day 1

It's been four years since I stepped foot in this place. It was time for me to move on. I had done several hundred massages here in less than a year and a change in the pay rules made it easy to leave and focus on massaging a higher-paying clientele with no risk of infection; limited contact with former drug addicts and schizophrenics; no more sad stories -- at least from people with aids (PWAs). 

And then within the year, the federal funds that enabled the massage therapy program to exist were no longer available. So nobody was doing massages there anymore. All the equipment was removed and the rooms were converted to other uses. After a number of years of free massages for PWAs who qualified -- proven beneficial treatment for their immune systems -- it was over. 

So it was sort of a shock to receive a call telling me that funds were procured for 200 massages if I wanted to take some of them. I was assigned 100 massages, and another massage therapist was assigned the remaining 100. 

Some of the people I worked on four years ago made indelible impressions on me. One in particular, G.T. He was a fairly well-known jazz musician with a predilection for cocaine and heroin. I listened to many stories he would tell me about famous people he knew. And he really knew music. He once told me, "never go out at night without your instrument," meaning not to miss a  chance to play if at all possible -- that's the way to improve and to create more opportunities to play. G.T. fell shortly after I stopped working there and passed on soon after. I remember him fondly and often. 

So here I am, Day One, beginning the first three of 100 massages of PWAs. I hope to pay closer attention to all of them and to relate their stories. 

To start with, there is no massage table -- I have to bring my own. That's no fun. They have sheets there since the facility has forty beds for residents as well as social services and education for many more non-residents.

Massage #1

As is not unusual, the first client does not show up nor call to cancel. I am assigned a resident to work on. Toothless, and looking more than a little bedraggled, most likely medicated, he willingly shuffles down the hallway to the massage room. This is his first massage and he is actually looking forward to it. 

He complained that his feet were bothering him at night -- felt like "electric shocks" which is a possible sign of neuropathy, possibly caused by some of the medications given to AIDS patients. Early on, AIDS patients were given high doses of AZT, a cancer drug, which caused irreparable harm to many patients and resulted in many deaths. I worked mostly on his feet.  He enjoyed the massage.

Massage #2

Someone I remember from four years ago. One of the more normal guys. Some of the non-residents are able to work and do so. Others are not able or simply not motivated. He has worked in the restaurant business for many years. Being a waiter takes its toll on your body. He's now getting involved in a cellphone business. It's an interesting change. I feel like it speaks of vitality and not giving up. Remaining positive in spite of disease. Taking what life gives you and dealing with it as effectively as possible. But in the back of your mind, you're dying of an incurable disease.

Massage #3

Another old-timer. This guy is a real character. I was never able to really figure him out. I think of him in some ways as a little boy. He's much older-looking now. Doesn't work -- not sure if he ever did. Specializes in finding free things. Has family in town on whom he depends for things. Always has some scheme, free movie passes, discount coupons to restaurants, etc. Good-natured guy. Happy, complains about how he feels a lot, but in the end, always grateful and positive. 

First day of massage is complete. I'm not sure how I feel. I remember some days there feeling like Superman, bringing relief to the sickest of the sick, and other days feeling very vulnerable. The next 97 massages should be interesting.