I have a memory that I’ll never be able to forget. It comes back over and over and over again, often out of the blue often when I haven’t thought about it in a while.

When I was still a student at acupuncture school, I was also still working full-time at a high end sports club as a massage therapist in New York.  Around this time, my friend asked me to do a massage for her boyfriend, who was a doctor, and a his young intern.

Tragically, it turned out that the intern, a young man still in his 20’s, was suffering from terminal cancer. He looked a bit weak, but was still working at his internship at that time. I worked with him and he seemed to enjoy the massage.

Months later, I received a text from my friend asking if I could visit the Memorial Sloan Kettering Caner Center and do a massage for him again.

I remember thinking on the way to the hospital "why did he request me to do a massage?”  It was the last wish he had asked of his boss. We were practically strangers who had met only once months ago.

When I arrived, he was on a hospital bed and, while skinny, did not look that bad, at least for me. I don’t know why I thought so, but I thought his life force was still there. It was small, but sparkling. His mother was standing right next to him and looked more exhausted. I thought he would live and I wanted him to live.

So, I was nervous but started a massage. I touched his swollen feet and firmly massaged; I thought it would drain fluid in his feet. Looking back, it must have been too painful for him, but he said nothing.

Next, I moved to his abdominal area which was swollen like a balloon and I thought this must be changed. By accident, I worked to move his life energy in the opposite direction. He started belching quite a bit and we had to stop the massage. It was extremely embarrassing, but I didn’t even know how to adjust a massage to someone in such a fragile state.

After a while he asked me to try again. It was like he tried to teach me how to do it. This time I just put my hands on his back and moved as gently as I could. It was more of a gentle stroke than a massage.

He then quietly smiled. It was a big smile. You wouldn’t expect such a smile from someone suffering in that state, I think now as I recall.

Calmly, he said he felt better now and thanked me. I promised him I would come back 2 days later, but unfortunately he had passed by that time.

The pain he had all over his body, which a high dose of morphine could not abate, seemed to be gone with gentle human touch. I had learned something extremely important from him.

I now believe that he tried, intentionally or unintentionally, to show me how powerful the human touch.

Now, many years later, I am still an imperfect being. I often doubt myself, my goals and my lifelong mission. But then, this memory always comes back to assure me that I am on the right track.

Now, I should say a word here: this is not my story alone. I cannot even imagine the pain his family has gone through and continues to go through due to his loss. I truly appreciate the lesson he gave me, I pray for him and his loved ones, and I hope that in sharing this story, I do his memory justice.