Plugging Massage

Many years ago, when I met The Man, he was living with a lovely woman who was, as I found out, a Registered Massage Therapist. She became a good friend over the years, and at one point many years ago, also became my massage therapist. It's fantastic for migraines, at least for mine, because I carry a great deal of stress in my shoulders and neck, which -- if not the cause -- certainly makes the migraines a great deal worse. 

It was a strange thing, I admit, being massaged by someone who I also ate dinner with once in a while, but she is so professional and casual about it that I ceased to worry. And now that, a few years back when we asked her to come to the birth of her child, I no longer have anything to hide from her given the unfortunate position she had at the moment of birth. She was traumatized, she said, for weeks afterwards. After that, touching my back and shoulders really is small potatoes.

It was during the pregnancy, though, that the efficacy of massage really came through for me. I had been suffering All-Day Sickness for a few weeks, sickness that would start around 11am and last until I went to sleep, and I was fairly miserable with it, refusing all dinner and feeling horrid when The Man would cook something out of starving desperation. One evening I went for a massage and for the first time in weeks I actually felt hungry -- not just lack of nausea, I actually felt hungry. 

We went out for a meal.

The migraines have been worse again recently, so I went this morning for another massage. An hour of nice conversation and muscle manipulation, and I spent the rest of the day feeling pleasantly pummeled. A good start to the weekend. 

And after all that, the reason my extended health covers this lovely process is because of the migraines. I guess it's true that every cloud does have a silver lining.