Manuel Marfil is hard to miss.
For starters, there is his voice — rich and resonant, capable of filling even a large room, much less the small one he works in at the Downtown YMCA.
There is his sheer burliness. He’s a big man who favors black clothing that accentuates his mane of black hair, Ray-Ban sunglasses and the slender white cane that helps guide him to and from work.
Marfil is the resident masseur at the YMCA. For 28 years, his hands have worked out the knots, kinks and strains of elite athletes and weekend warriors alike.
“How many massages have I given?” Marfil said on a recent morning, awaiting the day’s first appointment. For a guy who typically offers a steady stream of banter, he seemed genuinely stumped.
“I couldn’t even . . . wow. I’d have to say thousands.”
This is his second career, one he fell into, a bit of good fortune that came after the worst sort of luck.
Marfil went blind when he was 24.
He had been working as an X-ray developer in the darkroom at Denver General Hospital, with big plans to become a full-time technician.
But the young man had a problem that typically afflicts the elderly: cataracts on both eyes. The situation was made worse by the fact that he also suffered retinal problems.
“I couldn’t see to do my job,” he said. “Everything was getting blurry. So I had no choice but to get surgery.”
During the operation, Marfil’s eyes hemorrhaged. It was a disastrous turn of events, and over the course of four months, he slowly went blind.
“My vision just kept decreasing,” he said. “It was a living hell, wondering, ‘Is this the last day I’ll ever see anything?’ ”
Then one day, it was. Marfil has tried to recall the last thing he ever saw. He can’t.
He earned a degree in social work, but the paperwork was a grind and he found it depressing to boot.
An opening for a masseur came up at the YMCA. Now, this was years before massages became a routine part of workouts. But Marfil was intrigued.
“The folks at the Y said come give it a try and see what you think,” he said.
Marfil liked the work. The men and women who were his clients liked him. He learned anatomy and muscle and bone structure and earned his formal certification.
And he developed a reputation as the guy with the golden touch.
“I’ve met some great people here,” Marfil said.
The Y has brought solace to Marfil. Two wives have died on him, a brother was killed in a train accident, and he’s lost his dad to cancer.
“It’s been a tough road,” he said. “The Y has been a refuge that’s given me stability through so much change and loss. It’s been a good run.”
At 57, he’s pondering retirement within the next year or so, although he might stay on just to make it an even three decades at the Y. For now, he and his wife of nine years are figuring out the game plan.
“That’s the big question,” Marfil said. “I’d love to become a musician, but unfortunately, I’m the only blind guy in history with no musical talent. I tried to pick up guitar, but that didn’t work. Then I flunked harmonica.
“But we’ll figure it out.”
Who knows? Marfil has made a lot of friends over the years. It’s likely he’ll find himself in good hands.
William Porter’s column runs Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at 303-954-1977 or wporter@denverpost.com.
