You’re Not From Around Here
At age five, I became a proud United States citizen. This is around the time I was told I was adopted. I can’t say it shook the foundations of my world. The only issue we ran into was a period of time where I called my parents “Chuck” and “Sue”. I slightly recall them getting tired of it, and told me to knock it off. I did.
As I said, the news of my adoption didn’t change my outlook on life. It was understood I was abandoned, my parents adopted me… and that was that. I would be lying if I didn’t say I occasionally wondered about my birth parents. Oddly enough, I can even recall wondering if I had a twin. Bottom line… Me being adopted, never weighed on my mind. I didn’t have any abandonment issues. Why would I? I had a perfectly loving family and a great group of friends. I lived a happy middle class American life through the ’80s and ’90s.
The Hypochondriac in Me
First off, I am not a hypochondriac. However, I am the type of person, who if you told me “you have cancer and have 6 months to live”, I believe I’ll die in 1 month.
As I grew older, I started wondering about health risks. If I’m going to get cancer of the taint, I’d like to know it. So… my admittedly half-assed search started June 26, 2009.