Welcome to my world - The world of Tish

Thursday, January 27, 2005

In Home Health, Panties are NOT optional

Just when I think I've seen, smelled, or experienced all that is strange on the face of this earth, a patient comes along that redefines the phrase "stranger than fiction."

Most of the time, we start the exercises in the bedroom. Most of the time, this is not a problem UNTIL a female patient decides to experience the world sans panties. Not a small patient either, but a woman that brings to mind women immortalized in the Renaissance Period paintings.
It's not that nudity bothers me or that aging bothers me, but put the two together and I think you would agree that modesty is the best policy, man or woman.

Physical therapists are accused of not knowing the number eleven since we count in sets of ten. That joke is funny the first twelve hundred times but my patient's husband likes to repeat this joke at each session. He sits across from us in the room, watching every exercise we do and providing commentary. It's almost like an ESPN event with a Southern Chris Berman calling out my exercises like they were plays.

"I think she's going for the old straight leg lift."
"Oooh, that's gotta hurt, ladies and gentlemen."
"That patient's gonna feel that move tomorrow, whaddya say?"

As we perform our regular routine, I thought the lights dimmed. Mr. Patient slumps a little lower in his chair, eyes intent on us.

"You haven't done that bridging thing yet."

I think his eyes glazed over, but can't be sure because I was directly looking at the 'birthing' canal my Mrs. Patient was showcasing. Since I don't deliver babies, is there a reason I have to be subjected to female genitalia? The room filled with aromatic urine 'stank' - something new mothers immediately recognize as the Diaper Genie needing changing.

As Mrs. Patient grunts and moves her hips up and down, I count each repetition while stabilizing her feet. Of course I avert my gaze to any other object in the room...and that's when I see him.

Mr. Patient is slumped down in the chair, eyes narrowed and face flush. His breathing is rapid. Maybe it was my imagination, but I think the "wah-wah- wahhh-wahh" echoed from a radio and a lava lamp appeared out of nowhere. I had officially become a live-action porn star without taking off my clothes.

Needless to say, I washed thoroughly after leaving their home. My supervisor politely mentioned to Mrs. Patient that she needed to wear panties during therapy sessions the next day.

Now that I am the object of perversion, I think I'll ask for a raise. And film rights, too.


  • I only want to know one thing... which city do these people live in? I never want to get within 100 miles of it.

    BTW, when is your next live-action p0rn performance?

    By Blogger Phil, at 4:55 PM  

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