Let's Talk Urine Samples

I'm a grown woman. I've developed a sense of balance and physical control over my body. I'm not obese (though I do currently resemble a beached whale), and I think I'm doing pretty well. That said, I'm also almost 35 weeks pregnant.

For those of you who have never been pregnant, allow me to fill you in on something. Every single time you go to the doctor, you will have to present the nurse with a urine sample. Those of you who are men and have your own hoses which you can direct any way you want won't see any big reason for concern here. But, we ladies know there is a HUGE concern with this.

Picture it: A woman the size of a small country walks into the dr.'s office. She's already very aware of her size before she's asked to step up on the scale and assess this week's damage. In her mind she's cursing the Hershey company up and down. It is, after all, their fault she ate all that chocolate this week. Once her weight has been announced loud enough for even the Deaf kid she's got with her to hear (yeah, I can say that. I really do have a Deaf kid. Dang, he's cute, though), she swallows her pride and just avoids looking the nurse in the eye. She figures all the damage is done, and is just glad to be over the horrible part. That's when it happens. This poor, sweet, very pregnant woman is handed a cup. I'm not even sure you can call it a cup. It's really more like a measuring spoon. Good grief! There are scientists with the world's strongest microscopes that couldn't see that thing it's so small. Is she being offered a refreshing glass of water to wash down the humiliation of having stood on that scale? No, that would be too kind. Instead, she's being told to take that teeny tiny teacup-lookin' thing and pee in it.

Okay, so she takes a deep breath. How bad can this be? Well, bad. She's also got her kids with her who feel the need to see and touch EVERYTHING that's happening in the restroom. Humiliated, she takes the cup and heads in. She drops her pants and sits down on the cold, already alarmingly wet seat. That's when it happens. She realizes she's too round around the waist to even see her woo hoo, let alone place a cup in just the right place to catch any of her urine. She does her best, but apparently that's not good enough. By the time she's done, there are three drops of pee that happened to bounce into the cup when it was rebounding off her hand.

She's now soaked up to what feels like her neck in pee. In reality, it probably stops closer to her shoulders than her neck, but who's really judging here, right? She has to figure out how to dry the outside of the urine collection cup, clean off her hands, and still not get pee all down her legs when she stands up to do the desired task. In desperation, she uses some toilet paper to dry off the cup, then goes about taking care of herself. As hard as she tries, her leg is still nauseatingly wet. She makes sure she spends an abundant amount of time lathering up with that anti-bacterial soap that smells like a nursing home. Because she felt like she'd gotten pee up to her neck, she decides to just go ahead and wash her hair while she's in there. No sense taking chances, right?

Finally, feeling like a complete loser in whale's clothing, she waddles out to the nurse's station for her blood pressure and to be sent to a room where more humiliating exams will take place.

So, why do I tell this story? Because, ladies and gentlemen, this has been my experience for the last several visits to the doctor. Yesterday, though, I made history. Yesterday, I provided a urine sample in which the entire outside of the cup remained dry as did my arm and leg. Yesterday, my friends, was a red letter day...unless you count what the scale told me.