• Vicky Short


Updated: Jan 26, 2019

It was 1997, I was 27, I had just given birth to my second baby, and couldn’t wait to be discharged from the hospital. It was one of the worst hospital experiences I’d had. They gave me the epidural too late and it didn’t kick in until after my daughter was

born. A couple hours later the baby nurse burst into my room loudly announcing she was returning my baby to my room. “I have three sets of twins and I’m too busy. She’s hungry and you’re gonna have to feed her yourself.” I couldn’t feel my body and couldn’t even move. The rest of the day they kept coming into my room for checking vitals or making me sign something or explaining to me how to feed and bathe a baby. I didn’t sleep at all that night for how loud it was.

First thing the next morning, I asked to be discharged. They tried to talk me into staying and then they tried stalling me: “Well, we’ll have to get the paperwork started. There’s a lot of things you’ll have to sign. And we’ll have to take your bladder catheter out to see if you can pee on your own.” I said, “Either take it out or I will, and I’ll sign whatever you want, but I’m leaving.” The nurse took the catheter out, I got up and went to the bathroom to pee, and I said they better start bringing the paperwork. I was pretty upset and I let them know it!

While waiting for them to bring my discharge papers, a women came into my room and asked if I’d like a massage before I go. If you know me, then you know I love to be touched so of course I said yes. I figured it was the least they could do for me.

She came and sat beside my bed and placed her open hands a few inches in the air over my right arm and just held them there. I figured word had gotten around about how irritated I was and she was trying to work up the nerve to touch me. I said, “Well go ahead, just dive right in.” She smiled and said, “Oh, this is it. I’m already doing it.”

I said, “I don’t understand. You said you were going to give me a massage.” She said, “It’s not that kind of massage. It’s like an energy massage. I just called it that because most people don’t know what this is. But this is what it is. It’s called therapeutic touch.”

I must have rolled my eyes or made a face because my husband just lost it. He practically fell out of his chair laughing so hard. I’m sure if I had been in a better frame of mind I would have gotten a lot more out of that “massage”, but despite all that other stuff I was at least intrigued.

What I liked about it was how natural this was for her. She wasn’t fazed by our reactions. I also liked the idea of using energy to do something with. I liked the idea of using your will with the intention of having an effect on the physical. I liked the whole concept. But it would be another 20 years before I did anything about it.

Either as giver or receiver, I love the hands-on approach so much more. Actual physical touch is so important. It does a lot. It says a lot. We can communicate so much through touch. And for me personally, I love the concept of Reiki because of the history and meaning of it. But I appreciate all healing modalities and look forward to learning more.

August 6, 1997



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