Metal Mouth and Another Dead Cop

Taking a break from the topic of massage therapy, I am proud to say that I am no longer one of the metal mouth masses. After nearly a year of wiry hell, I finally have gotten my braces off. I woke up at the crack of dawn, well 7 AM anyway, and battled downtown hectic traffic to my orthodontist’s building. Prepared for a three hour appointment, I was surprised I did not have to wait at all to be seen. When I was fully reclined in the weird mint-colored ortho-chair my orthodontist just started popping off my brackets one by one with an intense pair of dental pliers. Thanking God I popped three ibuprofen ahead of time, I closed my eyes and patiently waited the seven minutes it took to pop off the whole top row. Then came the scraping. I was tempted once to open my eyes, half expecting to see a man with devilish glare poised above my head with a chisel and pickaxe, but decided to keep them close and bit his finger in my anxiety. Oops. Next came the sanding. There must be some weird inner circle of hell reserved for orthodontists who enjoy sanding down their patient’s teeth. It was awful. I had no breathing tube on my nose so I felt like I was inhaling tooth dust and aerated cement (and probably was). Thank God that only took five minutes or so. Then they sent me to brush and rinse my teeth to remove all of the dusty residue. For the first time in almost a year, I saw my teeth (top row anyway) au natural. I kept moving my lips around, not believing that that horrible dental monstrosity they call braces was actually gone. After admiring them in the mirror for an embarrassing amount of time, I return to my torture chair for another round with the bottom row. The doctor removed my bottom wire and brackets, chiseled off the glue, and proceeded with the same sanding routine he had done with my top row. After biting him hard a second time, I took a deep breath and relaxed. Then they cemented a solid, flat wire behind my bottom four center teeth and called it a “permanent  retainer.” I’m told to brush my teeth again and then I have to bite into this raspberry flavored goo mixture to create an impression for my permanent upper retained. Then the dental assistant sits me down and instructs me on how, when, and why to use my retainer, etc. I make a follow-up appointment and finally get to leave…with my mouth metal free!!

 On another note, I have noticed a truly disturbing trend that is happening around the Tampa Bay area. Police officers are getting killed on the job left and right. I wanted to mention this because another officer had his life taken from him just a few days ago in St. Pete. Ofc. David Crawford was shot four times in the chest by a 16 year-old on Monday night. He was holding a pen and pad in his hand, writing down information at the time of his shooting, according to foxnews.com. A month ago two Tampa officers were shot and killed while trying to serve a warrant. Officers Jeffrey Yaslowitz and Thomas Baitinger died on the 31^st of last month, one at the scene of the shootout and another later on at the hospital (prefferedbypete.com). About eight months ago, David Curtis and Jeffrey Kocab of the Tampa Police Department passed away at a traffic stop. They were both 31 years old. Losing one officer on the job within one year is a tragedy, but five in one year is just ridiculous. There has to be an end to all of these senseless killings. Every time I heard about another officer getting killed I thought, “Again?” Hopefully the death of Crawford several days ago will be the last death in the string of fallen officers in the area.

http://preferredbypete.com/world-news/31197-thousands-mourn-slain-st-petersburg-police-officers-thomas-baitinger-jeffrey-yaslowitz.html

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/02/22/st-petersburg-police-officer-killed-shooting/

http://www.cbsnews.com/2300-504083_162-10003927.html

Typical Day

Today was a whirlwind. There was a residual flow of business from Valentine’s Day; lots of couples came in that couldn’t get a chance to come in together during the workweek. Thank goodness there was room assignments!! A typical day operates as follows: I show up to work fifteen minutes early (any later than that and you are technically considered as coming in late), find an empty locker to put my purse in, and then go up to the front desk. Once there, I sign myself up to a room on the sign in sheet and get my cream and holster. Then, I go back to the break room where the lockers are and look at the flatscreen computer monitor they have that shows all of the appointments for the day. When my client arrives, their name is underlined and that way I know that they are up front. If there is a little folder image next to their name that means they are filling out paperwork. At top of the hour, say 4:00, I walk up front and find the client’s medical chart at the side of the front desk to review their medical history and make notes for the session. With chart in hand, I walk over to the sitting area and call out my client’s name. Once they identify themselves, I greet them with a smile, handshake, and introduction. I then invite them to follow me and lead them to the assigned room I am in for the day. The first question I ask is what kind of massage they want. Since I can only do Swedish and Deep Tissue I just ask them which one they want. It’s about half and half as far as responses go. Then I ask them what “areas of concern” they have, or if anything is bothering them. Most commonly the responses are the neck, shoulders, and low back. Then I instruct them to disrobe to their level of comfort and get under the sheet and blanket face down with their face in the face piece. On their chart I write “RMH” (meaning I reviewed their medical history) and either “FBSM” (for full body Swedish massage), or “FBDT” (for full body deep tissue). Then I make a comment on what their problem areas were and sign my initials at the bottom. I leave them to disrobe, make notes on their chart, turn the chart in to the front desk so it can be filed, fill up my cream, go to the break room and wash my hands, and then return to the room where I give a knock and then go in. As Jack Meagher puts it, "Massage is the study of anatomy in braille.(massagenerd)" I agree that massage is about learning the body in a physical way because my massaging experience confirms it.
The hour long massages are actually fifty minutes hands on time so it starts at five after the hour, say 4:05. I end the session at 4:55, go to the break room to wash my hands/arms, rush up to the front waiting room to get them a cup of water, go to the linen cupboards and get a clean face piece cover and two flat sheets, and return to outside the room to wait for them to get out. This is always a tense period of time. I’m just hoping to death that they don’t take forever getting dressed and mess up my entire day’s schedule. As soon as they emerge, groggy and sleepy-eyed, I hand them their water and instruct them to drink plenty of it through out the day in order to flush out all of the toxins that were released in the massage. They thank me, sometimes hand me a cash tip (half the time its on credit card), and walk away. As quickly as possible, I rush in the room, rip off the used sheets and face piece, throw them on the floor by the door, wipe down the face cradle with a Clorox wipe, and redress the table with the fresh sheets. I take the dirty sheets to the laundry cabinet and put them in the dirty pile, then run to the break room and stare at the computer screen. I find my column, scan it for my next client’s name, and then rush up front, find their chart and begin again. I am a “4/6” which means I can do four massages in a row with a maximum of six for the entire day. Upon my hiring, I was able to tell my boss how many massages in a row I was comfortable doing and that’s what they set it at. At the end of the day after I change the sheets of the last client, I simply go up front, turn in my cream and holster, ask for tips (some clients leave cash tips in an envelope when they checkout), and say my goodbyes.

http://www.massagenerd.com/Quotes_of_Massage.html

Happy Endings and Human Trafficking

I recently recieved a comment inquiring if I do "happy endings". First of all I would just like to say how excited I am to have recieved a comment (yayyyyyyy!!!!). Secondly, no - real massage therapy is strictly therapeutic. For those of you who don't know, a happy ending is ....(I'm looking it up on Google right now, hold on)...when a "massuese" finishes a massage session with either oral sex or manual release....ew. Unfortunately, there are many women (and men) out there that pose as massage therapists when they are, in fact, sex workers. They advertise things like “erotic massage,” “full body service,” “table shower,” or “oriental massage.” It is almost always called a “massage parlor.”It really frustrates me that this occurs because it brings such a bad name to massage therapy and portrays the idea that anyone who does muscle work is a hooker of some sort. This simply is not true.
            There is a tragic side to this kind of prostitution. Massage parlors are a hotbed of human trafficking, specifically sex trafficking. Over 95% of reported sex offers/acts (that occur during a massage session) in the state of Florida come from women of Oriental descent. They are brought from China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, etc. under the promise of working jobs in the hospitality industry, hotel business, etc. only to learn upon arrival to the U.S. that their job has changed and they owe a large debt for their travel expenses. They are told that they will work it off by performing sexual acts on men for a set price in these parlors. Most have locked gates and security systems so the girls are not able to get out. These victims are often threatened, coerced, given drugs, and abused in order to keep them obedient and quiet. The saddest thing about this increasing epidemic is that many of the victims are children. Some parlors even have an added charge to customers who request children. Although I am very disappointed that my profession is mixed up in stereotypes of prostitution, I just feel so sad by the fact that this is happening all around us. It can happen in any state. It can happen in any neighborhood. It can happen next door. My point is, it happens. To learn more or to find out how you can help visit www.humantrafficking.org.

Trafficking articles:

http://articles.sfgate.com/2007-05-18/bay-area/17244817_1_massage-parlors-asian-massage-human-trafficking
http://news.infoshop.org/article.php?story=2008lydersen-trafficking
http://readingeagle.com/article.aspx?id=158807
http://www.texasmonthly.com/2010-04-01/feature3.php
http://www.polarisproject.org/human-trafficking/sex-trafficking-in-the-us/massage-parlors

The Beginning

I walked into my new job through the front double doors leading into the lobby. I donned black scrubs from my old chiropractor job because I didn’t have my Massage Envy shirt yet. As soon as I was a foot inside the lobby I experienced a slight sensation of wanting to turn around and run as far away as I could get. The lobby was a zoo, packed to the limit with people vying for the attention of a front desk associate or squashed together on the purple furniture. One day after Christmas might not have been an ideal day to start work. Oh well. I politely fought my way to the hallway doors which eventually led to the break room. There were half a dozen therapists in there moving around so quickly that it looked like a drone of hornets having a freaking seizure. Upon seeing me however, I was greeted very warmly with an introduction, smile, and handshake which lessened my nerves just slightly. Taking a look at the break room computer, I realized I had a massage lined up to start in ten minutes with a Wilton Smith. Immediately I felt like I had been socked in the stomach. I was so used to giving thirty minute massages (and on only one area like a bad knee or a whiplashed neck) that I had gotten really rusty with certain techniques. The clock kept creeping towards top of the hour so I tracked down a manager who helped me find an empty room (it would at least take me a week or two more to learn to whole room assignment thing but we’ll get to that in another post). I then frantically trudge to the side of the lobby desk where the client files are kept and select mine from the bunch. After reviewing his medical history I walk out to the area where the couches are and call out: “Wilton?” A man in his mid forties stands up, smiles, walks towards me. I brighten up my face, welcome him with a greeting and a handshake and then tell him to follow me. Once in the room I ask him what his areas of concern are. He listed his upper back and neck as his primary areas of pain. I leave him to disrobe to his level of comfort and get underneath the sheets face down. After returning his chart to the lobby desk I wash my hands and knock on the door to make sure he was not still undressing. He says, “I’m good!” and I walk in the room, adjusting the foot pillow, face cradle, and heating pad to his desired level. As soon as I began massaging his back a lot of my skills from school flooded back into my head and I felt infinitely more confident. Scared of course, but still confident. I finally make it through the fifty minutes (which felt like fifty days) and excuse myself so he could dress. I washed my hands, grabbed fresh sheets, a face cradle cover, a cup of water, and wait outside the door like a friendly stalker (or so it felt like). He emerges, groggy and sleepy-eyed, and says it was a great massage. Hearing that felt so good, but him handing my twenty bucks felt even better. After a couple more massages my boss (sensing that I was still overwhelmed) decides to send me home several hours early. My heart leaps at this and I think I looked a little too enthusiastic about it. I return to the front desk, turn in my cream and holster, and check out. I get my purse from a locker in the break room, say goodbye to the strange faces that don’t have names I can remember, and walk out to my car. After taking a few deep breaths and congratulating myself on a first day well (enough) done, I start my engine and head home with a smile on my face.

What's It Like?

People always ask me the same question - what is it like to be a massage therapist? My answer to that question is this blog. My goal is to give you a real look at the day to day life of a working massage therapist. I’ll expose the stereotypes, misconceptions, dirt, and glam to show it as it really is – and the only way I can is to start at the beginning…