always keep close friends on speed dial

given a choice i would have preferred not to have gone through all the drama i went through last week. that said, i wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

as a result of having to damn near cuss one of my mother's doctors out, i'm actually a kinder, gentler more rational person than i was a week ago. i know that sounds contradictory, but it's true. given the circumstances of last monday morning when my 82-year-old mother was undergoing gall bladder surgery, i could have easily gone off on her i-am-better-than-thou-because-i-went-to-medical-school m.d. instead, i maintained my cool and avoided becoming some neck-rolling stereotype from a bad '70s network sitcom.

when i was told by a really kind and supportive nurse that my mother's doctor had ordered her to go home on the same day as her surgery, i immediately pulled out my iphone and rang a pair of former college classmates. to say that they kept me out of jail that afternoon is perhaps an understatement.



first i rang my soror, homegirl and friend rhonda from dayton (she's the one with the red hair in the photo). she got her j.d. from howard. then i rang my soror and friend mary from the atl. she went to unc med school. normally, these aren't really my go-to people for more emotional issues, but on monday i needed advice from a doctor and a lawyer. thankfully, they were both reachable when i rang and asked, "what should i do?" they prepared me well to deal with the ensuing BS.

rhonda reminded me that the doctor was working for me and not vice-versa, so i treated him as i would an employee. mary (below) reminded me that doctors from his "cultural background" tend to look down on people who look like me, so i had to school him on who i was in order to get the end result.


so, when i told the charge nurse that we needed to call the mofo m.d. and chat about my mother being admitted, he had the audacity to tell her that he had already discussed it with me and that he wasn't coming to talk to me even though he was still in the hospital.

breathe. one, two, three, four...don't call him a mofo, don't call him a mofo...

calmly and kindly i said: "either he can talk to me or he can talk to the three lawyers i have on speed dial. it's his choice. she's not leaving this hospital today."

he was there in 20 minutes.

when he started babbling about how the insurance might not pay for it, i again remained calm and said: "don't let these sweatpants fool you. i'm a hampton magna and i know that you can write it in such a way that we won't have any issues with the insurance company. so write it out like you would for your own mother."

he cowered and started telling me what he was going to write.

"cheers," i said.

i'm not afraid of a challenge nor do i shy away from confrontation if it's all up in my face. but if it hadn't been for rhonda and mary talking me through that situation, i may have allowed my temper get the best of me and that would not have been a good thing. "the others" need to learn that you can't mess with black folks and their mamas. you will lose every time and quite possibly get your feelings hurt. as a result of my kinder approach, my mother was admitted and the nurses in the outpatient surgery unit at bethesda north actually applauded me when i left that night.

they know what time it is and i must give them big ups. they totally rocked and had my back every step of the way. they were rewarded with fine chocolates and a dozen cupcakes from graeter's for their efforts. a small, but yummy token of my appreciation.

healthcare in america is scary people. and as much as i adore barack obama, i think it might take the next five administrations to straighten this mess out.

last year on a flight to london i watched michael moore's "sicko." although i already knew that healthcare in the U.S. was pathetic, i really had no idea how bad it was until last monday. if i had been forced to take my mother home she could have had all kinds of complications--especially with her high blood pressure fluctuating. and if it hadn't been for mary telling me ahead of time that all of that could happen, i wouldn't have known any better and probably would have taken her home on Monday evening.

after leaving the hospital last monday i had a long conversation with mary. she's an amazing nethrologist who routinely works 19-hour days running her own office, making hospital rounds and being the primary caregiver for her invalid mother. we usually talk two or three times a week--mostly when she's driving home after yet another long day. just before we hung up that night she said, "i think i've given you the wrong impression of doctors. most of them aren't like me. the difference between me and most of them is that i didn't go to med school right out of college. i waited until i was 30. this was something i wanted to do. many of them are slaves to their income and their bottom line."

she's wrong. i didn't have the wrong impression. i knew there was a vast difference between her and some of the doctors i've dealt with personally. many of them don't possess mary's compassion for their patients. it's hard to find one that puts the patient above the bonus check. that goes for lawyers, too. although rhonda doesn't practice law (she owns a college prep academy), if she did, she'd run her law firm in exactly the same way that mary runs her medical practice.

the right way.

since i was unable to reward rhonda or mary with any artery-clogging pastries, i'll do them one better. i'll give them my most precious possession. my words.