Oncology Massage

Because cancer doesn't look the same for everybody.

Treatment doesn't look the same for everybody.

And how someone feels from one day to the next can be completely different too.

Someone might be dealing with fatigue.

They may have had surgery.

They might have ports, scars or areas that are tender or sensitive.

They might be experiencing changes in their skin, sensation or mobility.

They might not be able to comfortably lie in certain positions.

Or they might simply be absolutely bloody exhausted from everything their body — and their mind — has been through.

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So when you come in for an oncology massage, I'm not thinking…

“Right, this is my standard massage routine, let's go.”

I'm looking at you.

Where you're at in your treatment.

How you're feeling today.

What your body has been through.

What needs to be avoided or modified.

How we can make you comfortable.

And most importantly…

What do you actually need from me today?

And sometimes the answer is simply:

“I just want to feel good.”

Because there is something else about oncology massage that I think is incredibly important.

The power of touch.

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When you're going through cancer treatment, suddenly your body can become very clinical.

There are doctors examining you.

Nurses accessing ports and taking blood.

Needles.

Scans.

Procedures.

Surgeries.

Machines.

Appointments.

People touching your body because they need to do something to it.

And of course, all of those things have an incredibly important purpose.

But when so much of the touch you experience becomes clinical, necessary and sometimes uncomfortable, there is something really lovely about experiencing touch that asks absolutely nothing from you.

Touch that isn't looking for a vein.

Touch that isn't examining something.

Touch that isn't preparing you for another procedure.

Just touch that feels nice.

Warm hands.

Gentle movements.

Comfort.

Connection.

Nurturing.

An opportunity to close your eyes and let somebody care for your body in a way that simply feels good.

And I think we sometimes underestimate how powerful that can be.

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For a little while, your body doesn't have to be a medical case.

It doesn't have to be poked, prodded, scanned or examined.

It can simply be your body again.

And no — I'm not there to “massage the cancer away.”

I'm not treating the cancer.

I'm not replacing your oncologist, doctors, nurses or medical treatment.

I'm supporting the human being who is going through it.

That might mean adjusting my pressure.

Changing your position.

Avoiding particular areas.

Making the session shorter.

Giving you extra bolstering and support.

Or changing the entire plan because you walked through my door today feeling completely different from how you thought you would.

And that's okay.

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There is no medal for tolerating more pressure.

There is no requirement to make it through a full treatment.

And you certainly don't need to apologise because your body isn't cooperating that day.

We work with the body you've brought through my door today.

If you get an hour where you can completely switch off — I've done my job.

If you feel comfortable and nurtured — I've done my job.

If you fall asleep and snore your head off — I've done my job. 

If you walk out thinking, “God, it was just nice to be touched without something medical happening” — I've done my job.

And if, for a little while, you can forget about appointments, results, treatment plans and everything else and simply experience something that feels nourishing and nice…

I've done my job.

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Oncology massage isn't about treating cancer.

It's about comfort.

It's about connection.

It's about the power of safe, nurturing touch.

And most importantly…

It's about caring for the human being who is experiencing it.