An unbelievable
turn of events, and some talk about urine
--It would be premature to be making any grand announcements at
this point, but yesterday was an interesting day for your corpulent
correspondent.
I was sitting here tapping out another ridiculous update, like most
days, when the phone starting ringing.These were job search calls, coming from two
unrelated sources.Two!After all this time, and considering the amount of frustration
and grrrrrr
I’d endured, it was an unbelievable turn of events.
And my “normal” day promptly came off the tracks like the Richard
Kimball Death Row Express.
Yes, it was good stuff, but nothing’s definite yet.Because of the nature of the job I might
be starting soon, there are an inordinate number of contingencies to
be dealt with.I’m not
sure, but I think they’re going to go back and talk to the doctor
who delivered me, track down my high school teachers, and attempt to
interview my grandparents through a séance.
But if it all checks out -- and there shouldn’t be a problem, unless
they’re able to locate Mrs. Wagner -- it looks like I’ll be
returning to work in the near future.I never could’ve predicted such a thing, but I’m excited
about it.I didn’t want
to admit it, but I was becoming a bit concerned.
More details to follow, once everything’s finalized…
--Yesterday afternoon I
had to drive down to Wilkes-Barre,
pee in a cup, and hand it to a woman wearing purple scrubs.Apparently they’re going to use my squeezins
to determine if I’m a heroin addict, or whatever.
I don’t go to the doctor very often, and don’t have much
experience with mandated urination, peeing on cue, or anything of the
sort.I’m not familiar
with urinalysis etiquette, or the expectations of professional
pee-processors.So I
listened to the directions intently.
The woman told me to remove my jacket and baseball cap, go into the
bathroom and fill the container to a line etched in the side.DO NOT flush the toilet, she said, and DO NOT wash your hands.
I’m glad she told me about the line on the side, because I probably
would’ve filled it all the way to the top, complete with a big
frothy head.And I know
why she had me leave my jacket and cap behind, but what’s the deal
with not flushing or washing my hands?!I usually don’t anyway, but what the hell?
I went in there and wasn’t sure about the logistics of it all.Because I’m experienced in the art of urination, I knew I’d
be producing much more than the requested amount.Should I do the capturing first, or at the end?I decided on the former, because it would be too risky to wait.What if I miscalculated, and ran
out?
So, while I was fumbling around and following instructions and
whatnot, an idea popped into my head.Wonder what the woman would do, I thought, if someone opened
the door and handed her a cup filled with crap?I pictured it happening, and the person saying, “Oh, I’m
sorry. Did I misunderstand?”
I started laughing as this scene played out in my imagination.I even saw it with one of those Dairy Queen swirls on top, and
I can only guess what the Purple Nurse was thinking on the other
side of the door.She
probably doesn’t get too many laughing urinators.Ya know?
Once I finished with the task at hand, so to speak, I went outside and
sheepishly handed over my “sample.”It made me feel a little ill at ease, if you want to know the
truth.But it was
apparently just business as usual for the nurse.She snatched it away and started pouring it in test tubes,
dropping stuff in there, attaching stickers, etc., like she didn’t
have a care in the world.
And as she juggled my pee, I realized we were surrounded by
secretaries, and data entry clerks…It was surreal, standing there in the middle of a business
office with pouring urine, and I was thankful when she said I was free
to go.
--As I drove home, I
remembered a story some guy in Atlantaonce told me.He said he
developed a case of hemorrhoids, and his family doctor sent him to a
specialist.
While in the waiting room, he said, the receptionist continuously
answered the phone:Rectal
and anal! Rrrrectal and anal!!
They reportedly gave the poor bastard an enema, told him to hold it as
long as possible, and after the levee broke a doctor came running into
the bathroom with a mirror on a long stick, and “had a look.”
Man, even after the Alzheimer’s causes me to forget my own name,
I’ll remember that story…It’s
burned in there, permanently.
-- I have all sorts of
things I’d planned to write about today, but I’m starving and
craving an open-face roast beef sandwich.So, the rest will have to wait.
...Beef gravy will not be denied.
I’ll leave you now with a semi-related Question:What’s your most embarrassing medical story?Or, if you prefer, stories others have told you...Use the comments link below.
And, I’ve got a bonus unrelated Question, as well:What do you think of this?Would you ever consider purchasing such an item, if the price
were fair?Let me know
your thoughts.
