My Massage Therapist

Last night, lying in bed, trying to claim sleep, sleep eluded me. My body was spent; both my shoulders felt like they were on fire. I was exhausted and tired.

Nestled under all the warm blankets, I gave into the pain and started to cry.

Winston (formerly named Webster, to which he was not responding; he likes Winston better) was on top of his Blanket Mountain (what I like to call a stack of blankets placed on top of the chest that stands alongside the back of the bed.) I felt a gentle plop on the bed as he jumped down and approached. 

I found myself silently praying: “Dear Lord, please don’t let him walk all over me right now.”

With all my nerves misfiring inside my hand, arms and shoulder, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle even the tiny bit of weight of this kitten.

Winston is quite the Purr Factory. I call him my “Endless Purrer.” He was purring as he drew nearer. The closer he got, the more the purrs changed in their timbre. They became deeper, richer, purer in tone.

Winston lie down beside my right arm. This is the same arm I had surgery on in May. His body was horizontal, and his head was pointed in my direction. He started kneading me. Scooting his body sideways, he worked himself up and down my right arm with just his head resting gently on my arm. To me, it almost felt like he was playing scales on a piano. Back and forth, up and down. I could feel his purrs resonate inside my arm, shoulder and hand. Listening to his kitty lullaby, lulled by the gentle massage of paws with no claws extended, I fell asleep.

In the morning when I woke up, Winston was asleep, snuggled next to my arm. At that moment, oh, how I wished that I had a usable right hand where I could reach out and pet him. (Not quite yet, still working on that challenge).

Why was I so tired the night before? I received an unexpected New Year’s blessing, one that allowed me to order cat food, cat litter, warming beds for the cats. By the time I was wrestling all the boxes into my house, my nerves were burning and crackling from all the lifting and wrestling boxes into their proper places.

There were so many boxes by my front door, I had a hard time walking over to the door to shut it. Although I was so sore, I could hardly move, I felt an incredible warmth build up inside of me towards the  amazing gift spread out before me.

The gift was quite timely. I am getting ready to have a second surgery on my left shoulder. I believe the surgeon is planning on doing it next month. I have to have a CAT scan first.

As I type this, I wonder if I’m crazy? Although it’s with a different surgeon, my prayer is that after this surgery,  I will have a usable left hand instead of a near useless one.

But now I am ready. For all the people, my villagers who are gathering around me once again, ready to go through another round of post surgery care. Not only for me, but for my cats and my dog. I have all the food I think to get through the 16 weeks of being on couch arrest. Just the thought of the person with such warm generosity: this removes some of the stress from off my shoulders.

I know tonight when I lay down to go to sleep, Winston will once again snuggle with me. If I happen to break down in the middle of the night, I am sure my massage therapist is standing by, ready to go to work and purr me back to sleep.