January 15, 2009

A Motherly Request

Dear Doctor:

As a concerned patient in your incredibly busy practice, I imagine that this letter were be glanced over and promptly discarded in the biohazard container for disposal. I feel though that the absurd money that my insurance company doles out to you allows me to send this correspondence.

Let me preface this by saying your office is beautiful. One of the nicest doctor's offices I have ever set foot in. The furniture is beautifully upholstered, the granite counter tops at the reception area sparkle under the recessed canned lights and the fresh flowers are always a nice touch. I always feel as though my scuffed tennis shoes and over worn blue jeans are not up to par for a visit to your establishment.

The bathrooms though are really the piesta de resistance. The exquisite tiled floors, the hardwood cherry cabinets and changing table and the beautiful shiny fixtures! Oh, the fixtures! None so intriguing as the eye catching levered door handles in distressed rustic pewter. Any door hardware connoisseur would quickly appreciate the beauty in such a piece.

What a wonderful, comforting environment you create for your patients as you require them to provide specimens for you! What thoughtfulness!

Urine samples are not at the top of my list of fun things to do on a Thursday morning. Or any day of the week for that matter. I understand your need for a "clean" sample though so I comply with your request. I've worked quality control in the past -- contamination is a serious issue. So I dutifully prep everything the way it should be. I write my name on the specimen cup with the super fat sharpie marker, wash my hands, tear open the "prep" pad and unscrew the lid on the cup.

As I begin undoing my belt I warn the small one that she needs to stand nicely on the scale until mommy is done.

I steel myself for the coldness of alcohol wipes on my girl parts and the barrage of questions that are about to spill past the lips of a child. As I position the cup for collection and focus on my aim, out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of movement as she heads for the door.

That beautiful, shiny levered door with only a push button lock! Oh, God!

As sweetly as I can, I hiss at her not to touch the door handle and to get back on the scale. With one eye I'm trying to watch her; the other is trying to oversee the ever so delicate procedure that has dictated the need for the appointment at the office to begin with. Heaven help me if I pee all over myself! The thought flashes through my mind as her hand reaches for the lever. There's no way I can stop midstream and if I dump this sample I'm toast. There is no way on this green earth that I can endure this pain again within the next 30 minutes. Mind you, I'm there for a bladder infection and even the thought of trying to pee makes me feel as though I'm pushing shards of glass through my bladder and urethra.

Do I grab the child, foregoing the needed urine sample before she can get it unlocked? Or do I continue on my merry specimen collecting ways and pray with all my quickly beating heart that no one is standing on the other side of the door when it swings open?

I look down frantically and hope that the 1/4" in the bottom of the cup will suffice, set the cup hastily on the floor out of harm's way and lunge for the door. All while trying to keep my nether regions scantily covered by the hem of my shirt. There is no time to cover myself completely. As my knees straighten, I hear the deafening click of the lock unlatching and see the door begin to push outwards. I can feel myself go white with dread and red with embarrassment all at once.

The sliver of light between the door itself and its jam widens quickly to about an inch and then stops! By the grace of God I am saved! Hallelujah! Well, actually by the grace of your nurse who could overhear the conversation and quickly got her foot in front of the door as she heard it unlock, I was saved!

As a mother of a curious toddler, I plead with you that retrofit your beautiful restrooms with deadbolt latches at chest height. Or just deadbolt latches in general. Yes, I understand that it will detract from the elegant look you are trying to achieve but I promise it will increase customer satisfaction considerably. Your office is frequented by women -- many with small children -- so I imagine that I'm not the first to have felt the color drain from my face as that latch was popped free. As uncomfortable as trips to your office can be at times, I would prefer to not expose myself to innocent people in your beautifully decorated hallways. I would imagine that they prefer not to be exposed to my femaleness in all its glory either.

Your Truly,
Just Shy of Mortification in Idaho


Flying Monkeys said...

LMFAO!! I love that child! Hey, with all your progress you shouldn't be ashamed to show off your goods. :)

And I send that nurse some Christmas cookies next year.

Kristin, Rod, and Victoria said...

Holy crap! That actually happened to you?!?!?!? Eloquently put, as usual, my friend.

If not cookies, at least send her some chocolate!

Anonymous said...

That little cutie is H@ll on wheels! Thank god the nurse was there for the rescue!


Kristen said...

Lol... that is one for the baby book. That kid is a pistol!

peter said...

I was totally laughing my head off, probably because I have been there myself, my friend. Katelyn has attempted that trick in public restrooms before...luckily no one else was there. On top of that, it was a wonderfully written story...your really have a flair for writing. And I hope you are feeling better by now.

Erika said...

Oh my goodness, I am laughing so hard! I can totally relate, my 2 year old is the same way. Only she is deathly afraid of public restrooms (loud toilets are SO scary you know) so she immediately starts trying to open any door I use. Fun, fun, fun!