Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Records, Or It Didn't Happen

Genius seems to be having trouble proving that he was born!

I can verify that he was. I was there, you know, for 14.5 hours, my wits not compromised with any medication, save half a shot of something from a full syringe that the doctor left with the labor nurse when he went to catch a nap. We were too late for an epidural, because Farmer H said he needed to take a shower and pack a bag before driving me to the hospital.

You might recall that I sent Genius two official copies of his birth certificate, freshly purchased (and not reimbursed by richy rich Genius) for $15 each at the county health center a couple weeks ago. Genius needed one for his passport, but upon closer reading, discovered that he needed TWO, and that if he lived in a state that said not to copy them, he would need two official copies. Of course Missouri is a state that prints DO NOT COPY on their official birth certificates.

It was no big deal, because Genius had two right there. But he wants one to have on hand in his records in case he needs it. Again, he volunteered to pay, since I put in his weekly letter that I am ON A FIXED INCOME now. He's supposed to get back to me if the passport people kept both of his official certificates, so I can fork over another $15 for one to send him. He just took care of all that business on Friday, and I haven't heard back about it.

I DID, however, hear from Genius. On Monday evening, in the casino. People NEVER communicate with me, you know, while I'm sitting hour after hour, day after day, in my dark basement lair. No siree, Bob! They don't want to hear from me unless I'm out doing something, or driving, or on the phone with someone else.

Genius wanted to know if I had his shot record.

"Is it safe to assume you have my vaccination card/record thing?"

"Maybe. But I think the county health center can issue another one?"

"Okay. I want to get a copy of it."

"I'll check when I get home."

Two hours later: "I'm on the road home with Sis and the Ex-Mayor and Dad. We went to the casino. They won. We lost. Probably won't look for your shot record until tomorrow. If I don't find it, I'll go by county health center. It will only show your childhood shots. Not the two you got at CeilingReds before you went to college. When we forgot that you'd already had one."

"Do you remember what I got before college? I'm assuming MMR. What else?"

"Meningitis? The HIB?"


"Look up HIB. I'm in the middle of nowhere, typing with one finger."

"Okay. I'm looking for this because I'm setting up my PCP here and they asked for it."

Huh. I don't know what a PCP is. Last I heard, it was a drug that makes you jump out of a building, like a horse tranquilizer or something. I'm guessing it's some medical file now, though.

I found Genius's original little cardboard folded-up shot record from when he was a baby, with all pertinent vaccinations recorded by hand. Even the meningitis shot (one of them) before college. And also a printout from the county health center, because apparently I was lax in keeping track of that little record before.

So now, I think Genius should be able to prove that he was born, and how many times he was shot.


River said...

Born and shot. What a life :)
I kept records too and still have them somewhere in a gold coloured box that used to hold pretty writing paper with matching envelopes.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Mine are laying on top of a metal file cabinet in my hoardery dark basement lair. Nothing pretty about that now, or in the past.

River said...

Mine are in a suitcase, inside a larger suitcase, way up in the top section of the wardrobe that can't be reached by me without a ladder. I think. I hope.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Maybe you could get some Russian nesting dolls to put those records in, and then put them inside the suitcase inside the suitcase inside the wardrobe!