Last month, I went to my dermatologist – to discuss the results of a routine body scan. I’ll call him Dr. Flesh to keep his true name anonymous.
For no particular reason, I was feeling up, the kind of up when all’s right with the world. After checking in, I took a seat and leafed through a copy of Newsweek and Time.
But not for long. The admin assistant called, “Mr. Walshak,” handed me the file with the doctors notes about my past visits and motioned for me to accompany her to one of six waiting rooms. ”The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said as she closed the doctor on her way out.
Curiosity bettered me as I sat in wait. I opened the file and leafed nonchalantly through this and that. And
“MALIGNANT!”, screamed out at me. Malignant!
I looked away and the back. Away and back again. After a moment or so, my body calmed down, thanks to my diaphragm breathing, and logic kicked in. The doctor had never used this word with me. “Surely,” I thought, “a mstake.”
When Dr. Flesh entered, we exchanged amenities, and Icalled his attention to the word. He scanned through his notes and confirmed my logic.He grimaced. “This is a coding error,” he said, and left to get the word excised from his notes. On his return, he assured me the error was corrected. “Malignant” was gone from his notes.
The moral: Remember that the context words are used in can heighten the emotional intensity on readers and listeners.The other moral: Make a habit of checking your doctor’s notes.
As I was leaving, good Doctor Flesh offered a cheery bit of trenchant humor. “This is your lucky day,” he said. “At least, you don’t have skin cancer.”
