Emergency Contact.

Ever been filled with tears filling out doctor's forms? I well up and burrow in denial, until that form faces me.

Emergency Contact: ______________ Phone: ________ Relationship: _______

After my mom died, I went to the doctors, and for about 4 months straight, just left it blank. Every time, the doctors and nurse and hospital staff asked about it, and I always just said I'd fill it in next time. And cry beneath my eyelids.

I don't have one. I don't have a mother. I don't have that automatic deferral of the person who loves you and cares for you. Who knows all about you and gets your emergency information.

I don't want my family to get another phone call like that, nor does our relationship spur 'emergency contact.' No spouse to defer to, no children to write in the blank. No one to fill in their name.

So I wrote down my aunt, and knew she'd oblige. We live states away but at least I know she could take the call if needed. She picks up her cell phone. Knows the medical lingo. And really, knows a lot about me now days too.

So today I finally put a name in. Almost 8 months later. And cried still. Sitting in the hospital room chair, and the doctors office corridor. Just a routine check-up appointment. But everything about it screams to be that nothing is any longer, routine. Because it sparks two things: 1) Emergency and 2) Contact. And leaves me hurt about both and neither.