Jew Gotta Be Kidding Me! or What’s In a Name?

Before our lovely doctor left town, she gave us the lab form our donor will need to get all his tests. That lab order now has the wrong name on it and is missing a crucial blood test.

How did this happen? It’s the kids these days.

That’s my theory, anyway. I think that E2 didn’t realize that we might want to know his real last name (rather than his “punk” name) before paying to have a new contract drawn up. He also didn’t realize that a donor should disclose whether he’s a freakin’ Ashkenazi Jew or not. Thankfully, when I heard his actual name, I put Jew and nose together and got… Tay-sachs! His is such a post sexuality, post gender, post religion, (post critical thinking?) generation.

I shouldn’t rag on E2 too much (“rag” just gave away my generation, huh?). We picked him for reasons that still exist. I know I’m just wigging (that’s right) because of the known/stranger donor thing. There’s so much trust involved in using the fluids of a stranger, and I’m just feeling a tad untrusting when these “little” things pop up.

Of course, with all the worrying I do, I realize I wouldn’t have to divulge my religious heritage either.

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