The GI Joe

It is challenging to draw a sense of accomplishment from my job when I invest the majority of my time migrating from meeting to meeting on a non-stop carousel. What I do enjoy about a career in human services is that my clients give me the opportunity to view life from a different perspective. There is a lesson to be learned when a developmentally disabled person takes timeout of their life to inject humor into the lives of those more fortunate.

Prescott Hinkling is a severely retarded client on my caseload worthy of such admiration. He makes me feel alive and thereby makes my own troubles pale in comparison. An adult male, his mannerisms remain child-like but he is affectionate, loving, and a pleasure to be around. He employs such a flamboyant manner of speaking that it bends ears listening to him. His voice can be described as a high-pitched squeal and his language incorporates indisposable nicknames for people. Understanding his speech and locomotive labeling is a listener’s challenge.

At a meeting, I began to review the list of professionals who are involved in Prescott's medical care. Under an umbrella of tender loving care we identified his primary physician, dentist, psychiatrist and neurologist. The father assured team members that the current list was complete. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Prescott squirm in his wheelchair before uttering a single word.

“Don’t forget the ass man.” reminded Presscott.

“What did you say?” I asked half hearing him.

A smiling Presscott repeated the omission. “Don’t forget the ass man.”

The father clarified, “Ugh, that would be the gastrointerologist.”

Prescott added, “The GI Joe.”

At the risk of sounding ass backwards, I will defend to my wit’s end that human intelligence cannot be solely measured by standardized testing.