“I got this letter that says I have an ‘encounter,’ ” Mom said over the phone just as Stan put dinner on the table. “It says, ‘Encounter date: February 18, 2010, 12:00 a.m.’”

“That’s midnight yesterday, ” I said.

“It says it was mailed on February 18, 2010,” she added.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Read me the letter.”

The letter was from Mom’s cardiologist, the text a series of multiple-choice statements that, added together, said she is due for an echocardiogram. At least, that’s what I deduced from the phone call. When we stopped by her apartment this afternoon to deliver a batch of prescription refills, she had the letter and the postmarked envelope waiting for me to inspect it.

Sure enough; it said what I thought it said, but at the top, just under the letterhead, it had fields for the patient’s name, address, date of birth, account number, phone number and “Encounter Date,” with the date and impossible time that Mom had read to me. The template should probably be changed to just “Date.”

Months ago, I noticed on statements we received from our family doctor and Frank’s many specialists that what we used to call doctor’s appointments were now listed as “encounters.” What the? “Why do they have to call it that?” Mom said. “I feel like I should go prepared to do battle.” With that, she adopted a kung-fu-type pose and bared her teeth. “It sounds French,” she added.

It’s Middle English, actually, according our friend Webster, and it’s got a host of 18th Century dandy, nonmedical, definitions:

  • to meet as an adversary or enemy
  • to engage in conflict with
  • to come upon face to face
  • to come upon, especially unexpectedly
  • to meet, especially by chance

and from the 14th century:

  • a meeting especially between hostile factions or persons
  • a sudden often violent clash: combat
  • a chance meeting
  • a direct often momentary meeting
  • a coming into the vicinity of a celestial body

Oh, this is rich stuff. An encounter with a physician is by chance or unexpected only if it’s in the produce section of the grocery store, at a charity fund-raiser or in the emergency room.  It’s momentary depending upon how long you had to sit in the waiting room.  That hostile/enemy/adversary/conflict stuff might apply if you are “fighting” cancer or some other ugly condition. But your doctor is supposed to be on your side and s/he wants to see you at an appointed time.

What’s wrong with “appointment?” The third definition in Webster , after the political ones, is “an arrangement for a meeting.” Simple. Straightforward. And, now that I look at the letter from Mom’s cardiologist again, what does it say at the very top, centered on the page, above the letterhead? “Appt Note.” Hmm.

Just to be sure, I blew the dust off my French and English dictionary. “Encounter” translates to “rencontre,” defined as meeting, encounter, clash, or collision. Like Mom said.

I’m inclined to suspect a software engineer who thought “encounter” sounded less threatening or more exotic than “appointment” and physicians all over Creation have accepted it as part of their record-keeping software and probably haven’t given it a second thought. Patients do actually read billing statements and Appt Notes, and those of us who try to express ourselves by choosing the right words have one to recommend.