The cruel hands of Mr. Tong

Tong the Merciless

For the last couple of years I’ve had this damned sciatica that just kills my right leg when I sit for any length of time. Driving to Eugene a few weeks ago I had to stop at every single rest area to get out and stretch – brutal. Ibuprofen doesn’t help.

“You go see my friend Tong,” Lian recommends. “He very good massage therapist, can cure you.” I start to reply that “cure” is a very strong word and that maybe I should talk to a real doctor abou— but she is already on the phone booking an appointment for me.

Nine the next morning we arrive on Lian’s motor-bike at a nondescript storefront up a dirt side street. Suwat Tong’s shop is no rattan-and-lotus-blossom pleasure palace – just two thin mattresses on a tile floor, a couple of anatomical posters pinned to an otherwise bare wall, and that’s about it. Tong himself is dressed for heavy lifting and sets right to work: he asks me a few medical-history questions while running his fingers over my right leg, squeezing here and there.  “Does this hurt?” he asks, clamping down.  “No,” I reply, even though it sure as hell does.

Tong produces a loose-fitting tunic and tie-shut pants. “Put these on and lie down on back,” he says, stepping outside for a smoke while I change. A few minutes later the meat tenderizing begins.

Over the next two hours Tong rolls relentlessly over every inch of soft tissue, mashing down with elbows, knuckles, knees, heels, or whatever else he can use to pluck unruly tendons like banjo strings. As Tong and Lian chatter away in Thai, I desperately summon Lamaze breathing techniques learned thirty-odd years earlier: “Hee-hee-hee PAHH, hee-hee-hee PAHH …”

But you know what? The moment it’s over, I feel great! I’ve sat working for hours this afternoon without so much as a twinge. My left shoulder no longer pops when I roll it. Everything feels a bit more limber. Old Tong apparently knows his stuff. Later over lunch, Lian tells me that he used to be a staff physical therapist at a Chiang Mai hospital before opening his own shop, and he is always busy.

Me, I love a nice oil massage as much as the next hedonist, but next week I’ll be back to Tong for another two-hour pummeling. “People don’t come here for relax,” he smiles. “They come to feel better.”

Oh yeah, the price: about $17, including tip.