Credibility

DISCLAIMER: It's not my intention to politicize this blog. But an unforeseen consequence of our situation is that it is suddenly so very apparent what effect group decisions (ie. laws) are having on our lives, and potentially could on anybody's. 


Yesterday was our first meeting with the oncologist. Although it was informative, a lot is still in the air and pending the results of her second biopsy (results which should be gotten today), so I don't have much to say about "the plan" just yet. But I noticed something peculiar. And it helped me put my finger on something that has bothered me for a long time.

DOCTOR: Hello, I'm the Doctor. And you must be the Patient? And this must be your... (and this is where it happened) husband? 


PATIENT: Yes, this is my husband, Jason. (Note: my wife hasn't been using her name over at her blog. I'm not sure if that's intentional or it just hasn't come up. But until I clear it with her, I'm not going to, either. I do, however, have no problem using mine)


DOCTOR: Oh. And how long have you been married?


You probably didn't catch what happened there. It's a hard thing to document in written dialogue, and I'm not even sure my wife caught it while she was actually there. So I'll tell you. The oncologist wanted to know who I was. She wanted to know how important it was to address me and make sure that I was as equally informed as The Patient. Even after establishing that we were married, she wanted to know for how long to better help her establish an answer to this question. There was only a split second where it was obvious to me that this question was more than just innocent small talk, but it was enough.

In relaying this story to a friend last night, she got upset that a doctor might even attempt to make that consideration, that it is none of their business. While I certainly understand this point of view. I don't necessarily agree. Our oncologist has probably helped billions and billions of cancer patients. And each time she meets them for the first time, they are likely to invariably have brought along some sort of emotional support. It's only natural for our oncologist to have seen the entire range of the gamut, from spouses and siblings, to neighbors. And it's not all the same.

Here's the part that matters: she was establishing my credibility. She was trying to do it in a way that didn't make it apparent to me (even though she failed) that she was calling into question my credibility, and thus it had to happen quickly. Two tiny bits of information. Married. One year. That's all she needed. I did not say "We've been married for about a year but were together long before that. In fact, we first started dating ten years ago, even though we were not together when I enlisted." That would be a more accurate representation of my credibility.

What I'm getting at is that I've always wanted to buy into the ideal that "marriage is institutionalized." That marriage is unnecessary. That if you really love somebody then "you don't need a piece of paper to tell you to love them." That is most certainly true. But marriage lends credibility to others. It allows complete strangers to make a quick and accurate picture of just who this person is in your life. By only telling the doctor that we've been married for just one year I bought more credibility than if we were boyfriend and girlfriend and told her that we'd been together for ten.

That's why it's important. That's why marriage is a right. That's why every person alive should get to have the ability to say, "This is my partner. This is who I love and am going to spend the rest of life with, and this is who I want you to respect as my partner, and give all necessary information to. And share pertinent decision-making details, because this is who is going to be helping me make those decisions. I trust this person more than anybody else. And so you should trust them, too." 


Everybody should have this right. Everybody. And it shouldn't be trivialized.