Contents
😉 Hello dear readers! Thank you for choosing an article on this site! This story of the masseur proves once again when the power of love and unbreakable faith work wonders! Here’s the story:
Six months ago a woman called me.
– A colleague at work gave your number. Can you take care of my husband?
– What about him?
– After a head injury, the hand does not work well. Please give me a massage, I heard that you are a wizard.
– I promise nothing, but you can try.
I wrote down the address, arrived, we went into the bedroom. The man lay but did not sleep.
– Dima, – said the woman, – here is a masseur to you …
I also greeted, studying him carefully. The face is slightly skewed, the right corner of the mouth is lowered.
A familiar picture: a stroke.
– D-d-d… – Dmitry gurgled, and saliva crawled out of the corner of his mouth.
The woman said that her name was Margarita and left for a while. I tried to get the client to talk to understand what state he was in.
– How do you feel? I asked, taking his hand. – How long has it been with you?
He didn’t answer. His eyes were dull, without a spark of understanding. But the man looked well-groomed and fresh. How so, he doesn’t get up? That means they are looking after him very well. Half an hour later, his wife returned.
– Sorry, I had to go to the store for groceries. She spoke, straightening her husband’s blanket on the go, checking some saucers and bags on the nightstand. Then she looked at her husband and asked:
– How are you, Dim? Are you happy?
The man looked at her, said:
-D-d-d …
“He wants to say yes, but he can’t,” she explained.
Disease history
Seven months ago, Dmitry fell, a head injury and a stroke, two difficult operations, a month was in a coma. Now she moves a little and even tries to speak.
– You do not think, he is not quite lying! – said Margarita hotly. – It turns on either side, rolls over on its stomach, so that it would be more convenient for me to change the bed and change it, wipe it off and lubricate it.
– So, the nervous activity is gradually recovering, – I said, and I myself thought: “Quite slowly, almost frozen in place.” – But why a hand?
– He complained that it hurts.
– How do you understand?
– We have learned to understand each other in forty years of marriage!
She rushed to the kitchen, knocked something there, then came with a bowl of soup. I promised to come again and left.
I could not believe that Dmitry would recover: there are no miracles. At first he came simply because they paid well. However, I did my work conscientiously: I stretched my whole hand, fingers separately. At the same time, I got used to the client, felt him, and my hands did what was needed.
When love heals
Day after day, I watched a loving wife fussing around her husband. She did not believe that her Dima was bedridden for the rest of his life and would forever remain a memoryless stutterer. She stubbornly dealt with him.
“Look, I’m giving him this ball in his right hand to squeeze,” she explained. – It has rubber spikes. But this one, the bigger one, I tell him to pinch with his knees when he bends his legs. And I also show him photos of our travels, school and student times.
– For what?
– So that he remembers where we have been and who he is.
Sometimes in this apartment I came across Dima’s friends. One day his grown daughter came. She whispered angrily with her mother. Margarita really didn’t want to notice the obvious – what everyone around had seen for a long time.
Her husband will remain lying and dumb. I wanted not to come more, or at least take less money, but she objected:
– Well, what are you! So that I can save on Dimin’s health ?!
She continued to court him with fury and blind faith. To be honest, I envied her husband, even though he is disabled. How lucky he is to be loved so much! ..
Once we were once again alone, his wife went to the store. I finished the massage, and suddenly Dima got up, looked meaningfully, asked:
– Where is Rita?
Then the lock clicked, she entered the room.
– Well, what have you taken so long, – Dima chided her, – I’m hungry!
She gasped, rushed to hug him, kiss him. We helped him to get up, he stood on trembling legs. Then he went to the window himself, looked down at the avenue for a long time, then sat down on the bed.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Margarita stroked him, repeated:
– I knew that you would get up!
She walked me to the door, flung it open and burst into tears soundlessly, leaning her head against the doorframe, trembling all over.
My eyes stung too.
“Rita,” her husband called. – Come here, I miss you!
😉 If you liked the story of the massage therapist, share in the social networks.