It’s confession time!
This happened a while ago, but it still makes me cry, laugh, shudder, cringe, gag—insert any other bodily function that indicates extreme emotional discomfort—when I think of it.
During just another normal day of work at the pediatrician's office, I was getting ready to call a patient back for a well visit. For this particular patient, I wasn't able to find an immunization record for the patient in the state website; however, I was able to find one for the patient with the same first name and birth date but with a different last name.
I called the patient and parent back and after having gotten the vitals, I hunched over next to the parent and softly (yes, I really did use my smallest inside voice) inquired whether the patient had ever had or was known by a different last name, explaining I was having trouble finding a complete immunization record.
The mom’s eyebrows shot up and she loudly exclaimed, “YES! HE DID HAVE A DIFFERENT LAST NAME BUT HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT!”
She was pissed.
And the kid, sitting on the exam table, overheard his mom and asked, “What, Mom?! I had a different last name?”
Yes, yes, people.
This kid was adopted, and his parents had never told him.
And for some strange reason, his vaccines were kept on records that used his pre-adoption name from when he was a baby. In the nine-plus years since the adoption, no one had ever changed the name on the records. I guess at the clinic they used to be at, everyone just knew he was adopted.
And I just happened to be the lucky nurse that got to be part of the joyous news—Surprise!
It was a proud day, let me tell you, a proud day.
Not.
That's hilarious! I had not heard about that. . . when did this happen?
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