Member-only story
COMMUNITY
The Shame of Being Alone
No, I don’t have an emergency contact, but thanks for reminding me
I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it clearly does bother me or I wouldn’t still be thinking about it weeks later. And saying “Just let it go” is as useful as when men tell you to smile. You get the exact opposite result (or a knife to the chest if you’re a man telling me to smile).
My gastroenterologist’s office insists on seeing me once a year before they’ll refill my supercharged Pepcid script. It’s literally Pepcid. Just give me the Pepcid.
“Hi, I have an eleven o’clock with Carrie? Potter?”
The receptionist shuffled some papers and clicked some keys. “Let’s just review your infor — “
“It’s all the same.”
Lady, I’m a human turtle. I never move.
Click, click, click.
“And who is your emergency contact?”
She looked up at me expectantly.
Long, confused pause.
“I don’t have one,” I said.
Angrily?
Yeah, probably angrily, because I had just realized I didn’t have an emergency contact. When I was at this office last year I did have an emergency contact…
