Gary's Crazy Legs

Sal had a new client, a young man. Her workload was already stretched but she couldn’t turn this one down, he was going to be a challenge. Sal was a care in the community nurse and her days consisted of administering drugs, giving enemas, fitting catheters and doing dressings for those geriatrics stubborn enough to believe that they had a right to maintain their independence until the bitter end. She could only be confronted by so many rear ends in any given week.

Not only was Gary young but he was also down for occupational therapy. Simplified into one word instead of two, what Gary’s therapy consisted of was stimulation. Sal had been looking forward to the next two hours all week. She had read through Gary’s case file. He was seventeen, attended a special resource centre three days a week and drove his mother demented the other four. What her task actually translated to was get Gary out of his mother’s hair for a couple of hours twice a week. He was a cerebral palsy sufferer, blind, mute, incontinent, epileptic and in big capital letters prone to fits of violence. She couldn’t wait to get her teeth into this one.

She smoothed down her green tunic and matching pants and rang the doorbell. A pretty little girl of about eight answered the door; she didn’t speak, just looked at Sal with big brown eyes. One sock had fallen in dishevelled pleats to her ankle and she had a long scratch on her left cheek. From within the house Sal heard a continuous loud banging.

‘Will you stop banging your head against that bloody wall and get down the stairs? The new woman has come to take you out, God help her. Come on, move it.’

The banging stopped simultaneously with the end of the yelling. Sal had come to make life better for the stretched-to-the-limit family. But in reality, she just the next in a long line of come-and-gone staff. She felt her smile wanting to run off the side of her face but she held it in place by the britches.

What happened next was a blur. The main staircase faced the open front door, the banging and yelling stopped and the child in the doorway still stared at her without speaking. There was an almighty high-pitched scream and this black streak of thing came hurtling down the stairs towards her closely followed, though nowhere near as quickly, by Mrs Greenwood with laundry loaded arms and hair falling over her face from a disobedient pony tail. She didn’t need any introduction as the harassed mother of the scene.

‘Well come in then, don’t just stand there.’

Sal wasn’t sure if the woman meant her or the girl, but stepped in anyway. She had to move fast and ran to the left of the stairs as it seemed the wild creature gliding forwards was going to crash right into her. But he didn’t.

Gary landed with a bump at the bottom of the stairs and scuttled another few feet towards Sal. She winced, though whether at the thought of imminent attack or in sympathy of the loud bump that Gary’s bottom had made on the laminated floor she wasn’t sure. She grabbed at the retreating smile and reinforced it with some teeth.

They regarded each other in an open display of weighing the situation, and the other person, up. Gary’s sightless eyes found her from his seated position on the floor. They flittered constantly left and right but not in time. The perpetual movements rapid and involuntary were like a pair of synchronised swimmers each with their own ideas about the choreography of the dance. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air in front of her. Sal laughed, it was an unforced laugh, Gary was appealing.

‘Hello Gary. You are Gary, aren’t you? You look just like a Gary to me.’ Sal hunkered down so that she was on a level with his face.

Apart form the St. Vitrus eyes the next thing Sal noticed was that Gary had not stopped screaming. As she spoke to him the scream was even more high pitched and louder. He was excited and rocked backwards and forwards, dribbling and waving his arms. Every couple of seconds he nodded his head and clapped his hands three times. He gave every indication of being a child-because that’s how she thought of him-who was pretty damned pleased about things.

And then he was away. As he lunged forward he caught Sal on the side of her arm and knocked her off balance. She fell from her haunches and sprawled on the floor. Gary didn’t care; he was off, making his noise and moving quickly through the first door on the left. He didn’t crawl; he did a strange swing-shuffle with his legs pointing out in front of him. His scrawny arms clearly showed tortioned muscle as he rotated his hands to the floor. With his fingers pointing outwards, hands splayed for balance and stability, he pulled his body up into the air supported on his arms alone and he swung through the swing that his arms had made to land a few feet forwards. The lumbering propulsion shot his legs out in a crazy highland-fling movement and, as his bottom connected with the floor, he’d slide another few feet digging his heels in and moving forward before swinging through his arms again. This mode of getting from one place to the next was clumsy but effective and in a matter of seconds he had pushed the door open and shuffled through.

Sal had a few words with Mrs Greenwood about his understanding and how best to communicate with Gary. She was shown to his room to get the things they needed for their outing. And she made sure that she asked Katie, Gary’s sister, what he liked to do. The little girl came alive behind the eyes and Sal figured that people didn’t ask her opinion very often. It was tough being an able child in a disabled family. Katie spoke in a prim and grown-up voice as she reeled off a lot of things that Gary liked.

Their first session was going to be an assessment session, a chance for Sal and Gary to get to know each other and to find out exactly how much Gary was capable of. Sal had already decided to take him to her home for the main part of their visit. Mrs Greenwood helped load Gary into the front seat of Sal’s car and fasten him in securely. The short drive home was uneventful Sal chatted to him and was touched when he grabbed her arm and pulled it to his nose to smell her. Comforted that it was a good smell Gary was content to rock backwards and forwards and listen to her talking.

If she thought she might have trouble getting him into a strange house she was very wrong. As soon as the car pulled to a stop he became agitated, rocking harder now, aggressively, he was pulling at his belt and moaning. As soon as Sal opened the door and released the catch on the seatbelt, Gary slithered to the floor and was off along the pavement. She had to slam the car door shut quickly and chase after him before he left town. Taking his hand, he was biddable and happy to be led to the front door. But Sal was learning that Gary was a lad of limited patience and as she fumbled to get her key in the lock Gary pounded on the door and making what were obviously his, ‘let me in,’ noises. They were very loud monosyllabic screams that did nothing for Sal’s nerves but proved successful as a neighbour call out alarm. Several doors opened and people came out to see what the noise was about. The door flew wide, aided by a hefty shove from Gary and they stumble-fell into the hall in a bunch of arms and legs.

And then he was off. Sal was left with the open door and an absconded Gary. She heard several loud thumps and then captivating, hysterical laughter. Taking the stairs two at a time she ran to catch up with him and see what he was up to. He was sitting on the landing outside her bedroom between the two flights of stairs. His hands were moving all over the first few stairs of the second flight and he was laughing his head off.

Sal couldn’t understand what was so funny. Gary rushed to the top of the first landing and she grabbed out at him in case he fell headlong down the stairs, but she needn’t have worried, Gary was a stair-veteran. He felt along the top step and then he was back at the second flight feeling them and laughing again.

Then it hit her. Tears formed in her eyes as she realised how something so simple could affect the boy so much. She sat on the landing right next to Gary put her hand over his to be a part of his moment and started laughing too.

Gary only had one flight of stairs at home. To be confronted by two flights was a truly wondrous thing, not to mention a very funny thing.

For the next ten minutes Gary flew up and down both sets, delighted with his extra-flight experience. His crazy legs kept kicking out in that puppety way they had and he made his continuous sounds. After five minutes Sal tried to shut out some of the noise, her nerves beginning to grate with the high-pitched screaming. Mrs Greenwood had coped with this child, day and night, for seventeen years; Sal had put in little over seventeen minutes and was feeling the strain.

‘Hey Gary, lets go downstairs and get a drink, eh?’

He signed, yes, and clapped his hands three times. This seemed to be Gary’s universal sign for being happy. As Sal guided him into the lounge he turned his head back towards the stairs. If blind eyes could ever be said to look wistful then Gary’s did at that moment. His broken mind was still pondering the fact that this new lady, who smelled okay, had two lots of stairs. And then he remembered the drink and began to sign the word over and over again, already, Sal was becoming used to his different range of noises. He rocked and made his frustrated-impatience noise.

She made sure that he was comfortable on the sofa and that there was nothing that he could hurt himself on and went to get him some juice. No sooner had she gone in the kitchen than she heard the lounge door open and the bump, bump, bump of Gary going up the stairs.

The getting-Gary-down-the stairs scene was repeated. And they fought over the half-filled cup of juice. Sal didn’t have a combi-aid beaker at her home and had used an ordinary mug for Gary to drink out of; his retardation and poor co-ordination meant that he needed help to drink. Gary saw no reason to have three hands on the cup when he could easily pour ninety percent of the fluid over himself with just his own two. Sal was treated to her fist baleful glare. He may not have been able to see but that didn’t stop him from having perfected an impressive dirty look.

‘Not pleased, eh, Mister. Look at us, we’re both soaked.’

Gary continued to glare and then turned his attention to his boots. He had specially made thick, leather boots, one of them with a platform sole. He pulled at one of them then looked at Sal and signed, boots. Then he signed something else that Sal didn’t understand. Gary’s mum had customised our recognised British sign language and tailored it to fit Gary’s needs. All the letters were removed and he used only complete words. Gary’s mum had devised most of these, some were straightforward and some needed some thinking about.

‘What’s the matter, Gary? Are you okay? Are your boots too tight? Are they hurting you, mate?’

When he heard the word hurt Gary picked up one of his feet and rocked it as a little girl would a favourite doll; he began to make sobbing noises. The boots did look new; Sal worried that they were rubbing him.

She took off his boots and socks and massaged his feet. He seemed to enjoy it and made no complaint. She examined his feet thoroughly and found nothing to indicate that his feet were sore.

After ten minutes Sal tried to put Gary’s boots back on. The boy thrashed and struggled; he made the dry-eyed sobbing noises and rocked furiously backwards and forwards. He hit out at Sal, punching, kicking and trying to head butt her. She could restrain him or she could put his boots on, doing both wasn’t easy. The boots were back in place. Sal reasoned that it was only until he got back home and then he could take them off. Gary wasn’t convinced.

After going ten rounds with Gary to get his boots on, Sal was exhausted. She let him play on the stairs while she made herself a coffee. This visit was only for assessment purposes and they’d get down to some serious game playing next time. She fed him biscuits and yoghurt, cleaned him down and then, thankfully, it was time to take Gary back home. He was going to be an interesting client and a challenge; there was no denying that he was a handful and very tiring. Sal felt a surge of enormous pity for Gary’s family.

‘Hey, Gary, want to go for a ride in the car?’

Yes, and three happy-claps.

Sal steeled herself for battle.

‘I’ll tell you what then, Buster? I’ll take you home in my car if you stand up and walk properly. What do you say?’

Gary didn’t say anything; he just slithered off the sofa onto his bottom and shuffled towards the door.

It said in Gary’s notes that his disabilities made walking difficult for him, but that he could, and should, be encouraged to walk short distances.

‘Oh no you don’t, big fella. Come on lets have you up on those feet.’ Sal grabbed Gary under his arms and hoisted him up into a standing position. Gary giggled, he thought it was a game. As soon as Sal released her hold on him he slumped to the floor.

She forced as much authority as she could manage into her voice.

‘Gary, stand up please.’ This was a no nonsense; I’m-taking-no-prisoners command.

Gary responded to the telling off tone of voice by sulking. He put his head down and pointedly ignored Sal.

‘Now Gary, please,’ she said in an even harsher tone.

He picked his foot up, the other one this time, and made his sobbing noise.

‘Oh come on, Gary, it’s only for a few feet just to the car, that’s all.’
He did a one-eighty turn on his bottom and sat with his back very expressively towards her.

‘Okay Gary, you listen to me. You aren’t some crippled little victim to be written off. I know you’ve got problems, lots of them, and your world might turn a whole lot differently to mine, but you are not going to shuffle as long as you are with me, okay? Tell you what; I’ll make you a deal. You can make-like-a-monkey when we are in your house or here, but when we’re out, you standing up and walk properly. Deal?’

Sal knew that Gary’s intellect was far too limited to understand what she was saying, but she needed to talk to him like an adult. Then, just occasionally, her words would reach through the disability and touch the adult trapped inside.

He was still ignoring her.

‘Would you like some chocolate, Gary?

No problem with any of that particular selection of words, Gary turned round on his bottom faster than the girl’s head in the exorcist could spin.

Yes, three claps. It seemed she was forgiven.

‘Ok, you can have some chocolate in the car, if you get up and walk properly.’

Without any hesitation Gary used the chair by the living room door to pull himself upright and lurched towards Sal.

Hah, she thought, bribery gets `em every time. This kid understood a lot more than he let on. She had the measure of him.

‘Good Gary, well done, mate.’ She crossed her forearms and took hold of his hands.

They were in position to do a palsied rendition of the Gay Gordons. This position for assisting him meant that if Gary fell forward he would fall against Sal’s forearms and with them being crossed; she would be able to support him and lower him to the ground without either of them getting hurt. Well, that was the theory anyway.

She could see why Gary preferred to shuffle-swing on his bottom. He could move that way as fast as most other people could walk. Once up on his feet he was very disabled. His body bent hard over to the left and into Sal’s side. His leg flung itself out in mid air before clumsily re-connecting with the ground just a measly few inches further on. Gary could walk, but he saw no logic in it and chose not to. By the time Sal had helped Gary out to the car her lower back was hurting with the way Gary was hanging on her and using her weight to support his own.

She regretted the chocolate idea when she saw the mess of Gary, herself, and her car when he’d finished. He was an expert dribbler. Every few minutes he would grab Sal’s sleeve and sniff her just to make sure she was the same person. Her uniform was covered in chocolaty hand-prints and her hair was a sticky mess.

Sal was explaining that, when they got home, she’d like Gary to walk into the house properly when Gary made an unusual noise in his throat to get her attention. She turned to look at him. He was smiling at her. It was a beautiful, wide, chocolaty grin.

Sal’s face broke into an involuntary wide smile back at him and then it froze in horror.

Smack.

Gary’s hand shot up and he slapped her on the side of her forearm with all of his force.

‘Ow,’

Slap. He hit her again.

And again.

He was laughing the same hysterical laugh as when he’d discovered the two flights of stairs but it wasn’t sweet now.

She was trying to keep her eyes on the road. Every time Gary hit her she raised her forearm to try and block the blow.

Smile.

Slap.

Laughter.

Over and again he hit her. Sal was on a roundabout; traffic was coming from all directions. Her eye was bleeding from one of the slaps that she hadn’t managed to block properly. Gary’s long nail had caught her at the side of her left eye. She had to try and pull over.

‘Gary. Stop it,’ she screamed. Her voice carried no authority just a rising note of hysteria.

‘For God’s sake stop it.’

Gary laughed.

A car swerved, its horn yelling at her in a long angry beep.

She took an exit off the roundabout, not the one she wanted, but she had to find somewhere safe to stop. Tears were stinging her eyes and still the slaps were raining down on her arms and head.

She pulled over and mounted a pavement in her need to stop the car quickly.

Gary stopped hitting her. He was still laughing and making a strange grunting noise.

An awful smell filled the car and Gary found this funny too.

Sal hadn’t said a word; she nursed her badly bruised arm and felt the tender flesh at the side of her face. She was shaking and almost crying from the shock. They could have been killed. Gary’s notes had said that he could be violent and yet she was sent out alone to take him in her car. Why the hell didn’t they have a carer to restrain Gary while she drove?

He pulled the top of his jog-pants down while at the same time lifting his bottom from the car seat. With one forceful jerk he pulled the conti-pad loose from its fastenings and yanked it up and out of his pants. A dollop of loose excreta landed on the windscreen of Sal’s car and the stench was overpowering. She quickly wound her window down. Gary dropped the laden incontinence pad at his feet and trod the mess all over his boots.

At least he was calm now. All Sal wanted was to get to his house and get him dropped off before anything else happened. She found that while she was trapped in the car with him she didn’t dare speak in case her voice set off another unprovoked attack.

With shaking hands she leaned forward and turned the music on.

This produced three happy-claps from Gary.

She turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, released the handbrake and set off slowly. For the first few minutes everything was fine. Three streets down, only a few more to go and she’d have him home safe and sound. Please God, just let him stay calm.

She pulled up at traffic lights and chanced a quick look at him. She watched his face change from serenely calm to a baleful frown. He didn’t like it when the car stopped. Gary liked the sensation of movement, so that’s what had set him off.

His face broke into the beautiful happy-smile.

Sal’s blood turned cold. Oh Christ no, it was that same smile again. She knew it now. It wasn’t a beautiful smile, it was a sly smile. It was the expression that told her his mind was working on mischief.

Sal also noticed with the lack of his pad that he had an erection. The violence and hysteria in the car was exciting him. The only way he knew how to deal with such a feeling was by hitting out. The situation was out of control and Sal felt as though she needed help. Her superiors should never have put her in this position.

Smack.

This time instead of hitting her, he banged the side of his head with incredible force against his window. The window moved with the impact but held.

Smack.

He did it again. She couldn’t see from her side if he’d damaged himself but he couldn’t hit something that hard and not at least be bruised.

Controlling the car with her right hand and looking for somewhere to stop, she grabbed Gary with her left.

‘Gary, stop it,’ she screamed at him. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself’

The panic in her voice delighted Gary and he started to laugh wildly. Spittle flew from his mouth, some of it hitting the windscreen and sliding down to come to a stop when it hit the splodge of excrement that had held steady on the glass.

Taking advantage of the fact that Sal’s left arm was across his chest trying to pull him away from the window, he reached out with his right hand and groped for a handful of Sal’s hair. Her head was facing front drawing to a stop alongside the road.

He pulled her head down by her hair and head butted her.

The blow hit her at the side of her head and she screamed. She had to find a telephone box to call somebody out to help her. But she was on a road with no phone box and no houses. Only two more streets to go and she’d have him home. He was headbutting the window again. What should she do? Wait for help to come along? Flag down a passing car? Just drive? The roads were quieter now that she was out of the centre of town. Two minutes, just two more minutes and she could have him home. She made the decision to drive. Tears were streaming down her face and her left eye was already swelling shut.

‘Listen Gary,’ she turned to him and grabbed both his forearms. Her fingers dug deeply into his wrists not caring if she hurt him, not caring if she left marks. Her only concerns here and now were getting the boy back to where he belonged. She moved her head out of his line of contact so that he couldn’t butt her. She risked moving one arm and turned the music off before quickly grabbing him again.

He went mad thrashing his body all over the place and trying to butt anything he could make contact with, the best he could manage was the soft foam of the seat’s headrest.

‘Now you just listen to me,’ her voice was back in control, her grip strong and firm. She felt anything but in control, she was terrified, angry, shocked, but her movements and voice gave every impression of not being intimidated.

Gary wilted and hung his head in defeated a sulk.

‘You want the music back on, huh?’

He nodded his head and tried to move his hands to sign yes.

‘Yes you do? I thought so. Are you going to behave?’

Yes.

If I put the music on will you stop hitting me?

Yes.

She released one of his hands.

‘I’ll put the music back on for you, but you have to be good, okay?’

He nodded his head and signed yes.

Sal leaned over and turned the dial.

Gary smiled, raised his hand and hit her hard on the arm.

Sal turned the music off. Gary hit her. She grabbed his arms; as long as they were stationary she had the training and strength to restrain him.

‘Damn you Gary. Stop it.’

She screamed loudly in his face. She wanted to slap him. She had a strong urge to take her hand and strike his face as hard. This new feeling of aggression frightened her as much as anything that had happened that day, she took a deep breath. Her sudden aggression had made Gary wilt again. He no longer had an erection. He seemed to be biddable again.

Once again she asked him if he wanted music and again he promised to behave if she put it on.

She leaned forward and turned the stereo back on and began to drive. One more corner. Mirror indicate, glance at Gary sitting quietly. Turn. Glance at Gary sitting quietly. The house was in sight. Glance at Gary sitting quietly. And she pulled up outside.

The door opened and Mrs Greenwood stood on the step. She was smiling and waving at Gary. Sal raised her arm.

She went round to Gary’s side of the car, opened his door and released his belt. He slid to the floor.

‘Oh no you don’t, come on Gary, up on your feet please.’

Gary made his pathetic sobbing noise all the fight gone. Sal sarcastically thought, he’s tired bless him.

‘I said get up. Now get up please.’ Sal barked this order at him mindful of the fact that Mrs Greenwood was watching and listening to see how Sal dealt with her son. There was not the merest hint of warmth in Sal’s tone and if Gary’s mother had any problems with that, then she could just damned well take it up with her boss. Sal had had enough and was beyond caring.

Gary tried to get away from Sal and shuffle to his mum. Sal blocked his way with her leg and refused to let him by. Mrs Greenwood never moved.

‘I said get up.’ She yelled this in the boy’s face.

Gary used Sal’s leg to help him to his feet. He let it be known from his expression that he was sulking and was not happy about being bullied in this manner.

‘Good lad.’

Sal walked Gary over to the door. Completely ignoring his mother’s hellos he was on his bum and off up the stairs to his room as soon as he could snatch his hand away from Sal’s.

‘I see he’s been naughty,’ said Mrs Greenwood eyeing the blood and bruises on Sal’s face. ‘He always tries it on with new people. I like the way you handled him, he needs someone. I think he likes you.’

‘If that’s how he treats people he likes.’ said Sal, ‘I’d hate to see what he does to enemies. I can’t take him out in my car alone again. I’m going to have to arrange a meeting to ask to have someone with me. We nearly had several accidents on the way home.’

Mrs Greenwood shook her head. ‘Good luck with that. We’ve asked over and over again, but Social Services say it only needs one person with the relevant qualifications to deal with him.’

‘Oh, by the way,’ she said as she was leaving, ‘I think it might be an idea to get his feet checked. He’s been complaining that his boots are hurting him.’

Mrs Greenwood laughed and for the first time Sal saw the love and pride she had for her son that was so often masked by tiredness and frustration.

‘Oh that old trick. There’s nothing wrong with his boots, he just doesn’t like wearing them so he tells anyone who will listen that his feet are hurting.’ Both women laughed.

‘I take it you won’t be back?’ Jenny Greenwood was blunt and stared at the black eye and cuts to Sal’s face.

‘Thursday, four o’clock?”

‘Yep,’ smiled Jenny.

‘See you then.’

Sal worked with Gary for over two years. Sometimes, just occasionally, she would stop between her two flights of stairs and smile. It was funny to have two flights of stairs, wasn’t it?