Bodygaurd

Whenever a doctor enters the waiting room to fetch a family member of mine, we all stand and head to the back like a pack of loyal wolves coveting our leader.

Our family motto: NOBODY goes to the doctor alone.

It's a proven fact in my family that if you're the one being the patient...you don't listen to the diagnosis. So with notebook and pen in hand, the rest of us take notes and ask questions with the same seriousness and intensity that Mr. Mafia man uses for grilling a suspect accused of stealing drugs from his men. I'm sure it's an intimidating site for the doctor...especially if he doesn't have an answer for our problem.

Earlier today, as my name was wedged in between bad elevator music and screaming kids, my mother and I rose to accompany the "how are you today?" sweeter than sweet voice of the waiting room pickup nurse. Armed to the teeth, my mother was foaming at the mouth, waiting to rack my doctor's brain as to why I have all these extra cells growing abnormally in my body.
My mom's attitude is quite contrary to my sweaty hands, nervous speech, self-centered, I must be dying approach.

A billion years and an elevated temper later, the doctor finally walks in and immediately tells me things aren't as bad as they seem. Thanks...couldn't you have told me that over the telephone when you called me to make a second appointment so quickly, my last copay check hadn't even cleared the bank yet? I'm still getting over the "quick, come in before you die" tone of voice from the appointments nurse, that I don't even hear the first paragraph of info that comes out of my doctor's mouth. When I come to, my mom has already catalogued the new vitamins I'll be swallowing, drawn up a diet and exercise program, and added a few questions regarding her own health.

Good thing I didn't decide to go alone. I would've come home with the idea that things aren't as bad as they seem and that the appointments nurse should watch her wording next time...or else. Instead, I can refer to my mother's document A, figure C-1, paragraph 9 to find out what actually happened.

At first it was weird to head to the doctor in a minivan stuffed full of family members, but now it seems essential. I don't know why someone would ever go alone. I mean, grab anyone...just have some backup...a hand to hold, a smile, a warm gesture, a secretary. Whatever it takes to make you feel like you're not dying when all they're asking is if your address on the form is still the same.