She's an honest to goodness physical therapist, or used to be, that's hard on a body, literally, but she's got that training, and I like it, because I've been to too many bad masseuses, folks who learned towel management and not a lot more, I mean, really, I'm naked, you're rubbing my body, do you really think I care if you see my boobs?
But they have to manage those drapes, like, everywhere, it's the law. Whether or not they know anything about bodies or healing is another matter all together. It's why I like a physical therapist, if I know nothing else about the person, I know that at least she knows bodies.
The first time I saw her, I’d way whacked out my back, and anyone who’s ever had her back out of whack, sciatica wise, knows just how bad that can be. It wasn’t the worst I’ve ever had it, I’ve learned how not to move, and there was a time when I was flat out crippled, but it was bad, not crippling, but bad. It was snow shoveling sciatica.
I gimped my way in to her space, downstairs, and see said oh, and I started to explain and she said shusshed me and said “I’m familiar with the syndrome” or some such, and immediately went to work on my back and hips in ways painful and pleasurable, audible groans not optional.
And she totally fixed my back.
Then there was the time I walked in, hadn’t been in in months and months and it had been a rough time, thought I was dying in the interim, since I’d seen her, got over that, but it was still a rough path, and I walk in, and she says “I was wondering when you’d get here” or some such.
Saturday, probably the last time I’ll see Andrea, it was stress mode, not body stress, at all, pure heart and soul, that kind, and like, I walk in, and she knows. I mean, she’s like distressed, already, all into getting me in there, and then she works on my head and face and such for like, a really long time, before doing the rest of my body, mostly really gentle work.