HEALER

 HEALER

I remember my first day working in a hospital-based physical therapy clinic. I was so excited. After working in three other departments, I finally scored the job I was after all along.

I'd worked very hard to get the job rehabilitating patients. After spending two years in physical therapy myself as a patient, then studying, shadowing other therapists, reading every Frank Netter anatomy book, devouring all things anatomy related, and teaching schoolchildren through the hospital community outreach department about our bones, it became part of me, our anatomy.

Then I got certified as a personal trainer, though it did take repeating the course two times, because remembering all the exercises and modifications and how to do them correctly proved overwhelming even for an anatomy geek. I knew every bone and muscle, but strengthening them is different than healing them from injury.

Officially a geek about the subject, they finally let me near real patients. I'd been through a rigorous hiring routine and had to prove my knowledge to multiple people at multiple interviews.

I bounded into the clinic with excitement and a wide smile that first day, bringing chocolate for my new boss and co-workers. Always show up with sweets your first day on the job. People like that.

After getting a tour and learning where they kept everything it was time to go to work. Sure I was a little nervous. These were real patients who were really hurting or seriously injured and they expected me to know what to do. I did, but hadn't had my own patients ever and the chatter around the clinic suggested that even the patients knew that I was new.

Mostly knee replacements, that first day were in there. One shoulder replacement lady, one bad back guy, a lady with a stuck neck, an old man that couldn't walk right, and a child who was annoying and I never figured out what was wrong with her.

Taking a deep breath, I jumped in. Adjusting machines for patients, getting and returning equipment, modifying exercises when they couldn't quite do them, and watching everything around me. Then I observed my supervising therapist wrapping kinesiotape intricately around a leg, cutting each strip in a certain pattern and interlacing the strips for support.

She assigned my first knee replacement patient, Patricia, who meekly allowed me to guide her through her flow sheet of rehab protocol. It felt easy for me. Second nature after all my worry. She was kind and had a nice nature and we chatted away while I watched her struggle to get everything right. Only two weeks out of surgery, her scar was huge and swollen and it wasn't easy for her to do things, but she tried and that's all we expect in therapy.

Assigned permanently to me, I worked with Patricia twice a week for several months. Because she was my first patient, we developed a close connection. It felt like I did when I was in therapy myself. That connection between provider and patient is tender and close, especially when real healing is involved.

Meanwhile, my favorite patient was Jaime, who was a prisoner brought over from jail twice a week for a wrist injury. The sheriff escorted him in handcuffed, in front of everybody, removed his cuffs, then sat nearby the whole time while I worked with Jaime, who wore the signature orange jumpsuit prisoner garb. A young man, I felt sorry for Jaime who'd made a bad mistake with drugs and driving. He confided his whole story to me in whispers and was truly sorry for what he'd done, but in Georgia the law is extremely strict and he had to serve his full time for his youthful indiscretions. Meanwhile the sheriff regaled me with the craziest stories about the latest criminals, amazing details that they never report on the news for the gory and salacious nature of those details.

I still looked forward to seeing Patricia. I don't think one ever forgets their first patient. Or their worst, or favorite, or most difficult, etc.

After four long months, she was ready to be discharged. She'd done well and luckily had no issues, because there was and still is a high failure rate for knee replacements. (Remember that before agreeing to one, no matter what a surgeon tells you, and DO try to avoid one as long as possible, because it brutalizes a body.)

Patricia brought me a cake to say thank you. And she filled out the evaluation form about her treatment and about me. It was glowing. She said such nice things, I nearly cried reading it.

But it was what she told me before she left that mattered most of all. She confided that she was scared of me that first day. She heard that I was new, watched me come into the clinic, and admitted that she prayed, PRAYED: please, please, don't let that person treat me. Patricia told me that. She didn't mind admitting to me that she fervently, privately prayed that I didn't come near her, because she wanted an expert, someone with loads of experience.

That's smart, by the way. I wouldn't want a new therapist either, and coach my friends not to accept one.

But Patricia had gone along and she was telling me this now because she wanted me to hear her and to know that she had been afraid of me. She also wanted me to know that she'd never met anyone like me. That she was so glad she'd accepted me and having been there for months and watching everyone around there, she was sure nobody else would've healed her knee better.

"I think you're going to have great success with whatever you choose to do in life," Patricia said. "I can't thank you enough for all you did for me." I smiled and thanked her for saying that.

"I want to tell you something else," she added. "You're really good with people. Really really good. That's why I say that. Whatever you decide to do, you're going to do it well, because you have such a delightful spirit. Thank you again and I left you a very good review. Five stars."

I nearly wept again, hearing her say that to me. What I didn't let her know is that I was scared of her that first day too. I wasn't confident enough yet and I really appreciated her trusting me to treat her knee.

We walked out together, she gave me her phone number and asked me to keep in touch with her and let her know how I was doing. I did that until she died.

We stayed in touch and it's true. We never do forget our first patient and I'll never forget her last words that day in the clinic. Patricia gave me confidence.

I am a healer.

Just Another Lori Story

Shopping With a Ship Captain

 

Shopping With a Ship Captain

I once went shopping with a ship captain. On his ship, where I was working. As an enrichment speaker, I'd traveled aboard cruise ships for more than 20 years, my best dream job ever. I saw the world up close and from the sea, and there is no better way that I can think of to experience everything there is to experience, while not worrying about hotels and cars, or extra travel plans, touring, food, and more.

Life on a cruise ship is so easy. It's all there. A gym, bars, restaurants, reading rooms, a salon, a spa, multiple pools, special events, coffee shops, a promenade with fancy stores, art galleries, so many things to see and do.

I was one of those things “to do”. When at sea, between ports, passengers can pick from a daily newsletter of scheduled events around the ship. Or they can do nothing, which is another glorious reason to sail away. How about a movie? First-run films were always available in the theater or privately streamed to a stateroom upon request. How about origami napkin folding? Carving a watermelon six different ways? Maybe a port shopping review with the guide who will get money from stores you buy from. Or ME! How about me? Interesting “edu-tainment” in the large auditorium, about a multitude of subjects, mostly fun, interesting, comedic presentations about all sorts of subjects picked by the cruise company to present. A favorite is etymology (word origins), probably because our language evolved from sailors at sea long ago. Another area of my expertise is gemology. Passengers like to learn about gems and jewelry and wherever we were headed to determined which stones I'd talk about. Emeralds in South America, opals for Australia, peridot in the Canary Islands, Canada has ammolite, and so on. Jewelry is one of the most popular purchases when cruising. Luxury items to remember a luxurious holiday.

My lectures were very popular and I was pleased to be in high demand from many cruise lines. I started aboard British ships for many years, then finally migrated to American ships too. (But always preferred the smaller British boats to the behemoths that America insists on making even bigger every year.)

One year, I celebrated a BIG birthday aboard a Norwegian ship. My favorite captain at the helm. Weather issues meant missing a couple ports and staying at sea and he asked me to offer some special lectures for high rollers, people that stayed in big suites or those that had spent a lot of money already. Several of us stayed up one night and personally addressed envelopes to these select passengers and they were posted on the doors of these privileged passengers. It was a wonderful presentation. Special because it was intimate, only a couple hundred people instead of the usual huge crowd, with loads of questions and participation, followed by a raffle for a fancy ring that someone gleefully won.

Then the captain rewarded me with a special birthday present, a strand of fine pearls and earrings that matched. Maybe my reaction wasn't the best, because I already owned pearls and earrings and though appreciative and grateful, I think my reaction registered as, well, not really.

He asked and I was delicately honest.

"What would you like that you see here?” He waved his hand over the jewelry cases. I pointed to a gold with diamonds cuff bracelet that I had tried on one evening and really loved, but it was a high-ticket item and we both laughed.

Then the captain said, “let's go shopping.” I had no idea what he meant, but I followed him out into the promenade and he laced my arm inside his. OK, I thought, FUN! We went from store to store; everybody moving aside when we came in, excited to see the captain in their store. It was a game. He wanted to do something lovely for me, but also wanted to test his own security system. There was a nervous feel to the shopkeepers, unused to this unusual situation.

The captain would ask me, “what do you like in here?” and I'd point and he'd lift it off the display and I'd try it on, or he'd just take something and give it to me. Then he would wave up at the security cameras and we'd leave and go to the next store. No money was exchanged. No shop workers stopped us. They laughed and let him do whatever he wanted.

A $250 bottle of Chanel No. 5? Mmmmmm, it smelled nice. “I like that,” he said. And it was mine. Swarovski crystal pen? “Beautiful,” he exclaimed and asked for the box to go with it. Then he saw a matching necklace and said, “how about this to match?” I tried it on and Yes! In each shop, he'd reach for the pretty or expensive and as he “lifted” each thing to take, he'd again wave to his security team. The attendants would wrap each thing and hand it over and that was what we did in every single shop. Such fun! My favorite champagne, a bauble here or there, fancy scarf, arms full of birthday gifts and glorious personal time with my favorite ship man at sea.

I had the best time and it was such a surprise that it didn't register until much later what it all meant to me.
Afterward, we went for fancy birthday dinner at the French restaurant and it was my best birthday meal ever. (Except the staff singing to me. I always get embarrassed by that singing stuff, memories of being made to wear a lobster hat at Red Lobster, long ago.)

For days, I admired and sorted through all my goodies. So much better than a single strand of pearls. Real treasure, both the things and the experience.

But it wasn't until a week later that the biggest blessing of all was bestowed on me. Asked yet again to do a presentment for crew and staff only, something special for my shipmates, I set up in the piano lounge and gave a fine performance, first with facts, followed up with comedy, and then played piano for the stunned group. I'd never done anything like that before on a ship and it was nice for me too.

After everyone left, the captain called me over to walk with him. We went through the art gallery and over to the jewelry store and he opened a drawer and pulled out a felt pouch and handed it to me with a “thank you, this is for you. Happy Birthday.”

No wave to the security guys this time. Everyone already knew about it. I opened the red velveteen bag and inside was the gold with diamonds bracelet that I wanted from the beginning.

What a moment. What a cruise. What a birthday.

I am so blessed.