury.  It started with a l-e-n-g-t-h-y backrub followed by an application of some sort of sports cream, like Vicks.  This burned like hell, and was mostly applied it to my nether regions.  Following this was a proposal.  I declined; now ready to give up the quest for a sincere masseuse.

No!  Wait!  They do exist.  But they are rare.

By sheer luck, I found a woman who knew about lymphatic massage.  She was augmenting her salary downtown, not trying to get rich off me.  We worked together previously in the Financial District at an investment firm.

This was all long before I went to massage school, but keep in mind I was motivated by survival, so I learned some massage basics at Dr. Gerber’s Holistic center.  Two fluid flow systems of health concern post-cancer are oxygenating outward blood flow, and inward lymphatic flow for toxin removal.  The point of the massage is to stimulate these systems to optimal levels of performance. 

The “good” feelings are a nice side effect.

 

I began a period of becoming a connoisseur of massage with accoutrements like hot tubs, wraps, and showers. I had a wonderful place along Union Street in the Marina.  Just a hole in the wall, but they had a hot tub, a small shower and tables for two masseuses.  I always felt so good afterwards; I would stop in a sushi bar and have some eel or octopus.

But it ended when I moved to England.  I couldn’t find anything other than military or sports massages: “Lift your leg, higher! Higher!”  All the spas were for women and they were loath to find a male in their midst.  I stopped getting massages.

I arrived back in the Bay Area after a decade.  I was busy with a wife and kids, so it wasn’t until they left me and went back to England that I even had time for massage.  My sister had been using someone for massages for several years.  For my birthday, my sister gave me a 3-massage gift certificate with her masseuse.  Massage was quickly a habit again and I started going once a week for a full hour’s massage.  I learned that massage can become addictive and that the personal bonds become deep over time.

The years passed and I found a new masseuse closer to my house and work in San Mateo.  That was Barbara Zaller, who I went to for several years, until my move to Sonoma County.  I eventually went to Massage School in Santa Rosa, but only after unsuccessful attempts at finding someone local at the Russian River.  After Susie Garber of Rosemarie’s, I tried Cyndee Green for a few months but she was into her new business in Guerneville.  My neighbor recommended Gina Woods.  She was perfect and lasted about eighteen months.  She went to India, gone for several years.  I was working and tried to blend a little housecleaning, meal preparation and massage with Jody Ann Cafferata; also Diane Timmerman.  None of them lasted. 

I decided to become a certified massage therapist when I retired.  I put all my effort into the months of massage school, and the ensuing years of books, practice, and training.  I studied anatomy, learning all the components of the lymphatic system.  I practiced technique and discovered that I worked well with older people.  I felt I was mindful, aware, and in tune with my clients.  My focus was still lymphatic massage, an excellent modality for detoxing, which was relevant to my local clients around the River.  I most enjoyed doing the yoga massages, though.  It’s great for the older clients who have difficulty bending and stretching.  With Thai massage, the practitioner assists the client into yoga poses for specific massage work.

Before middle age, I never thought of giving massages, only getting them.  After middle age, I was enjoying giving massages rather than getting them. Good massage releases energy.  The counter-intuitive fact is that both bodies can benefit from this freshly released energy.  I usually feel energized after giving a massage.

When I learned to give massages, I rather got out of the habit of getting them.  When I retired and couldn’t afford to pay to get massages anymore, I was only giving them.

Now I rarely do either.