#164 - KB

I owe a great deal to #174.  He was my first and my only professional boss.  Those of you who read my blog regularly may remember that when I graduated from PT school and started to look for a job, #174 really did not need a PT at that exact moment because he had # 48 working for him.  Despite this, he welcomed me with open arms.  I'll never forget when he hired me, he told me, "Now listen up...I know you are getting married in a few months.  Both your momma and my wife will kill me if I don't let you off for all your wedding parties and shopping trips and other frou frou get togethers.  So don't get me in trouble, ok?"

The physical therapy professsion has not been around all that long.  In fact, #174 was the fifth licensed therapist in the State of Louisiana.  He was a pioneer in our field and was inducted into the Louisiana PT Hall of Fame in 2000.   Many of the concepts and protocols that we follow, were developed by the first generation of PT's, of which he was one.  Not a week goes by that I don't hear a "Mr. Ken" story.  His patient's loved him.  He was the definition of a big teddy bear.  Loud and gruff, but with a twinkle in his blue eyes all the time.  Now don't get me wrong, he was not a saint, but I feel like his heart was always in the right place.

His greatest gift to was to instill confidence in his patients (and me too).  He made them believe they could do anything by starting out with the simplest tasks and then praising them when they mastered it.  For example, I remember many occasions when a new patient would come in with a "fresh" leg injury.  Let's just say a recent hip replacement.  They would be sitting in their wheelchair, looking apprehensive at what was to come.  They had heard the rumors of the letters "PT" behind our names stood for "pain and torture" instead of physical therapy.  #174 would wheel them to the parallel bars, bark at them to "Stand Up!"  Too shocked to do anything but...they always stood.  He would then forcefully say, "Now!  Step down on your right leg!  Just like you are stepping in a bucket!"  If they would start to protest, he would cut them off and say, "Hush!  Step!"  He would keep repeating these simple commands until the patient was able to bear weight on their leg without difficulty.  Then he would let them sit back down.  He would lean down and get very close to them and whisper, "See, you can do it!" 

#174 had many losses in his life.  He lost two children at early ages and he I know that this was never far from his mind.  I remember like it was yesterday when a young girl came into our office immediately after being involved in a minor fender bender on the corner outside our office.  She was not hurt, but was crying and carrying on about her brand new car, her insurance, blah, blah, blah.  #174 walked right up to her and said, "Are you hurt?"  She sobbed, "Not really."  "Good," he said, "well then shut up!"  I remember her looking up at him sharply before he continued, "I lost two of my children in accidents so you need to be thankful that you are still here and not worry about some damn car.  It is not important, you are."  Then he walked off.  That was the first and only time I ever heard him say anything like that, but I'll tell you what...the girl shut up.  I know I have never forgotten his words, and I bet she hasn't either.

Not long after he retired, he was diagnosed with Parkingson's disease.  He came around less often and when we did see him he walked slower and slower with that textbook shuffle that Parkingson's patients develop.  He did come to therapy for awhile but I have to say he was a TERRIBLE patient.  I guess that saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks" holds true because he usually sat in the gym and told all the other patients what to do instead of doing his exercises himself.  Whenever I would try his old tactics against him and tell him to "Shut up and move!"  He would grin at me and say, "Be quiet Cecelia."  This was a true compliment because he was comparing my nagging to the nagging encouragement of his wife who is a wonderful lady.

I will always remember #174 as a wonderful person and influence on my life.  I will forever be grateful to him for hiring me and treating me as such a valuable asset to his practice from day 1.  I can only hope that when I have moved on from this job, I have made my mark on half as many patients as he made when he worked as a PT.

One final funny story on #174.  He was a life-long tennis player.  All of his kids played tennis (incidently he was the dad of yesterday's post) and he even had a tennis court in his backyard.  He and his wife visited Wimbledon and several other professional tennis matches.  He continued to play until he was in his late sixties/early seventies.  Whoever was lucky enough to be his doubles partner always heard this line.  He would draw a small square around where he stood (about 5'x5') and he would say, "You see this square?  Everything in this square is mine...everything else is yours."  :)  He meant it too!