Hurt Like MuthaF*cka

One Hour of Pain Sorry for the expletive. I can’t find other substitute to describe the pain I felt when I went for on hour massage for my injured foot. After some being advised from some elderly people, I dragged myself from the comfort of my couch to one Magnificent Healing House massage center at Sunway Mentari area. I was told that I must get rid of the “wind” and “blood clot” to improve healing by massage. My blood clot has worsened these few days and had spread to my toes. I have got black toes and they look like as if they were going to fall of anytime soon. I would do anything to speed up the healing process. I am already feeling very depressed for not able to run and especially not able to participate in the coming 24-hour walk event this weekend. The center was fairly clean and uncluttered. A row of armchairs greeted my when I entered. I was ushered to the washing area and had my feet soaked in warm water for a few minutes. Then, I plonked myself into one of the green armchair to begin my massage session. My masseur was a man, in his late thirties of early forties. Firstly, he applied Nivea Cream, for a perfect moisturizing effect, I think. Slowly, he worked the toes, my foot and my shin and calf area. It was painful but I still could take it. The deep massaged started. He oiled my foot with some Chinese medical ointment and started the massage. I had to wrestle away my leg from his grip, as I couldn’t bear the pain especially when he used his bare knuckles to rub forcefully into the swelling area. Mama!! I was writhing in my seat as he repeatedly attacks the affected area with his forceful strokes. To make it worse, the masseur little kid (see last photo) sadistically seated himself next to me to watch me helplessly reduced to a grunting and squealing wounded pig. Sun of a beach! I was miserable and regretted that I asked for one hour instead of a 40 minutes session. Horrible! Horrible! Why does something so awfully painful be good? Why me? Why does it have to hurt so badly? Stop whining, runwitme. You’re not having you balls removed.