This story has been rattling around in my brain since my trip to the doctor this week. I debated whether to put in on paper, then possibly publishing it here at Globasylum. I could hear my daughters sceaming, “M-A-A-H-M-M ! ! N-O-O-O ! ! N-O-O-O-O ! !
Remember in my profile I said that sometimes I embarrass my children, well, this will be one of those times.
I considered writing it in Third Person about my friend.
"I have this friend who I took to the doctor the other day. She. . . "
But you people are too smart to fall for that one.
Then, I read Ree’s post about her peeing in her bed, the neighbor's bed, on their couches. . . and this post pales in comparison.
So, girls, you may want to stop reading here. Be thankful, at least I didn't post a picture with this story. It could be worse.
Going to the doctor is not on my top ten list of favorite things to do. Giving a urine sample is not on any of my lists. Calling the triage nurse and discussing my symptoms ranks up there in between the two aforementioned items.
"I know what is wrong. It happened about 4 years ago. It is on my chart. Can’t you just call in a prescription?"
O-h-h-h-h ! No-o-o-o-o!
My appointment is scheduled for F.I.V.E.H.O.U.R.S later.
I’m not in a lot of pain, but now I’m worried.
Worried that I won’t be able to produce that needed bit of liquid that’s always required. I never can. Not even if I avoided the bathroom for days, if I have to produce, I can’t.
Running water. Running water over my hand. Running water over my head. Running water over my body. Nothing for the little plastic cup.
Dipping my body into a vat of warm water. That might work.
So, since I have F.I.V.E.H.O.U.R.S. to wait I decide to be prepared. "Always be Prepared."I was never a Girl Scout or a Boy Scout, but I like that motto. And then there's Napoleon's motto, "If you're not prepared, at least look that way." Was that Napoleon who said that?
OK, back to the dilemma. What to put it in? Empty water bottle. Yes ! They are everywhere because I buy water by the case.
Done. No more worries. I am prepared.
I always keep water in my vehicle. Water bottles everywhere. Some empty. Some full. Some half-full. Some half-empty. (Yes, I’m both)
In the car, I carefully set my precious bottle in the little round hole provided for just such a thing, sitting just next to the bottle of water in the other little round hole.
NOTE TO SELF: Do NOT even think about drinking water on the way to the doctor’s office.
Entering the doctor's office I have my purse, my keys that I’m trying to get into my purse, my insurance information that I’m trying to get out of my purse, and my bottle.
The lady sitting behind the check-in counter smiles and asks for my name, doctor’s name, insurance, and I’m just trying to figure out where to set my bottle. Certainly, not on her counter. So, I carefully place it on the floor between my feet. Did I mention, I don’t buy small bottles of water? It’s one of those big a_ _ - honking ones.
Checked in and seated, I sit as far away from the elevator as possible. I certainly don’t want to have to carry on a conversation with someone with this rather large bottle of not-so-clear liquid in it cradled between my feet.
Magazine in hand but not reading, I’m watching for anyone who might recognize me and just hoping for the nurse to hurry and call my name. Elevator doors open and I recognize the gray-haired gentleman stepping out. I bury my face in the magazine but keep an eye on him. He checks in. This is a very large waiting room with about 65 chairs. I’m sitting inconspicuously in a far corner of this very large room. Then I hear “Kathryn”…that’s not my name, but that’s what he calls me.
It’s just a water bottle. Everyone carries them everywhere. He doesn’t have a clue what’s in my very large bottle.
Before he makes it across the room to where I am, the nurse calls my name. I am sprinting through the doors where I find her standing at the scales. Why do I have to be weighed in? My problem has nothing to do with my weight. OK?
I set my bottle down and much to my chagrin, learn I did gain 3 pounds last weekend.
The nurse notices my bottle and asked if I brought my sample with me.
“Yes ! I proclaim,” proudly.
“Has it been in the refrigerator?”
“What?”
“Has it been in the refrigerator?”
“What refrigerator?”
“This has to be kept cold.”
“You want it chilled?”
“This has to be kept cold in order for us to get the correct results.”
Someone better start filling a vat of warm water.
Remember in my profile I said that sometimes I embarrass my children, well, this will be one of those times.
I considered writing it in Third Person about my friend.
"I have this friend who I took to the doctor the other day. She. . . "
But you people are too smart to fall for that one.
Then, I read Ree’s post about her peeing in her bed, the neighbor's bed, on their couches. . . and this post pales in comparison.
So, girls, you may want to stop reading here. Be thankful, at least I didn't post a picture with this story. It could be worse.
Going to the doctor is not on my top ten list of favorite things to do. Giving a urine sample is not on any of my lists. Calling the triage nurse and discussing my symptoms ranks up there in between the two aforementioned items.
"I know what is wrong. It happened about 4 years ago. It is on my chart. Can’t you just call in a prescription?"
O-h-h-h-h ! No-o-o-o-o!
My appointment is scheduled for F.I.V.E.H.O.U.R.S later.
I’m not in a lot of pain, but now I’m worried.
Worried that I won’t be able to produce that needed bit of liquid that’s always required. I never can. Not even if I avoided the bathroom for days, if I have to produce, I can’t.
Running water. Running water over my hand. Running water over my head. Running water over my body. Nothing for the little plastic cup.
Dipping my body into a vat of warm water. That might work.
So, since I have F.I.V.E.H.O.U.R.S. to wait I decide to be prepared. "Always be Prepared."I was never a Girl Scout or a Boy Scout, but I like that motto. And then there's Napoleon's motto, "If you're not prepared, at least look that way." Was that Napoleon who said that?
OK, back to the dilemma. What to put it in? Empty water bottle. Yes ! They are everywhere because I buy water by the case.
Done. No more worries. I am prepared.
I always keep water in my vehicle. Water bottles everywhere. Some empty. Some full. Some half-full. Some half-empty. (Yes, I’m both)
In the car, I carefully set my precious bottle in the little round hole provided for just such a thing, sitting just next to the bottle of water in the other little round hole.
NOTE TO SELF: Do NOT even think about drinking water on the way to the doctor’s office.
Entering the doctor's office I have my purse, my keys that I’m trying to get into my purse, my insurance information that I’m trying to get out of my purse, and my bottle.
The lady sitting behind the check-in counter smiles and asks for my name, doctor’s name, insurance, and I’m just trying to figure out where to set my bottle. Certainly, not on her counter. So, I carefully place it on the floor between my feet. Did I mention, I don’t buy small bottles of water? It’s one of those big a_ _ - honking ones.
Checked in and seated, I sit as far away from the elevator as possible. I certainly don’t want to have to carry on a conversation with someone with this rather large bottle of not-so-clear liquid in it cradled between my feet.
Magazine in hand but not reading, I’m watching for anyone who might recognize me and just hoping for the nurse to hurry and call my name. Elevator doors open and I recognize the gray-haired gentleman stepping out. I bury my face in the magazine but keep an eye on him. He checks in. This is a very large waiting room with about 65 chairs. I’m sitting inconspicuously in a far corner of this very large room. Then I hear “Kathryn”…that’s not my name, but that’s what he calls me.
It’s just a water bottle. Everyone carries them everywhere. He doesn’t have a clue what’s in my very large bottle.
Before he makes it across the room to where I am, the nurse calls my name. I am sprinting through the doors where I find her standing at the scales. Why do I have to be weighed in? My problem has nothing to do with my weight. OK?
I set my bottle down and much to my chagrin, learn I did gain 3 pounds last weekend.
The nurse notices my bottle and asked if I brought my sample with me.
“Yes ! I proclaim,” proudly.
“Has it been in the refrigerator?”
“What?”
“Has it been in the refrigerator?”
“What refrigerator?”
“This has to be kept cold.”
“You want it chilled?”
“This has to be kept cold in order for us to get the correct results.”
Someone better start filling a vat of warm water.
.jpg)
