KICK, KICK, STOMP, STOMP, ONE and TWO and CHA CHA CHA - PART 2

   I didn't know if I should e-mail my intern before she arrived to warn her about my stutter. At least to explain about any kicking, stomping, or thigh punching that may occur. What if she was warned already? Maybe the woman in-charge of my hospital's intern program phoned the school to prepare them for the surprise. Imagine if my intern isn't even the one first assigned to me.What if none of the other Physical Therapy Assistant interns wanted a stuttering Clinical Instructor, and the intern I'm getting is being forced to come after drawing the shortest straw? Or maybe she's volunteering to be with me for extra credit, like I'm some kind of special project.
   The only things I know about this intern are what's on the personal facts sheet she filled out about herself-- how she spends time outside of school, her involvement in extra curricular activities, how she sees herself as a student, and what area of P.T. is of particular interest to her. For starters, she's 20 and I'll be 50 in 3 days. That means she could be my daughter, but only if I had waited until I reached 30. If I fathered her when I was 20 , she would be 30 now. That's how much older I am. She might even know a grandfather my age. The facts sheet also says she loves sports, nature, and family, which happens to be the three things in this world I like least. One of the more personal things she admits to is that she can't help being a perfectionist. I'm going to have to admit to her I can't help not being one.  And, as far as her particular interest goes, she wants to treat young amputee soldiers from the Middle East wars. I'm personally not a fan of soldiers, nor am I as skilled at treating amputations as I am with strokes, and the closest I've come to helping a Middle East casualty was once treating an Iraqi cab driver who lost 2 toes trying to stomp out fireworks on his front porch somewhere in South San Francisco where he lived. As far as I can tell, my intern and I have absolutely nothing in common. We definitely wouldn't be a match on E-Harmony.
   I decided it was a good idea to send the e-mail just to break the ice before she arrived, and joke about my stutter a little and how she and I are complete opposites. My co-worker and dear friend, Ali, was totally against the idea and was determined to stop me.
  "  It's just going to be something simple and funny. I know what I'm doing, don't worry," I assured her.
  " You saying don't worry always makes me worry, Gary. You forget that what's 'simple and funny' to you is usually shocking to other people, especially to a 20 year-old girl who doesn't even know you. I've had students before, you haven't. I've never contacted any of them in advance. You can't be like you are with me, or like you are with the women here. You'll write something that this girl will take the wrong way and tomorrow you'll be getting a phone call from her Supervising Professor, and the whole thing is going to blow up in your face. I'm telling you, Gary. Please listen to me. Do not email this girl. Trust me, I'm right about this."  
   " What makes you so right about this?"'
   She sighed and looked at me like it was the most obvious answer in the world. " Because I am always right, and you are always wrong."
     I paused and thought about it. " Hmm, good point," I agreed, having to admit that Ali does happen to be right quite a bit of the time. Her husband can attest to this.
    " Don't worry so much, Gary. She'll love you after she meets you, like everybody in this whole hospital does. You're going to be a great Instructor. You love being the center of attention anyway, even with your stutter. This is your big chance."
    A few of the other women I work with came into the back office after eating lunch and got in on the conversation to tell me how ridiculous I was being for worrying about my speech.    

"Your speech will putter, not a sound you will mutter, for a week you will stutter"

   " Oh really? Try stuttering for a week and get back to me. Then we'll see how you feel," I told them. If only I was Endora from Bewitched I would have swung my arms up and turned them into stutterers just so they could experience what I've had to go through.
    " All of you think it's easy because I make it look so easy. But believe me, it's not. I've been stuttering since I was six, so that's 44 years worth of stuttering. I must have stuttered on at least a million words. And I still have 20-30 years of stuttering left. That could be another million stutters!" I calculated, even shocking myself with the amount. "Just imagine how many patients I've had to stutter in front of. Thousands!"
  "But they all love you too, just like we do," Ali reassured me. Each of the other women named a different room of a patient who loved working with me.  
   "I know, I know. Of course the patients love me. If I wasn't as lovable, everyone would see how much more annoying my stutter would be. That's the bottom line," I explained. " I have to make everybody I speak to love me, which is almost more exhausting to do than stuttering." I happened to stutter especially long on the m of 'make' and 'more' which helped to drive home my point " You see how much worse my speech is getting by the minute? I can't say  'm's' now! Thank God my intern isn't named Maureen MacMannis from Marymount College." Everyone laughed as we left the office, which made stuttering on the added m's worth it. In the elevator up to see all our patients, Ali looked me in the eye. " No sending that e-mail, right?' she asked just to make sure.
   " Yes, I promise I will wait until I stutter in her face in person."
                                         
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                                               Part 3 on the way