Time to face the facts: most cradle covers remind me of some grandma’s underwear.The covers do not fit very well, leaving lots of extra cotton. The little stretchy elastic edge seems like undies to me. I’ve noticed clients tend to get itchy noses while prone because the lower seam covers their airway a bit. And the side seams leave a wrinkle line on faces that reminds me of the nuns who taught at my grade school.
Can’t someone make a giant leap for humankind and massage and come up with a better design?
OK – I have tried alternatives. Once, I bought a box of nurse hats recommended by a chair massage company. In the field, I found that the holes I made in the middle left the clients breathing little polyester fibers. A client asked me if it is the same stuff they make insulation from. Plus: they are cheap. Minus: Very scratchy, Home-Depot feel.
I tried a firm cotton and paper towel once only to find it is so absorbent it sticks to makeup – and the faces wearing makeup. Great idea, too many sticky cheeks out there. Clients are supposed to laugh at my jokes, not the linens.
At some point someone came up with the idea to add Velcro to the upper and lower seams to gather up the extra cotton and make the covers snug, but on my thick cradle cushion, the Velcro tends to be too close to the face and scratches the forehead a bit.
Now every time I open up a web page, magazine or browse an exhibit hall, I go on a hunt for a new design. No more thin paper, as in toilet seat covers, for me or my clients.
At an AMTA convention last year I picked up some flat, double flannel covers. No seams along the face line, no drooping over the nose. Perfect. I wore them out. Now can I find that lady’s card? Please, if you know someone who makes these....
Sad Sack-like, this client came in not expecting much. After a hellacious car accident a decade ago, she had developed pain throughout the left shoulder girdle and felt restricted and unable to do much. She had cut down work to two days a week. Her husband drove her in to the office because she hasn’t driven a car since the accident. She looked a bit down-and-out in sweats, no makeup and expression-less.
By the time he was a young man, my father was already hard-of-hearing, particularly on the left side. Being left-handed, he thinks that a lifetime of holding shotgun and rifle stocks to the left shoulder and firing without hearing protection was the largest culprit. In any case, by the time I was in my late teens, my interpreting services were more and more required in social situations. Very naturally, my father had become a face-watcher and a lip-reader, but if approached from behind (especially behind and left), he often could not hear (and appeared to be ignoring) the speaker. Speakers talking too fast or using a different dialect were also a problem, so I became very handy at restaurants and on vacation. If he couldn't understand something, he simply looked at me questioningly, and I repeated or translated the statement/question. My face and my dialect were easy for him: he'd been reading me for years. Now, I'm 40, and my father is pretty much deaf without his hearing aids. Upon getting them, he said it was nice to hear birds again, but not so nice to listen to my mother shuffle around in her bedroom slippers, which he said sounded more like a herd of elephants sliding around the kitchen.
The last glowing ember of the Fourth of July fireworks had gone out and as we walked to the car, I ran into two old friends I had not seen since massage school – now a good 16 Fourth-of-July fireworks shows ago.
Lots of therapists need massage themselves, as do many people in the service industry, so I have always had a wholesale, "courtesy" rate for folks to come in and have a massage.