so, the scan was clear, as it should be.
actually, it wasn’t that clear.
there were two “hot spots”
where leanne’s clean breasts
we finished with our home study the other day.
she asked us in separate interviews about mental illness,
therapy we’ve received, drug use.
let me just say that my interview took about twice as long as leanne’s.
though i did bust her. she had put down that she had never done any illegal drugs.
i also had to answer what i knew about her.
i put down that she smoked pot a couple times.
well….maybe “smoked” carries too much intent.
maybe “mouthed a joint” would be more honest,
or just “had relations with pot”.
but anyway, that’s all over.
and she told us to call the social worker who matches
adoptive parents up with birth mothers,
and so leanne called her, told her a little bit about us.
wait, the social worker said, you don’t want a white baby?
no, said leanne (not that we wouldn’t want one, but that we didn’t require one).
you’ll be hearing from me very soon, she said.
seems like nobody wants a non-white baby these days.
but it means we may be matched within a month.
within a week or two.
i guess we’ll have to start thinking of names now.
i guess i’ll actually have to get that dormer upstairs
ready for the baby, the dormer that we lit that candle in,
the dormer that we had designed with little cubbyholes
for diapers, for wipes, for cream.
when we went to see the oncologist today
he asked leanne how she was feeling.
nervous, she said. mostly because he took 45 minutes
to see us and it usually doesn’t take that long,
so, of course, the mind wanders.
and then she said:
my breasts are hot….
on the petscan. on the petscan my breasts are hot.
active…metabolically active…my chest. because, you know…
our doctor just blushed into the computer screen.