Yesterday, I had an early morning appointment with surgeon who looked at my right hand. A doctor who had worked with my mom (a nurse) at the hospital ever since the beginning of his residency more than 15 years ago.

It was rather strange to see my mom in her second home. I had always considered to be very Chinese–a dragon lady type where she wasn\’t afraid to stand up for herself even in the face of adversity. Sometimes to me, it was a little much–when I was younger, I was embarrassed in times when we were at a store and my mom started arguing with the cashier over a difference of a dollar in her heavily accented English.

Her fellow co-workers, other nurses, greeted her warmly. One enveloped her in a hug as we were being led to an examination room. \”Oof, I can\’t breathe,\” she said to him in her usual frank way.

I laughed and scooted around her co-worker. We sat in the examination room while my mom commented on how long it was taking. The appointment was at 7:45 am and it was already 8:30 am. Finally, the doctor arrived and immediately gave my mom a warm hug. He extended his hand and I shook it. \”Do you know how long your mom and I have worked together?\” he asked me.

I simply nodded and smiled. It was odd how the rapport my mom had at the hospital–the gentle joking common with close bonds–something absent in our family where it\’s all practicality and order. While we were looking at my x-rays, my mom asked about the recovery period for the surgery. The doctor simply ignored her question and turned around, \”You didn\’t get me anything for my birthday!\”

My mom laughed. He turned toward me, \”I am giving your mom a hard time.\”

The doctor put an ASAP request on a MRI requisition even though it wasn\’t urgent. \”Just so that you don\’t have to wait,\” he said giving me a pat on the shoulder.