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Constable: Palatine woman who's struggled with blindness finds her path

She works so expertly with her hands, fingers and even elbows, some clients are clueless until they reach out to thank Julie Gistenson for a great massage and discover handshakes are tricky for her.

“I'm blind,” says Gistenson, 32, one of the most popular massage therapists at Midtown Athletic Club in Palatine.

She says she was often bullied due to her vision problems while growing up in the suburbs.

Born with a rare genetic disorder called Axenfeld-Rieger syndrome that affected the bones in her face and developed into congenital glaucoma, Gistenson was diagnosed with vision problems at 6 months.

“I've been wearing glasses since I was 5 years old,” Gistenson says. “I had my first surgery when I was 7.”

Qualifying as legally blind at age 10, Gistenson refused to use a white cane. As a 12-year-old, her wide-set eyes would swell and extend because of the pressure issues caused by glaucoma. Her lower jaw, which doctors would repair as soon as her bones stopped growing, jutted forward.

“I was called 'Scrunch' and 'Popeye,'” she says. A couple of junior high classmates photocopied her photograph and passed them around in seventh grade, mocking her “Popeye” appearance.

“It was horrible,” Gistenson recalls.

“But I am what I am today because I had to deal with that,” Gistenson says, flashing a now-attractive smile.

“It's not my smile, but, thank you,” she adds, explaining how facial surgery and another 40 or so surgeries on her eyes have ended those appearance issues. “If it makes you feel better, I haven't had any eye surgeries in 10 years.”

As a freshman at Lake Zurich High School, Gistenson competed on the gymnastics team. The uneven bars were her best event, but fears about a blind girl flinging her body between the bars and landing a dismount forced her to compete only in the floor exercise.

“I was a liability,” she says. So she turned to chorus and theater.

She sang in the chorus for musicals “Brigadoon” and “Carousel” and played society woman Mrs. Dexter in “The Man Who Came to Dinner,” memorizing where she had to be onstage.

“I'd refuse to bring my large-print books to class. I didn't want to be looked at any differently,” she says about her efforts to keep others from knowing she was blind. “I'm sure they did know, but I wanted to pretend they didn't.”

Unable to recall a time when she could see out of both eyes at the same time, Gistenson says one eye generally worked well enough that she could still read a bit if a book was an inch from her face. After graduating from high school in May 2000, she started classes that fall at Northern Illinois University, studying acting and directing.

“I still walked around without a cane. I'd run into things and people and I'd fall down steps all the time — all the time,” Gistenson says. “I'm a very stubborn person.”

A corneal rejection and other eye issues forced her to take so many medical withdrawals that college became impossible. She came back to the suburbs and got a job as a phone operator in a large retail store. But she wanted more.

“I was the kid at family parties where they'd say, 'Julie, would you rub my neck?' and that was at age 4,” she recalls. So she enrolled at the Northern Prairie School of Therapeutic Massage & Bodywork in Sycamore.

“I felt like I belonged,” says Gistenson, who loved her classes, made good friends and had a boyfriend. Early one Saturday morning in August 2004, her then-boyfriend accidentally elbowed her left eye. He called 911 and Gistenson was taken to a hospital before transferring to Chicago's Rush University Medical Center. She had a global rupture in her left eye, and the scant vision she had in that eye was gone.

The very limited sight she had left in her right eye vanished after she attended a friend's wedding in Connecticut and somehow detached her retina. “I got into the car, and I could see. I got out of the car, and I couldn't see,” she says. Surgery restored some vision for a bit, allowing her to study for her board-certification exams, and then the retina detached again.

She worked one year with a chiropractor in Barrington before starting at Midtown Athletic Club in March 2006.

“I was a little apprehensive,” client Shanna Nikolic remembers thinking after discovering she had booked a massage with a woman who couldn't see. “Not to be insensitive, but I thought, 'How could she possibly know what to do?'”

That anxiety dissipated as quickly as Nikolic's sore muscles.

“She's the most phenomenal masseuse I have ever had,” says Nikolic, 33, of Palatine. “She's amazing.”

Gistenson has a loyal fan base, says Robyn Kove, director of marketing for the club.

“Her ability to overcome so many obstacles in her life has been an excellent example to us all. She is a wonderful role model to anyone dealing with adversity,” Kove says. “Julie has a combined skill set of compassion and technical knowledge, which creates a relaxing and therapeutic experience for our members.”

Vicki Lorenzo, 49, a tennis player from Long Grove, first came to Gistenson for help with a frozen shoulder.

“She's helped me big time,” says Lorenzo, who schedules weekly 90-minute massages with Gistenson. “She's now working on my lower back, and she's realizing that my legs are tight. She's awesome.”

Noting that she doesn't wish pain on anyone, “I love people who walk in and say, 'This really hurts, and I don't know why,'” Gistenson says.

“When people come in with a problem, I love to resolve it,” she says, her voice growing faster, louder and higher-pitched. “I love it. I love it! I love it!! I love it!!!”

She takes a cab or catches a ride with friends from her nearby apartment, which she keeps neat and orderly so she knows where things are. Same at her job.

“I really just know my way from the front desk to the spa door. That's my comfort zone,” says Gistenson, who uses her talking iPhone to tell her the time, read texts and emails, and identify paper currency. With her career thriving, she'd still like a better social life.

“I would love to be married and have kids,” she says.

When she's giving a massage, her blindness is an afterthought. She's in the zone. Unless she needs to write a note.

“My handwriting,” Gistenson admits, “is awful.”

  When she's giving a massage, Julie Gistenson's blindness isn't a factor. The Palatine woman is one of the most-requested therapists at Midtown Athletic Club in Palatine. Bob Chwedyk/bchwedyk@dailyherald.com
  Even as a child, Julie Gistenson had a knack for giving massages. While her blindness limited her dreams of a career as a gymnast or actress, it didn't stop her from becoming an accomplished massage therapist. Bob Chwedyk/bchwedyk@dailyherald.com
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