You mostly treat parents rather than the children themselves. Why is that?
Parents are lifting children (often teenagers), hoisting, moving equipment and holding it together, day after day, often over a number of years. That takes a real physical toll, on top of the emotional weight they’re carrying. I feel it as soon as I put my hands on someone; when they’re holding tension or stress. Sometimes people don’t even realise how much tension they’re holding until it starts to ease. Whoever I treat, I start with real intention: what do I want this person to feel by the time I leave?
Do you have a memory that’s stayed with you?
So many. One mum had been suffering from bad headaches for a long time. We talked and realised she was clenching her jaw at night from the stress of it all. After an hour of working on her shoulders, neck, face and deep massage on her jaw, I could see her visibly relax. By her next visit, the headaches were gone, and she was finally sleeping again. That’s incredibly rewarding for me.
What about the dads? You’ve mentioned they can take a bit more persuading.
They do! Mention ‘massage’ and some dads think oh no, that’s a bit fluffy. But if I frame it as sports massage, it tends to land better. One dad, who’d recently been bereaved, was very reluctant at first. I told him if he gave it 10 minutes and didn’t like it, we’d stop. Half an hour later, he was completely converted and back the next day asking for another session because his back was sore from a bad night’s sleep.
Do you treat children too?
Yes absolutely, I work with children when it’s right for them. I once treated a girl who is non-verbal and autistic, alongside other complex needs. She doesn’t usually tolerate touch, so we approach it very gently, only when she signs to her mum that she’d like it. One visit, she was sitting on the bed looking at her iPad, and something told me to start with her feet. She let me give her a ten-minute foot massage, skin to skin. Her dad told me later that she wouldn’t even let him hug her, so knowing she had allowed that contact meant a great deal.
Sometimes you get an unusual request. I heard from the Lead Nurse at the Hospice that there was a family in hospital in Bristol who were having a particularly hard time and their daughter loved massage. I went into the ward and gave her a 40-minute massage in her hospital bed – and found a room to set up my table to treat mum and dad, who were virtually living at the hospital at the time.
I treated a child with very busy legs. Constantly kicking involuntarily and thrashing about, it must have been exhausting for her. I put my hands on her head and just held them there. It was like the flick of a switch: her legs stopped moving. It was mesmerising to see the change.
What is it about touch specifically that makes such a difference?
I don’t think I can overstate it. Sometimes it really is as simple as holding someone’s hand and being still. I’ll feel their breathing slow, the tension in their shoulders ease. We live in such a busy world, everyone rushing from one thing to the next, I think ordinary human contact has become lost. And we need it.
What would you say to a family who’s unsure about reaching out to Julia’s House?
An hour with me isn’t going to solve everything, I know that. But it’s often a gentle way in, a chance to become comfortable with what we offer before needing anything more. Some families come to me just to talk, and I simply listen, no judgement, no answers, just space. Sometimes signposting them to other Julia’s House services. Others don’t even realise how much they’re carrying until that tension starts to lift. Julia’s House is there for exactly that: the everyday weight of caring for a child with complex medical needs, not only for the hardest moments but for whatever stage a family is at, finding support that fits around them, for as long as they need it.
