It was several days after Thanksgiving when I received a phone call from a woman looking for an out-call massage for her sister. She explained that her sister was in the hospital, in a coma, and she was hoping for reflexology. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any availability during the timeframe she needed, but I told her that if she still needed my services, I would be available the following week.
A few days later, she called back and asked if I still had the availability. I did, and we scheduled a session. She provided me with the name and contact number of her niece, Deana, who was in town.
When I arrived at the Catholic hospital in downtown Phoenix, Deana greeted me. As we walked to her mother’s hospital room, she shared her story. Her mom had flown in from Chicago a few weeks before Thanksgiving but had collapsed at her sister’s home and had not woken up since. Now, after more than three weeks with no improvement, Deana was faced with the heartbreaking decision of whether to place her mother on hospice care.
During the massage, I witnessed a flood of emotions; grief, frustration, heaviness, and deep sorrow. So much unfolded in that hour. At one point, a friend of Deana’s mother entered the room and tried to wake her. It was heartbreaking to witness. Yet, I always believe that I am in the right place at the right time.
Once the massage was over, Deana walked me downstairs. As we reached the bottom floor, she confided in me that she was likely going to remove her mother from the life-support systems keeping her alive. I told her that if she ever needed a massage even just to have a space to cry, would be there.
She then shared something her mother had said before leaving Chicago: “If I don’t make it back, you know where everything is.” Deana had shrugged it off at the time, telling her, “Don’t be silly, Mom. I love you. Have a good trip” Now, those words weighed heavily on her heart.
I gave Deana a hug and wished her well.
Two weeks later, Deana unexpectedly came to mind, so I sent her a text to let her know I was thinking about her. She responded a few days later, asking to schedule a massage for herself and a friend at her friend’s house.
When I arrived, I expected to hear the details of how her mother had passed. But what Deana told me was far from anything I could have imagined.
She shared that, just days after my visit, her mother woke up. Not only was she awake, but she was now in physical therapy and fully coherent!
Then, Deana told me something even more astonishing. While in her coma, her mother had been visited by her son, Nate, who had passed away two years prior. She described how he told her that he could hear everything happening around her, but he couldn’t physically see or touch anything, he just had a knowing. Deana, coming from a loud Italian family, joked that they probably weren’t ready for her yet and had sent her back.
Her family is deeply devout, and with the hospital itself being Catholic, the entire experience felt even more profound.
These miraculous stories seem to find me at the perfect time, reminding me that we are never truly alone, that the physical body is temporary, but the soul lives on.
I hope this story brings peace to someone who reads it.
Hospice massage is something that can bring comfort to individuals offering a sense of peace, loving presence, and a gentle touch that can help someone transition. But only when the time is right.
