KICK, KICK, STOMP, STOMP, ONE and TWO and CHA CHA CHA part 3

    As my intern and I shook hands for the first time, I wondered how soon she would realize I had a speech problem. I certainly didn't want to start off with a major stutter that would take a stomp, kick, or a thigh punch to get the word out. I made a promise to myself not to do any self-flagellation that would shock her too much.
    Even though I knew how absurd being so nervous was, I couldn't help feeling like I was showing up for a job interview that was going to be two months long. I tried to remind myself that I was the one in-charge and what she thought of me didn't even matter, but as soon as we met I was doing my best to entertain and impress her. 
   Her name, which I can't say, does not start with an m,p,l,d,b,t,f, or any other of the letters I have most trouble saying, so I said it with ease when we met. Let's just call her Val. From the personal information facts sheet she had mailed me, I envisioned Val as a tom-boy blond in gym shorts and cleats ready to throw a ball at me. Luckily I was wrong, which I usually am when imagining a situation that hasn't taken place yet. Val hid her jock tendencies well, and at first glance you would think she would be the one who couldn't catch a ball, not me.   
   Her first morning was spent filling out paperwork for the P. T. Department. Then, after lunch she was scheduled to just follow and observe me as I treated my four afternoon patients. Essentially, this meant she was going to be my portable audience, watching every movement I make and listening to every word I say in front of patients and in between treatments. It was my own reality show that I didn't want to be on. I love attention, but only if I'm in control of when it starts and when it stops. Being observed is the worst form of attention. It usually happens to you from behind and you can't tell what the observer is thinking, like being watched from a 2-way mirror. Having an intern is like being watched through a 2-way mirror, only the mirror is gone and you knows she's there. It just adds to my performance anxiety, which as a stutterer has always been at such a high level that only stutterers are able to manage it without exploding.
     I was ready for the worst, but treatment after treatment went flawlessly. Val watched as I sat on a rolling stool inside the parallel bars helping a patient walk 10 feet after she hadn't taken a step in over two months, as other therapists cheered and the patient's sister cried with joy. Then Val watched as I transferred a quadriplegic patient, who's neck was hurting and still in a hard collar, using a squat-pivot technique safely and painlessly from her power wheelchair onto a therapy mat. I made it look as smooth and effortless as Michelle Kwan doing a Triple Axel. The patient and her husband were thrilled that I did it without causing her any neck pain and wanted it videoed for everyone to see. I could see the awe in Val's eyes. My speech was almost flawless too. I had worked with both patients before so I didn't have to deal with introducing myself, and saying Val's name seemed to be easy enough for me. I did have a few small stutters during the treatments but I was pretty sure I was able to hide them in the movements I made to help the patients. The third patient was an eighty-year old man with a broken leg who I had been working with also. I helped him get up and down a flight of stairs for the first time using both hands on one rail and only bearing weight on his good leg. Miracle after miracle was happening. I felt like Jesus on one of His better days. 
     The last patient was one I didn't know yet but I was so pumped with confidence that I didn't even care. We reviewed the chart, and went over the patient's history, the diagnosis, and the precautions. The patient had Parkinson's Disease, had a urinary tract infection which was causing altered mental status, was hard of hearing and blind in one eye, and had gotten a bed sore at home from not moving in bed enough so he was on a special inflatable air mattress to prevent any further skin breakdown. 
     " This is a good example of a basic treatment. Nothing fancy like the last three. We'll just help him learn how to roll and come up and down on the edge of the bed," I explained, avoiding the words 'move' and  'sit' which are guaranteed  stutters for me.     
       I knocked on the patient's door and walked right in. " Hi, I'm Gary from P.T. and this is Val my student," I said quickly without giving myself a moment to pause and possibly stutter.
      " What? " the patient said, squinting at me. 
      "Gary from P.T.," I said with a louder voice.
      "What's P.T.? "
      " Fffffff." My throat closed on the 'ph' of physical and I couldn't get any sound out. I tried to start over three times but the only thing coming out sounded like a tire that was leaking. It was such a long stutter that I actually felt like I has having an out of body experience as I floated above watching myself struggling to get the word out.
      " I can't hear you!" the patient complained. " Speak up!"
      "Ffffff.." I got so desperate with my speech that I gave a stomp and a kick, and my foot accidentally hit the CPR EMERGENCY RELEASE button sticking out from the bed frame. With a loud, quick puff the big air mattress instantaneously deflated and the patient sunk down into the folds. I quickly hit the RE-SET button and the mattress re-inflated almost as quickly as it deflated. 
     "What just happened?" the patient asked, very confused. 
     " I fixed your bed. It was broken, " I said, not knowing what else to say.
     " Oh, well that's a good thing then. Glad you did. But you still didn't tell me who you are."
     " We're from Physical Therapy and we're here to help you," Val stepped forward.
     " Oh good. I like you people," the patient smiled and clapped his hands.
     Val turned to me and gave me a quick wink and smiled. " This is going to be the best six weeks."
     Usually I don't like to be rescued from a stutter, but I allowed Val to throw me a life-preserver this one time and one time only. I smiled back at her, more appreciative than embarrassed. I agreed with her that the next six weeks was going to be a great experience for both of us.