Roomies

Doctor Mom My mother is a doctor who taught me a lot over the years. Back when I still did odd jobs at the police department—before and kind of during the time Michelle and I became an item—Michelle, Angela, and I were all talking one day in the squad room. A male police officer in full uniform came to question Michelle about a case they were working on. I couldn't help but notice one of his fingernails right away as he gestured with the manila file folder he was holding. “Excuse me, officer?” The young sandy-haired officer turned his hazel eyes toward me quizzically. “You need to get to a doctor right away.” “Oh, do I?” he said with a laugh. “I'm serious. My mother is a doctor, and I learned a lot from her, including what melanoma looks like,” I said, gesturing toward his thumbnail. “That dark stripe? Unless you took a marker and drew it across your nail for some strange reason, I don’t think it’s a bruise.” “I’ve been wondering about this strange phenomenon,” the officer said, inspecting his nail. “It’s weird. Had it for about a week or two now. At first I thought I got something on it.” “Well, I really urge you to get that checked out ASAP. Melanoma is an aggressive skin and nail cancer, and you might need to have it lasered if you wait too long.” “Oh, fun,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Better than dying, though.” Two or three weeks later, he returned on a day when it was just Michelle and me hanging out and chatting. There were a few uniformed cops and plainclothes detectives also in the large squad room, but they were in the opposite corner. “You were right,” the officer said with a big smile as soon as he saw me. “I think you might have saved my life.” “I'm glad you listened to me,” I smiled. “Did they give you oral medication?” “Yes. Again, thanks for saving my butt. I’d ask you out to dinner if I weren’t married.” “And I’d have to turn you down for sporting the wrong equipment.” He and Michelle burst out laughing. From that day forward, I kind of became the household doctor of sorts. While we all knew it was best to get a real certified doctor’s opinion, I would often state what I thought certain things might be, and I was almost always right, thanks to my mom, who is one of my greatest teachers. The others got the honor of meeting her when she came up to visit with Dad one time and were impressed with how young and beautiful she is, insisting she looked more like a model than a doctor with her impressive height, slim figure, long blond curls, and light eyes.