Today is Tuesday and today it rained. My dad used to answer our pestering-kid questions wanting to know WHEN something was going to happen by telling us “a week from the next rainy Tuesday”. This answer always made me sigh and roll my eyes and stop asking, but it also made me promise myself that I would keep track of the days of the week and note when it rained and thus be way ahead of the game. Of course I never did, and if that Tuesday from the last rainy one ever did roll around I would have long forgotten what the question was anyway. Which was no doubt his intent.
So that’s what I was thinking about this morning when I got up early and went out in the rain and off to the lab for my 8:15 a.m. appointment with the doctors requisition slip for fasting blood work stuffed in my bag. I had eaten nothing since about 7:00 p.m. the day before. Unfortunately I had also had almost nothing to drink. Perhaps somewhere in the back of my little pea sized dehydrated brain I got the prep rules for this mixed up with those for surgery where you can’t even have water. And because it was earlier than I usually take my meds and I would probably be home in about twenty minutes, I did not take my diuretic. And I had no coffee. And the last thing I did before leaving the house was use the bathroom, because mom always made us do that when we were going somewhere, whether we needed to or not. Obviously my parents were both very influential people.
Can you see where this is going? I swear there were no check marks at all in the little urinalysis box on that paper, but after I happily gave up three vials of blood the nurse handed me the dreaded styrofoam cup with my name on it. Saying I didn’t think I’d be able to do it just got me that mom look. So I asked for some water and headed off to the bathroom.
I was in there for a good twenty minutes. I drank enough water to drown a horse, until it made me gag. Then I started to sweat because it was damned hot in that tiny room with my hoodie on, but why take it off when I’m going straight home, right? Who the hell ever thought peeing in a cup was a good idea? I couldn’t do it. I came out with the empty cup in my hand and told them I was going to sit in the waiting room for a bit. They said they were wondering what happened to my sample, and would I like some water? Double gag.
Alternately reading emails on my phone and watching the clock from 9:00 to 9:30 with still no urge whatsoever to urinate, I felt like a complete failure. Asked to do ONE SIMPLE THING and unable to get it done. Not knowing if giving up was an option. Would they let me come back later? Would I have to get another requisition? What would happen if I smashed the damned cup and told them all they were ridiculous? I was definitely not living in the moment, and fervently wishing to be somewhere else.
Finally after another fifteen or so minutes of extreme discomfort from all that water and embarrassment for being there so long and senseless frustration with myself I had some small degree of success. I wonder if that might have been the most minute urine sample ever submitted for testing, but opted not to stick around to find out.
I drove home in the pouring rain, took my medication, drank two cups of coffee and then headed off to the pharmacy to fill my prescriptions and do some shopping and pick up the mail and guess what? Could not wait to rush back into my house to use the bathroom.
The moral of this story is to always be prepared for whatever is happening being the opposite of what you thought you wanted to happen and have faith that everything will work out exactly right a week from the next rainy Tuesday. And this Tuesday, even though it is indeed a rainy one, doesn’t count because the rule is it has to be the NEXT one.
Glad I got that all sorted out. And you wonder why I don’t like to leave home.