Fingers of Gold. (aka How do YOU spell relief? I spell it J-A-C-K.)

I graduated from a small high school in a valley in, um, Oregon.  We had about 200 in our graduating class (give or take) and I can say with a tad bit of certainty that I knew each person by name.  (They didn’t vote me the most outgoing for nothing.  However, that and two bits still won’t get you on the homecoming court.  Dang it.)

Through the amazing miracle called Facebook, I have been able to reconnect with many of these friends, and then some.  It’s like a cool cocktail party each night on my dining room table, and I don’t even have to take a shower or wear a cute party dress.

I’ve recently reconnected with an old friend we’ll call Jack.  He was a great guy, one who always had a smile, an amazing laugh and was an important member of the offensive line on our football team.  He went on to become a successful physical therapist/chiropractor/miracle man who just happened to relocate back home and has an office in the old hometown.

How convenient.

As you may recall, my many years of competitive gymnastics have taken many a toll on this still fairly YOUNG body (cough).  Oh sure, over the last two years I’ve managed to lose almost 30 pounds thanks to yoga, hiking, divorce trauma and the fear that someone at SOME point might see me naked.  (That particular kind of fear is a miracle diet pill.  Trust me.)  

However, this crazy body is still hurting.  I’ve had carpal tunnel surgeries, a torn meniscus, knee surgery, physical therapy and more shin/knee issues.  I’ve spent a lot of time these last several weeks undergoing crazy sonograms of my legs/veins/groin and other areas too ticklish to mention.  Nada. 

“You might want to try physical therapy to help with your groin and shin issues,” said the young, handsome doctor who apparently didn’t know me very well.

“Listen,” I said, “I’ve been doing every form of exercise under the SUN, and some others I won’t mention here, and I don’t think that’s the answer.  But thanks, I’ll think about it and I’ll get back to you."

And as I left I thought of Jack.

It festered around my brain for a bit, and that night I sent him a message on Facebook.  He was, after all, a very successful physical therapist of some kind.  I think I said something about a pain in my groin, and wondered if he could help me.   He replied quickly and said yes, he would love to and asked where we should meet.  I told him to come on over to my house.  He responded quickly that the plan sounded great, and I’d see him when I got back from vacation.

And then I realized what I’d said.   

What kind of crazy stalker was I?  A pulled groin?  A massage at my house?  In my LIVING ROOM?  Oh sweet Jesus.

I emailed him.  I tried clumsily to explain, and crossed my fingers.

Last night he showed up.  He called me from the driveway after I had just unpacked from my trip, and I ran out the front door.  His six foot four inch frame exited the truck and walked to the back of his truck and he lifted out his table. 

After an incredible REAL LIVE massage using a technique called “Myofacial Release” my body felt better than it has in years; years!  I was able to walk without the pain in areas that hadn’t been pain free in years.  He showed me exercises, scheduled several more times to come over, and explained exactly what had been happening to my body.  It was amazing.

And he never ONCE mentioned my clumsy, hysterical first effort to get him into my living room to massage my groin.

Thank God.