There's a knock-knock at the door. It startles me by it's forcefulness--almost too purposeful. The force of the knock makes me want to defy it's knocker and not answer. Pretend like 'oh, were you knocking' just to make a point that the knocking was over-done. But, I'm not that calloused. Not yet.
'Hello...' he looks at his note pad, 'Stephanie?'
'Yeah.'
'Hi--I'm Peter. I understand you hurt your knee in soccer?'
'No. Squash. Hard left.'
'Oh. That's right. On your....the back of your left knee? Well--it looks like we're going to do some ultra sound therapy today. Have you had ultra-sound before?'
'Nope.'
'Do you know anything about ultra-sound?'
I just shake my head. Swinging my legs from the side of the exam table has become a chore by now--let's just get this over with. I've been reduced to one word answers or gestures, if possible.
'Well, ultra sound is a, basically it's crystal in the head of the machine that has sound waves passed through it and, well, essentially provides a 'deep heat' or 'deep massage' to the injured area bring blood to the area to support healing.'
'Hm. That IS basic.' Actually, it's pretty fascinating. Something like a naturally occurring crystal being used as an effective, widely accepted tool in modern medicine.
'So, I'm going to get you lie on your stomach. Yup...ok...and I'm going to put this pillow under your stomach for comfort...'
This is incredibly awkward and not comfortable.
'Comfortable?' he asks me.
'Yup.'
'Ok--now I'm going to put some ultra sound gel on your knee and then on the head. This gel is just to aid in the transmission of the sound waves into your tissues---it's a little cold...sorry.'
'Oh. That's...cold.' Tres amusant. It's not cold. But it's like choosing your battles in 3rd world medicine--is it harmless, harmful or helpful? In this case telling Peter, no, the gel is not cold, would be harmless yet I'm sure would lead to a thorough examination of my thermal sensations. So, for now, yes, the gel is cold. That's the right answer.
'Ok--well, I'm going to keep the head moving to avoid burning you'.
'Thanks.'
'So, we'll do this for 5 minutes.' Pete's breathing is returning to it's resting state--poor kid. At least this time gives him a chance to collect his thoughts.
As we both continue playing in this ridiculous tableaux the examiner is also catching up--making notes, shading in little circles, waiting for the student to do the right thing...or the wrong thing.
This 5 minutes of active therapy, ('please, demonstrate your technique for 5 minutes,') is boring for all of us. Not only that but after a while the paranoia sets in and we all start wondering if we're not doing something crucial that we should be doing.
The examiner is thinking--what did I miss? Has it been 5 minutes yet?
I'm thinking--have I forgotten an important piece of information? What is Peter thinking? I hope he's not thinking things up to talk about or trying to figure out if he's missed an important piece....
And no doubt, Peter's thinking 'this is too easy? What did I miss?'
It's at this point, around the 3.5 minute mark, about the time the spot on the back of my leg begins to get irritated by the osculating attention that I'm tempted to toss poor Peter a bone. He's desperately searching for something crucial he's missed. He needs something, he wants it, even if it isn't scripted--'why isn't the examiner stopping me? Is she waiting for me to figure out the REAL problem? Is there something serious I missed?' When suddenly I begin seizing and I topple to the floor writhing and shaking on the laminate floor. It wasn't my squash injury that's caused my leg to hurt--it's thrombophlebitis and I'm having a stroke!
No--that's too dramatic. Peter might cry under the stress.
Instead I begin to cry---I'm really a recluse and I purposely injured my knee just to so I could be touched on a regular basis. No...that's too psychological. I might try that on a med student, but not a physiotherapy student. I also toss the 'abuse' idea around--but again--too psychological.
In the end I contemplate just laying my head down...closing my eyes for a second...or two. It's been such a long day--and this is my last exam scenario for this class of physio students.
Suddenly the whistle blows and I'm back in character--'All done, Stephanie.' Peter wipes the gel off my leg along with the sweat from his forehead that dripped on my leg, mingling in with the gel, providing a better transmission solution no doubt.
