So, I went to the dentist today.  I’m not a fearful type of person when it comes to going to the doctor and things like that - having so many babies rid me of that, but I dread going to the dentist….seriously!

Being in the dentist’s chair is one of my earliest memories - probably because they say your long term memory is fuzzy at four, unless it’s something spectacular….OR TRAUMATIC!!!!

Anyway, I was thinking as I was back in the chair…again - (for a deep scraping of my teeth below the gum-line…sound fun?  Oh, it was…but I digress).  ….anyway, I was thinking as the hygienist soothingly asked if I was “okay” about how some of the scariest times in my life have included referring to me by my “given” name:  Angela.

It would go something like this:

• “Are you okay, Angela?”
• “Can you hear me, Angela?”
• “Just relax and count backwards from 100, Angela.”
• “Do you have any allergies we should know about, Angela?”
• “You’re just reacting to that medication (and hallucinating!), Angela - no one is trying to steal your baby!….”

….I could go on.

As I sat there, in that chair, I thought about the difference between when someone calls me by my formal name, and when they just call me, “Angie”….the difference is how well they know me.

When someone really knows me…the real me - and they say my name, it’s so much more comforting than the sterile use of my legal name that has been typed onto some document somewhere….

…and isn’t it odd that at those times when you need comfort and assurance the most, you are more likely to be called something other than what those who know you best call you.

So, I guess what I’m saying is:

If you ever happen upon me in a desperate state and find yourself needing to say to me things like:

“Stay with me!” or “Help is on the way!”….or “Don’t go toward the light!” - just, please, do me a favor and end it with the word “Angie“…

…then I’ll know you’re my friend.

Just another random conversation I’ve had with myself…..me, myself…and “Angie”!

Peace.