The Hydro Therapist

Upon graduating high school I felt on top of the world. I was eighteen and earning my own way with my first real job. I was a forklift driver at a Best Buy warehouse, and I loved that job, mainly because I was really good at handling a forklift, and I really knew my way around that warehouse. I was making enough money, that after only 3 months on the job I had been able to save $1,100 dollars toward buying my dream car. I had everything from magazine cut-outs to full size posters of Mustangs all over my bedroom. I simply loved Mustangs, and I didn’t care what year I was able to afford as long as it was in great condition.

I also had steady girlfriend. Her name was Sharon Kelby, and she didn’t seem to mind that we had to double date if my mom’s SUV wasn’t available, even though it really bothered me. To me, cars were like tiny apartments you could drive to a secluded place and have sex with your girlfriend. Sharon was always up for sex, and didn’t seem to mind doing it in my mom’s SUV. But I minded, I minded a lot. So, getting my own Mustang was so important that I was actually only saving for a down payment, and so I was almost ready to buy when this story really begins.

This all started on a Monday that was like all other Mondays. Gary Powers, my best friend, who was also a forklift driver at Best Buy, stopped by to give me a ride into work. Gary owned a Chevy Camaro, a car he loved as much as I loved Mustangs, and so he was always happy to show it off by giving me ride to work. I know it shouldn’t have, but that set my mind off on a wrong track that morning.

Now I need to mention here that our warehouse was completely closed in, so our forklift trucks were electric so they wouldn’t pollute the air. They had huge batteries that weighed almost a thousand pounds, so our forklifts were still pretty fast and powerful, especially when they were fully charged. After clocking in, Gary and I went directly to the charging stations to get our forklifts. There were two other guys already there who were shooting the breeze while getting their forklifts off of the chargers. Gary joined their conversation, so I was the first to get my forklift disconnected. And because of that, I got a little cocky and decided to show off my driving skills by spinning a couple of doughnuts right in front of the charging stations. It was all great fun at first. But then my forklift almost tipped over, and while trying to regain control I ran into one of the charging stations. Everyone, including Gary, laughed, but I was both sick and angry with myself. Because there were so many witnesses to my reckless behavior there was no way I could claim my accident was an unpreventable. So I went to the office and told my boss what I had done. He was real nice about the whole thing, only telling me that he hoped I had learned my lesson, and that I would have to pay for the damage I had caused. I thought that was fair, and so agreed. What else could I do? Everyone had seen that I was showing off.

Three days later my boss presented me with paperwork that itemized the damages I had caused to the charging station to be $948.00, which almost wiped out my savings account. That meant that after working three and a half month I only had $150.00 saved toward my Mustang. That would have been bad enough, but there were video surveillance cameras all over the warehouse, including at the charging station. So even though my boss considered the matter closed after I had paid him for the damage I’d caused, two days after that his boss saw the surveillance tapes, and demanded that I be fired.

I was devastated. I started looking for a new job that same day. I checked the ‘help wanted ads’ every day and eventually came up with two good warehouse prospect. But once they discovered why I had been fired from Best Buy, they both dropped me like a hot potato. I was depressed and desperate by that point. I would have taken any job that offered decent pay, which is why I applied for a night janitor’s position at a local chiropractic office. Strangely, the interview for that job was at six in the evening, and it was conducted by one of the two chiropractic doctors who owned the clinic. He was a very attractive man, seemingly in his mid-forties. And even though he was wearing a white doctor’s coat, I could tell he was quite fit.

But what I really noticed about him, was the way he looked at me. It’s hard to explain, but he seemed kind of hyper focused on me all through that interview, to the point that I felt he could see right through me. His gaze was so intense that I couldn’t help answering any question he asked, even if it had little to do with being a janitor. And by that I don’t just mean about my reckless forklift accident, but about almost everything that had happened in my life up until that point. He wanted to know what classes I took in high school, and what my hobbies were. He wanted to know about my friends, and how I felt about them. And he particularly wanted to know about Sharon Kelby. I couldn’t help myself. I told him everything, including my hopes and dreams for my future, and even my fears of falling short of my parent’s expectations for me, a fear I’d had since I was a boy.

One of the reasons I was so open with that doctor, was that for reasons I didn’t understand I felt that liked me. But then he took me totally by surprise by stating that he just couldn’t see me as a night janitor. Disappointment swept over me, but I was pretty much used to that by that point, so I simply thanked him for his time and started to rise from my chair so I could leave. But then he went on to say, “No, even though you’re kind of young, and I know that will make some people uncomfortable, I see you more as a Hydro Therapist.”

To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what a hydro therapist was, and so didn’t know what to think about his comment. So I said, “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t even know what that is.”

He just looked at me for a moment, still as if he were looking right through me, and then said, “Yea, I could tell that by the look on your face. But the important thing is, I think you’re a bright enough young man that you could certify for that position, and it pays a whole lot more than the janitor job you are applying for.” And then he asked, “Do you like people?”

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I said, “Sure, I am one, so I like them a lot.”

He sat quietly for a moment just looking at me. And then came the real shocker when he asked, “Do you know what an enema is?”

A flush of embarrassment washed over me as the meaning of that unexpected question ricocheted through my head. I wanted to lie, but Dr. Reynolds had already conditioned me to be truthful, so I simply said, “Yea”. I thought I should say more, but I didn’t know what that more should be, so I remained painfully silence until he asked, “Well, have you ever had one?”

I thought that question was almost too personal to answer, so I for the first time since meeting Dr. Reynolds, I dodged his question by asking, “One what, sir?”

“An enema,” he said, “Has anyone ever given you an enema?”

I was all but paralyzed with embarrassment, so that time I lied and said, “Yea, once when I was real young, but I hardly remember anything about it.”

He looked at me with a cryptic smile on his face as he said, “I don’t believe that.”

I kept my eyes on him as I said, “Well, it’s true, Sir. My mom gave me one when I was probably six or seven years old.”

“That I believe, George.” Which was the first time he called me by my given name. Then he went on to say, “What I don’t believe, is that you hardly remember anything about it. The subject seems to embarrass you far too much for that to be true. In fact, I’d bet that you remember almost everything about it.”

I looked to the floor knowing he that he already knew more about me than I was comfortable with, and so wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment, so I said, “George is my father. Everybody just calls me Georgie.”

“Okay, Georgie, what do you say? Would you like to start training to become a Certified Hydro Therapist? Administering enemas is a very important job, and it would make you part of our professional staff, not to mention pay you a whole lot more than the night Janitor’s position.”

It was as if an image of a Mustang lit up in my head like a neon sign, as I said, “Well, in that case I think I would really like to give it a try.”

There were a few pleasantries exchanged after that, and instructions for me to return that following evening. But that basically marked the end of my first meeting with Dr. Reynolds.