Tuesday, August 28, 2012

One girl two cups

Last week I had to make my yearly appearance at the lady doctor and ... I'll wait for you all to stop squirming uncomfortably ... ready? ... as every lady knows, the first thing the lady doctor office usually makes you do when you check in to your appointment is to step into the little bathroom they have so you can pee in a cup. Over the course of my lifetime I've peed into hundreds of cups. Drug tests, doctors visits, that one time we got stuck in traffic on the way into the music festival. Peeing in cups is old hat for a girl of my class and panache.

I had been sipping from a water bottle during my entire drive to the office, so I felt adequately prepared for this least invasive aspect of every awkward doctor's visit ever. I smiled as the receptionist handed me a cup and quickly ducked into the single bathroom. Single because there's only room for one occupent, and also because it's the only bathroom for the entire waiting room of pregnant women to use. Now I've never been pregnant, but if every pregnant woman stereotype is correct, pregnant ladies love to eat weird things and pee, like, all the time.

But like I said, I was ready. This would be quick. I read the instructions printed on the wall about how to properly pee in said cup without peeing all over yourself in the process, which I did anyway. I hastily placed the cup on the table and pushed the faucet on with my elbow. Once I had satisfactorily washed my hands, I turned back to my cup 'o pee and noticed that in my haste to clean myself up, I hadn't properly put the lid on. So I gingerly picked up the now filled-to-the-brim cup in an attempt to snap the lid on tightly. But it wouldn't snap. So I twisted and I turned and I pushed all the while trying to keep the cup perfectly balanced. And then I dropped that cup of pee and watched as it exploded all over the bathroom floor.

And for a few brief moments alone inside that bathroom, this was exactly my life:

Only instead of the F-dash-dash-dash word, I was more like OH MOTHERF--CKING C--- BITCH ASS F-CK THE HELL DO I F--CKING PISS ASS FLOOR F-CKKKKKKKKK.

I scrambled for paper towels to soak up my pee that was now in a puddles across the floor, behind the toilet, and pooling in front of the sink. I frantically shoved the sopping towels into the bottom of the tiny little trashcan as I grabbed for more and more and more. Oh my god my pee is everywhere. What kind of a goddamned jackass spills her pee all over the goddamned doctor's office holy shit holy shit holy shit.

When I finally had thrown the last of the paper towels into the trash and surveyed the bathroom for any loose splatters, it occurred to me that now I had three things: 1) an empty cup of pee 2) an empty bladder and 3) 45% less dignity than when I walked in. MOTHERF--CKING C--- BITCH ASS F-CK THE HELL DO I F--CKING PISS ASS FLOOR F-CKKKKKKKKK.

I looked at my watch. I had been in the bathroom for close to 10 minutes at this point. Okay okay okay I just need to pee again. But I couldn't. If you had stood in front of me and pointed a gun at my head and told me to pee I still would have come up dry, which is saying a lot for someone who routinely almost pees her pants. All of my pee was now at the bottom of that bathroom's trash can. After what felt like another 10 minutes, I finally was able to fill about 1/6 of the way to the line that they instruct you to fill. That'll have to do, I thought as I snapped the lid on -- carefully -- and thrust my now wholly inadequate cup of pee into the little cabinet on the wall to collect your pee cups.

I threw open the bathroom door, panting, a little bit of panic sweat still dripping down my neck, and came face to face with a line of fat, impatient looking pregnant women waiting to use the bathroom. I smiled meekly at them as I hurried past, wondering if any of them had any idea of what had just happened behind that closed door. Because god forbid any of those strangers know what I just did. Not until I blogged it to hundreds of strangers on the Internet anyway. Because, people, when shit gets weird at the gyno's and you haven't even seen the doctor yet, then you better buckle up for some grade A awkwardness headed your way. Title of my book?


Becky Mochaface said...

I have never been more grateful that my gyno does not require lids on pee cups.

Jodee Rose said...

Augh, I wouldn't have made it out of there without crying! But it made a great story.

I had a urologist's office send me in to get a clean catch but they didn't give me anything to DO IT WITH, and after checking every cabinet in the bathroom, I just figured that they were getting what they got, I wasn't going out to ask.

Anonymous said...

That's hilarious! Sounds exactly like something I would do. Except I probably would have given up and told them they weren't getting a pee test today.

What is it about having to pee all the time? You know, it gets worse as you get older, and I've never even had kids.

Lora said...

the worst thing about going to the ladydoc when pregnant is the peeing in a cup. not only do you have to pee all the time anyway, but now you are fully loaded and ready to pee and waiting in line and your pee hole is all big and wonky and derpy and different than it usually is and if you are a giant pregnant person you can't really reach around and you never know what direction your pee is going to come out and it ends up on the floor or your hands or the outside of the cup and it's just hell.

so, eff those b's. they can wait. and they will probably get their pee on on the floor too.


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