"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in."

-- Robert Frost

Monday, July 2, 2012

stick a fork in me, I'm done

Caution:  Mild pregnant potty humor to follow.

I dutifully followed the nurse with the chart down the hall, trailed by my husband engrossed in his own thoughts having come straight from work.

"Let's get your weight and then ... this bathroom is closed so you'll have to used the lab bathroom for your urine sample," she said.

"Oh, I feel special today!" I bantered at her smile and turned, leaving him checking iPhone emails on the bench in the hall.

The lab bathroom -- 15 feet x 3 feet, if only in my own mind, contained deposit cabinet and small table way up by the door, a small sink with no ledge, toilet at the rear with tank back overloaded holding enough Dixie cups to sample an army.

My sample wasn't much more than the juice of a single squeezed lemon as I looked around for a spot to place it while straightening myself.  Left with no options within reach, I set it on the floor and concluded my business with a wash of my hands.

I turned carefully in the narrow quarters with tissue in hand and bent to retrieve my precious specimen.

My balance toppled.

My foot slipped.

My dixie cup and contents sailed in perfect punt, slamming against the door.

I stood stunned for a full thirty seconds as the door, walls, baseboards and floor dripped.  How could so little possibly cause such damage so quickly??

What to do?  What to do.

I dabbed and wiped in a painfully crouched position and then began a thorough search for any sort of cleaner concealed in that little cabinet.  Only a nearly empty can of Lysol disinfectant presented itself.

On bended knee, I cleaned every inch of drenched bathroom because not much bathroom had been left undrenched.

Hands once again freshly washed, I emerged from the bathroom just as the nurse was opening the sample cabinet to find it empty ... and surprising her as she'd thought me long vacated.  She turned with a puzzled look.  My husband lifted his head from his phone checking exclaiming, "Wow!  What took you so long??"

"Funny story," says I, as both stood frozen and quizzical. See, the bad news is ... I had a sample but I punt-kicked it all across your bathroom.  The good news is ... you now have a clean bathroom!"

By now, there was sympathetic laughter all around a very attentive lab. "Um, you'll have to catch me next time, I think." I apologized with a shrug before heading toward my designated exam room.

Though I could do nothing but laugh at myself later, I couldn't help but think ... How done am I?  Very done, I think.  So done in fact, that this morning I had surgical sutures removed and am hopefully awaiting the pick up in these currently rippling contractions.  The end result ... only time will tell.

But in the meantime —

Despite my current feeling of being "done", there have been lots of times where I — like most moms  — have felt "done" in general.  My bloggy friend April has written a beautiful article about that very feeling.

One that bares reading time and again, just to put the wind back in the sails.

Or at least for when you kick your own urine sample full force across the bathroom.

1 comment: