I'm a 64-year-old man — a longtime adult, a father of three grown children, comfortable in most settings. Yet when I talk to my doctor, who is friendly, warm and reasonably chatty, I squirm uncomfortably and worry like a kid about what I should call him.
I've known him for 20 years, but when he walks into the room I don't know whether to address him as "Dr. Stone" or call him by his first name. We know people in common. We're about the same age. We often discuss things that are not health-related.
But I stammer and stutter over calling him by his name.
