Being on a first name basis with my gynecologist has it's advantages. I'm not exactly sure what they are, but I do know that the other patients are slightly curious when I call him "Randy." They either think that he is my neighbor, or a old friend from high school.
The truth is, my gynecologist and I are on a first name basis because of history. We have spent a lot of time together, he and my family. Not only has he delivered two of my four babies, he has also comforted us through two miscarriages and DNC's, a tube removal, and assisted us in countless appointments in his office.
We small talk about family for the first 10 minutes of my "well woman" appointment while I wear a paper poncho and he sits back, relaxed in his chair, crossed legged.
He asks about my husband and his job and I ask about his trips to Mexico to build homes, and the adjustment his oldest is having in high school - wearing my butcher paper lap sheet.
We talk and laugh about the chaos four children can bring, sharing the craziness and struggles.
At the end of the appointment and conversation he leaves with, "It was great to see you Linda, take care and say hi to Greg for me."
"I will Randy, thanks for the - um - you'll let me know if there is anything abnormal?"
"Yep, I'll let you know."
When I jump into my car to exit I text my husband, "Randy says 'hello.'" to which he replies, "hello Randy."
I know, odd, at best.
The truth is, my gynecologist and I are on a first name basis because of history. We have spent a lot of time together, he and my family. Not only has he delivered two of my four babies, he has also comforted us through two miscarriages and DNC's, a tube removal, and assisted us in countless appointments in his office.
We small talk about family for the first 10 minutes of my "well woman" appointment while I wear a paper poncho and he sits back, relaxed in his chair, crossed legged.
He asks about my husband and his job and I ask about his trips to Mexico to build homes, and the adjustment his oldest is having in high school - wearing my butcher paper lap sheet.
We talk and laugh about the chaos four children can bring, sharing the craziness and struggles.
At the end of the appointment and conversation he leaves with, "It was great to see you Linda, take care and say hi to Greg for me."
"I will Randy, thanks for the - um - you'll let me know if there is anything abnormal?"
"Yep, I'll let you know."
When I jump into my car to exit I text my husband, "Randy says 'hello.'" to which he replies, "hello Randy."
I know, odd, at best.
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