Some jobs you don’t retire from. Like Touch and Talk Therapy. Even when we’ve decided that we will no longer do it for as a source of income, we will always be surrounded by folks who need a touch or a listening ear. And there are some jobs you can’t retire from. I dare say Motherhood is one. I was at work when a mother approached me and explained that she would like me to massage her son who is involved in sports and injured himself. I suggested that I could see him the next day as I had another appointment elsewhere immediately after this one. She advised that she could take me to him and it would just be a short visit. They just want some help to ascertain whether he needed an x-ray. I know it’s never that simplistic, but I agreed. She called him in my presence trying to communicate that they need to take advantage of my willingness to see him now, but he was arguing that my impromptu visit would put him in a bad light since his room was what it was. She insisted and he relented.
So off I went with Mom to see the son. When I got there he practically crawled out of his room to another where the atmosphere was pleasant. But given the pain he was in he would have been better off remaining where he was. The lower right leg was injured. I used very light touch and he kept spring up when I touched the lateral side. I had him like prone and bent the knee so that his sole faced the ceiling. Tried again; significant pain along the medial part of the ankle…flexor retinaculum and about ten inches above. Lateral side: tibialis anterior, peroneus longus, and lateral gastroc. As I went deeper it felt as if there was loose tissue moving between the fibula and tibia close to the head. I had him exhale as I went up the leg. The exhalation was abandoned each time as he flew up again and again. I stopped and examined the leg. He had a bulge on his great toe. Bunion? No. Injury from years ago that was left to heal as is. Hmmm. A much larger bulge on the anterior thigh. Pressed into it. What happened here? Muscle ruptured years ago and left to heal as is. Hmmm. Not sure why his mother is fatiguing herself with him now if his definition of manhood is to accumulate battle scars. Maybe because he is over 40 now and healing comes at a different pace.
Okay! Let’s do this. Returned to the medial ankle, flattened my thumbs and dragged. He survived. I allowed him to settle down and advised each time I restarted. Eventually he found it bearable. Good. Lateral aspect now. Oh, I didn’t tell you how he got injured. A bad tackle during some old man football game. I had no idea there was a good tackle. Okay, let’s go again. I kept draining the leg from ankle to knee, then moved in on the gastroc, which was super painful, and the corresponding areas along the peroneus and tibialis, which were super super painful. I felt exhausted for him. The AC was on, but I was sweating and I was not physically working hard. We took a break, then tried yet again. The leg was much softer and the pain further reduced. This allowed me to zoom in further and found two spots that were still able to make him fly. I compressed one and told him to let me know when the pain reduced. It didn’t. Tried the other. It didn’t. I told him I want to believe that the bruising on the inside, where the muscles interface with the bone, might be extended to nerve tissue. We called it a day and I suggested leaf-of-life to help prevent hematoma, or reduce what was there that we could not see. That was not part of their garden offering so the mother said she would get some.
Alright, time to move. Mom said she will get me safely to the next appointment. Wanted to know how much was her son’s bill. Goodness me. Some mothers never let up their role. He didn’t ask. I told her there was no bill. Well, since we are not going to talk about money, we might as well talk about money. So she mentioned a mutual acquaintance who is a Doctor. He is such a promising young man that she has adopted him. He’s from foreign and took up a lesser appointment while hoping for a government position. Each time we met there were polite salutations. He seemed like a nice guy. One day he stopped me and asked my name. Said everyone refers to me as ‘the Therapist’ and up until that moment that was sufficient for him. I told him and learnt his. On another occasion he complained of aching feet and I offered to massage them should he find the time. He did, and I did.
Having not seen him in a while I figured he has returned to his homeland. I did not ask. Now fate was deciding it was time for me to find out. She took the long route to my destination to allow for articulation to her satisfaction for she was hurt. He stayed at a house where fellow professional shared the facilities. Then one day he decided to browse dating sites and came upon an appealing female. Talk led to talk which led her to his gate. They spent the night together, but not as satisfactorily as she desired because the living arrangement did not include privacy as an option. She suggested that their next date be elsewhere. Well, Mom has been guiding him on savings and the likes, and they decided on a figure that would be reasonable in the event that he develops immigration difficulties. So he went to her and requested money to facilitate the second date. She enquired about the young lady and alarm bells went off when she heard what she heard. She felt that the young lady felt she had landed herself a money man since he was a Doctor, and she was going to fleece him. But, it was his money, so she gave the amount requested.
About a week after he returned to her requesting more money with the reason being that the lady has found a place for them to live. Naturally, funds are needed to pay the rent. Living together after two dates was something her old-fashion mind could fathom, so she went into counseling mode. He still wanted the money. She gave him. A few days later he returned saying they had to buy groceries for the house so he needed more cash. She gave him. Less than a week after he returned again. Said it was the lady’s birthday and he wanted to buy her a gold bracelet. This time she gave him all that remained. He said he did not want that much. She refused to be his bank any longer. So once again she had him sign as receiving X amount of money. There was silence for a while. Then he brought the young lady for her to see. A slender brown-skinned skimpily-clothed braless tattooed young lady. Her appearance made conversation difficult. He disappeared again.
Then one of the other professionals from the common home visited Mom requesting that she make efforts to speak to Doc as they felt he was slipping down a drain pipe. Sex and weed have been daily staples and he has been showing up for work in rumpled clothing and rubber slippers. During this discourse Mom also learnt that his newfound love had brief relations with two of the other professionals before. The two had no idea they had dated the same woman, but now that Doc was flaunting the lady about, this fact was realized and conversations of concern began to catch like fire as she is not considered long-term material, she’s a business woman and he has to get that through his head. Mom agreed to talk to him. The next time he called she tried, but he only wanted money. She reminded him that he took all that was left. He knew, but he wanted to borrow from her. She is a pensioner. What is there to borrow? He said she has a nice house so she must have some savings. Ha! I love this. Oh, sorry. Yes, so she reminded him that her husband is ill and she has been caring for him which is costly. He advised her that she was the only mother he had on this side of the globe and he has no one else to turn to for help.
She lectured him on what dating should be like and that he did too much too early, and that she was told that he is now smoking weed, and that he turns up for work in rumpled clothing and rubber slippers and how disappointed she was at his behaviour. She wanted to know how he could let himself spend exorbitantly on a woman who has no care about how he appears in public. When she was done talking, he said the same thing…he wants more money. She dismissed him. Within a few days of having that conversation he showed up at his workplace with a carload of his personal items. Said he had no place to stay, no money to spend, and was hungry. The lady, who is also a foreigner from that large English-speaking Caribbean island, put him out the house in which they had not lived a month together. Said she had expectations of what it means to be espoused to a Doctor and he was not measuring up. Gosh! The grapes on this vine sour. But I heard that’s only because it’s not a tropical fruit and the climate here is not suitable. Next time I’ll listen to stories from the pumpkin vine.
What do I tell you now? I can say that by the time I was done with my client and returned home to rest, Mom was calling to book a formal appointment for the next day. Her son was up and about and she wanted me to keep striking the iron while it was hot. Well, because I know her I would go with the proverb, but for anyone else I would have requested an explanation. Anyway, good for him…that he was up…had and iron…and it was hot. I did return to see him next morning with a little bag of leaf-of-life. Did the massage, during which he was able to chat online. Nice. Tested the two sore points and they were as alive as ever. Okay. We spent a full hour and I did both feet and legs, with the most time being on the areas of concern. Then his Dad lit the stove and I passed the leaves over the fire, put them in a saucer and returned to my client. I put on his compression stocking and placed the leaves inside. This time he seemed like a friendly person. The day before I knew he wanted to kick me straight out the gate.
As for those grapes… Still working them over in my mind. I feel something, possibly empathy, but it’s mixed with other feelings and I am trying to separate the strands. Like the old woman with the crystal ball, I can say: I see something. Yes, as I part the strands something is emerging. Ah, yes! I see it clearer now. Paradise… Eden. And it has a door. My goodness! The woman is the door. Hmmm. Now I’m not sure what’s the fuss about the Doctor’s welfare. He’s obviously in that zone where it is known on some level that woman is the way of salvation. The bright guys have long said that Eden is sex, and Adam left Eden through a particular exit called woman. As he passed through she was the horizontal and he was the vertical. And they were one. A cross. Salvation is through the cross. Not so? I guess they were stuck together in total unity and he could not tell himself from hers. Ah! Then the meddling Gods separated her while he slept. And when he awoke and saw her, there, away from him, he got up and went over to her and he said like the drunkard: I will do it yet again. So he took her and advised her that she is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. Basically, we belong in each other. So come on honey, let’s make the sign of the cross again. X marks the spot…where we join.
If the Creators did not make woman Adam would have been shining apples right now and having walks and talks with the Gods along the streams. And apparently, even in Paradise that gets boring. So, yes, the way out is the way in. And the Doctor, long recognizing that he is on the outside, simply tried for a way in. And who better than a woman/door that has allowed access to many? She is the euphoric way, though sometimes euphorically painfully, and even painfully euphoric. But she was the exit, and from this side of things, is now the entrance to Eden. Take it or leave it. Yea, so the thing I feel the most is euphoria as I shout from the balcony of the largest stadium: Go, Doc! Go! And he might as well. Because all those folks who talking about Kundalini and Pentecostal Fire and Holy Spirit talking about the same thing. And Doc, don’t you worry about people saying she’s a bad woman, because the whole time you here in Trinidad the good women hesitating. Your salvation can’t wait.