Russian Medical

Ok....sorry......like I said, keeping the blog up to date is a challenge. I'm so enjoying having my baby girl home and busy taking care of her and making memories....

Anyway, another point of interest of those adopting from Russia is the medical appointment in country. So, parents have to bring their own medical report, lab work, chest Xrays, drug screens, test results for TB, AIDS, Hep A, B, & C, psych reports, checks on blood, urine, etc, etc. How do we get those? We go to our doctor and pay for all the testing, appointments, etc. So we bring those results. Also have to bring a letter from our doctor on Drs stationary saying we're physically fit to adopt a child. Oh, also a photocopy of docs medical license. And don't forget to get them notarized and apostiled!!

So you do all that, then fly to Russia to meet with the Russian Physicians where they review your data and give you an exam. Your agency tells you that they will most likely not take blood as you are bringing your own test results. But they say, don't worry if they do want to take blood the needles will be sterile....uh....why does this need to be said? Are there dirty needles? What the heck? Ok, let's hope they don't take blood. We are also told that there will be a panel of doctors in the room and we'll be nude from the waist up, so be prepared for that. Fun!!

Parents get so worked up worrying about the medical.....but I followed my instructions to the T. So, I wasn't worried about it much at all.

So one morning during my second trip, I was picked up by my driver and translator and we go to the hospital for the Russian Medical. We drive up to this hospital and I start feeling uneasy. Below is a picture of the hospital where the exam was held.

It looked old, dirty and spooky. We saw patients coming in and out and it was a sad, miserable place. This particular hospital was a prosthetic hospital. So, it wasn't a typical hospital as we would think of in the US. Anyway, you enter the building and there is a gate and guards in uniform......eventually you realize that there are gates and guards in uniforms everywhere. So, we go up to the 4th floor and wait for the docs.

I've heard there are usually 12 to 15 other families waiting with you for their medicals. But on my visit there was only one other family....The Dunns....who became fast friends.

So, we're waiting and the docs finally come and get set up. I go first.

I walk into the room and there are 5 female physicians all sitting behind and around a small desk with their clipboards out and ready.....I felt like I was auditioning for Hospital Idol or something. Strange and comical (but I kept my giggles to myself cause they were very serious). So one doc asks me how old I was when I had my first drink....um....16 or 17.....thinking to myself....should I explain that it was just a sip and due to peer pressure? That I'm not an alcoholic. But there were no other questions about that. Next Question. Are there any crazy people in my family....uh, yeah....I live in the American South....there are definately crazy nuts in my family. I try to make a joke about it.....they aren't laughing......No. No history of mental illness. YET...cause yall are about to drive me crazy!!

So, that's all for the questions....disrobe please.....No offense to the Russians, but the medical exam was a joke. They tested my reflexes, felt my spine and listened to my heart and lungs. That's it for the exam. Did I really have to take my bra off for that? Err. What are you looking for exactly? A third one?

So, the most stressful part of the medical was the stress of the doctors. Russians should ALL be actors because EVERYTHING is so dramatic. One of my documents wasn't worded to their satisfaction. So there is this BIG to do about it. Other people are called in. They are freaking out....their heads go down into their hands, they look at me spouting off something in Russian, my translator asks me some questions, they stare at me as if I can magically make the document say what they want it to say. And it was something so unimportant. They send me back to the holding room while they discuss. Next couple goes in. They freak out with them too. Over something silly I'm sure.

An hour or so later, the docs have left, we plop down our hundreds of dollars....for THAT. Grrr. And get the certificate and documents we need. Hmmm...they must have found what they needed or done what they needed or decided it wasn't important.

Later, we come to find out that the doctors are under alot of pressure. They are covering their butts. Why? Because of the recent death of a Russian boy that was adopted into an American family. You may recall poor Dimitry Yakolev (Chase Harrison) whos new American dad left him in a car all day on a hot summer day in Virginia. Dimitry died of heat stroke. He had been home just a few months. He was the same age as Sophie. I think of that little boy everytime I take Sophie out of the car seat. Well, an American court found Mr. Harrison, with the help of a very expensive, high profile lawyer, not guilty of manslaughter. I know Mr. Harrison is living in his own prison, but he WAS responsible for the child's death. But the court felt there was no punishment worse than his own grief. Many people feel differently about the outcome of the court decision. But, I can tell you how the Russian government feels about it. They are angry as hell at the Americans because this man was found not guilty. They want someone to pay, so the doctors that did the Russian medical on that family are under attack. So, I see why the doctors are stressed out. They are afraid of losing their jobs.....especially at this time when the Russian unemployment rate is so high.

So that was my experience with the Russian medical. I just suggest that you do everything your agency tells you to do and try not to freak out. I knew that I was going to walk out of that hospital with the documents I needed. I understand changes have been made in this process and that the medical is much harder and they are demanding even more documents. I can't imagine what else they want.