I arrive to the Assisted Living facility with table, sheets, bolster and CBD cream in tow. After parking, signing in and maneuvering all my supplies to the elevator, I have a quiet minute before the door opens at the second floor. I’m thinking. My next client is 92? Is he going to be able to get on the table? If so, is he going to be able to roll over? God knows I’ve dealt with helping immobile clients on and off the table and God bless nurses everywhere who daily face the heave-ho of patient movement.

Ding. Elevator door opens. I look down the hallway and see what could easily be any other apartment or condo building in the US. No nurses, no tell-tale smell, just well decorated doors with last names under each number. I pass doors with artificial flower arrangements, welcome signs and I smile at the Mezuzah that greets me at Mr Ron’s door.

Knock Knock Knock.

Whoops, there’s a door bell. Bing bong.

Nothin.

I’m right on time, and I’ve been warned, Mr Ron is hard of hearing. I wait.

After a few minutes of repeating the knock and the doorbell, I text his daughter. “Could your Dad be at lunch?” She affirms and says he always eats alone.

Next stop (minus gear) is the cafeteria.

Soooo I’ve never met Mr Ron before. I don’t know what he looks like and the caf is pretty busy.  Next. I interrupt a few more gentlemen dining alone then I see a fellow in the back with a hearing aid.
I approach the table and looking him right in the eyes I ask, “Hi! Is your name Ron?” Of course, I’m speaking rather loudly, so other people eating turn to look. He tilts his head, confused as to why I am even talking to him. With a big smile I ask again, “Hi. Is your name Ron?” Surprised, he says, “Yes it is.” Still speaking louder than my regular inside voice I explain, “My name is Jodi. I’m here to work with you.” He immediately raises his finger and says “Oh right!” His plate is full, so we agree with a combo of charades and sign language I’ll go get set up and he’ll come up after he’s finished with lunch.

I walk up to the first gentleman I see eating alone, “Hello, is your name Ron?” He says “No, my name is Robert.” Swing and a miss.

Using a cane and the wall for balance, Mr. Ron enters the room. There is some greeting as I’m holding one finger in the air to indicate wait a minute. He passes by me and proceeds to lay face down on the table without taking off a stitch of clothing. Alrighty then. He has no problem getting on the table. To avoid any confusion I decide to begin.

The session flows smoothly. Mr Ron loves to receive. With permission, I am able to work directly on the skin on his areas of pain. I work around the left hip and glute. Im surprised, his tissue is sturdy; his skin has a solid texture. He is quite vocal thru out the session with loud oooooo’s and ahhhhhhh’s. My heart is full of appreciation for this session. What a gift it is to be able to deliver pleasure to such a seasoned, experienced man. What history is in his cells. What joy, sadness; what a wealth of experiences.

Mr. Ron says he hasn’t felt this good in years. “I feel like I’m 40!” The work (massage work) is precious. I share this story with you as a reminder to embrace the clients Spirit puts on your path. Remember Divine Order. You may have a gift for them, but they may have a gift for you.

Namaste.

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