Slave Driver

Definition of Slave Driver

A demanding, unyielding task master.

Someone who makes people work very hard.

Who would have thought that a petite, 5'4" young woman could be a slave driver? She is my Occupational Therapist and it surprises me at how much she can get me to do.

Soft-spoken, sweet, and gentle she explains to me that she will help me do things that because of my broken ankle I am unable to do them. On her first visit she helped me by gathering my clothing, bandages, towels, soap, shampoo/conditioner and lotion so I could shower.  After I was dry and wrapped in a towel, she dried my feet and smeared them with lotion. She bandaged me up again and told me I had done very well.

The following visit she said, "Get your walker and we will go into the kitchen. Now, sit down on the kitchen chair."  I told her that I usually sit in the wheelchair. She said, "You need to practice getting into other chairs." After I was seated in a kitchen chair she said, "Okay, now go to the sink and wash your dishes." I stood at the sink and washed a few dishes in the sink, rinsed them and put them on the rack to dry.  "Good,
now let's try sweeping the kitchen." I looked at her and asked, "How? I'm in a walker." She smiled her sweet
smile and said, "Let's see what you can do." I went to the pantry where I keep my broom, got it out and  tried sweeping the floor as I balanced myself as I held on to the walker. "I need the dust pan," I said with the thought that maybe she would get it for me. No sympathy from her as she said, "You can get it." I told her it was at the rear of the pantry. She said, "Let's see how you figure out how to get it."

I had to scoot sideways since the pantry door is not wide enough for the walker. I then scooted out holding the dust pan. When I had gathered the dirt into the dust pan and dumped it into the trash, she said, "Very good, you did a good job! Next time, we can work on something you would like to do. Is there anything that bothers you?" I said, "My refrigerator needs cleaning."  She smiled and replied with,"That's what we will do the next time I come." Sure enough, on her next visit she arrived ready to have me clean the refrigerator.  I said, "Do you know what, I do not feel like cleaning the refrigerator today.  I am not in the mood for that kind of chore."

"Okay, she said, "let 's see what else we can do for your therapy. Let's go into the other room and we will practice getting up from the floor." Now, even without a 2 1/2 pound boot on my leg and no broken ankle, I have problems getting off the floor. "You're kidding."

"No, you need to know how to get up  if you should fall." Again, that sweet smile. My reply was:  "Do you know what, I would rather clean the refrigerator." And that is what I did. Trays out, wash, rinse, replace and all of this while holding on to my walker. Okay, so her reverse psychology worked!

Today she arrived and we took a walk outside.  For me it was like seeing the world with brand new glasses. Nine weeks of being a prisoner inside made me appreciate the sunny outdoors.  Leaves were on the ground and my neighbor was putting up Christmas decorations.  Nothing really changes, only I had changed!

Going out the idea is "bad foot down first" and coming in it was "good foot up first."  When we were inside again, we were sitting and chatting on the couch. She suggested lifting the couch by putting garden stones to raise it.  "Raising the sofa would make it easier for you," she suggested. Then, she slid off the couch and sat on the floor.  She asked me to do the same thing. As we sat on the carpet she said, "Okay, not get back up on the couch."

For half an hour I struggled.  No matter which way I turned, what I tried, I could not get back up on the couch.  She smiled and said, "I know you can do it.  Rest, and try again." Finally, I got on one knee and was almost half way up but the pain in my knee made me sit down again. I told her that I do not even kneel in church because of my bad knees. All she said was, "You will figure out a way, I know you will."

After a few more attempts, I managed to crawl up on the couch. I felt anger that she made me work so hard but also proud that I had accomplished such a simple task. As we both enjoyed the comfort of the couch she said, "Next week we can do whatever you want." I mumbled something like, "Well, it certainly won't be sitting on the floor!" She thought that was funny.

Next week, when the doorbell rings, I am tempted not to answer the door!