by Jamie Hebert

Created on: May 17, 2008   Last Updated: July 01, 2008

It was one of those days. You know those days when you feel like Murphy's daughter. I was running late, it was raining, pouring down actually, I got lost and had to pull over in the rain and ask for directions only to find that I was only a block away and was heading in the right direction all along. I was irritated (to say the least) and was going to make certain that my client understood just how irritated I was. I got to his apartment complex and, of course, could not find his apartment. The search began all over again. Finally tired of being starred at as I walked from door to door, looking totally defeated and exasperated, I called him. "I cannot find you. Yes, I am at ^*())&. Yes, I am near the playground. Yes, I can walk behind that building. Yes, please wait outside for me." No, this was not going well. My client had been evading me and my peers for two weeks and we had gone out to his place no less than three times. So, why was this so hard? Because I was about to learn something about myself. There was a plan.

I walked around the building as the sun began to peek out from behind the enormously full gray thunder cloud. And there he was, in his chair, smiling. He saw me, called me and said, "Okay, now, do you know where you are?" I replied, smiling, in spite of my day, "Yes, and thank you." Before I knew it he was gone, into his apartment. I made it there and banged on the door. In his chair, he answered and said politely, "So you made it. Come in." No mention of the fact that I was over twenty minutes late. I had to apologize. I was very embarrassed. He smiled again and said, "No problem. We all have our days." And then looked at me with a sympathetic look and whizzed away to the table to pull a chair out. This was not going the way I had planned. I began to feel like I was the one being chastised instead of my client. I had to regain control of this meeting. We went over the paperwork and I explained to him the importance of keeping in contact with our office in order to keep his services going. My client again smiled. I looked over at him and noticed how small he was. He was fully developed, about 21 or 22, and appeared normal except that he was confined to a chair and very small. And, he was good looking. He maneuvered around in his chair, offering me water and smiling the entire time I was there. I began to feel small myself. As my client began to explain his ailments I remained quiet. It suddenly became unimportant to me to be in control. Something

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