MerrinDonahue.com

Let’s face it: There are TONS of obstacles that Adoptive Parents have to negotiate that are beyond foreign to biological parents. The paperwork alone is enough to make a grown woman cry. Over the last five years, I’ve definitely had my share of moments where I wanted nothing more than to pull my hair out because of some stupid form, or the wait, or new regulations, or….well, the list goes on. Every once in a while, however, something happens that is so ridiculously absurd that you just have to laugh.

As part of our homestudy update, Kevin and I both have to obtain new statements of good health from our doctor. This really isn’t a big deal, especially because, this time around, it only has to go to our social worker (instead of being sent to China). We did have to have some routine blood work done, though, including the standard HIV test. In an effort to be thorough, the doctor ordered some additional tests.

This is also the perfect time to remind you, dear reader, that we live in a VERY small town. Our doctor’s office is located right at the front of our neighborhood, so pretty much everybody that lives in North Hampton goes there, too. Kevin had already reminded me that almost everyone who works where he does uses this particular doctor, so, like everything else, I needed to be on my best behavior with everyone there (hello? I don’t even get the mail unless my hair and makeup are done, and that’s only at the end of the driveway). News travels fast around here, and that news could be something as trivial as seeing somebody’s wife at the grocery store with curlers still in her hair. Yes, I’m serious.

There was a HUGE wait yesterday at the lab, and I was at the end of the line. There was only one person behind me. They call patients back in groups of two, so she and I walked back together. The phlebotomist told the other lady to have a seat, and then she began to get to work on me. She was reviewing the doctor’s orders, and then she proceeded to say:

“OK. You’re here for HIV, syphilis, Hepatitis, and a full STD panel, right?”

It was at this point that I became acutely aware of the other patient in the room. She had been fairly unobtrusive before, but she didn’t quite manage to stifle her gasp. I could feel her eyes boring into me, and it dawned on me that she was clearly thinking that “Escort” was definitely listed on my resume.

I tried to think quickly. I started to explain to the phlebotomist that “It’s for adoption”, but as soon as I started talking she said:

“Did they explain to you that you have to come back in to get your HIV results? We can’t give them out over the phone”.

Now here’s the part that gets a little cringe-worthy. I’m sure we’ve all had moments where you wish you could reach out and physically take back the words that just came out of our mouths. This was one of those moments. I said:

“Oh, I know. I’ve done this a few times. I’m a pro.”

Yikes. I actually heard the other woman’s jaw hit the floor. Good job, Merrin. You just confirmed (in her mind, at least) that you are, in fact, a HOOKER.

A couple of minutes later, she was all done; my blood was in neatly labeled vials ready to head to the lab. I got up to leave, and I made the BAD mistake of looking at the other patient. There was a look of horror mixed with pity on her face as she quickly averted her eyes. I couldn’t help it; I started to laugh. Uncontrollably. Somehow, I managed to choke out “Have a nice day!”, and I fled the doctor’s office with tears of laughter streaming down my face.

It’s only a matter of time until I run into her, either while I’m out walking the dog, or at the grocery store. I can only imagine how quickly this “news” is going to spread, and I suppose it’ll go a little something like this:

“Lock up your husbands, ladies; there’s a brand new bunny on the block.”