I'm not sure which is worse, peeing my pants or what I did today at my prenatal appointment.
If you're not familiar with the process, I'll fill you in. Every time I go to a prenatal appointment, I am asked to go in their special bathroom, write my name and birthdate on a plastic cup, pee into said cup, and place it into a metal chamber on the wall that I then spin around so the nurse on the other side can grab my cup and make fun of the color.
Usually, I am disappointed in the amount I am able to offer up to the Urine Inspectors. True, they only need a very small amount of urine to test, but I hate seeing that cup only a quarter filled. Seems like such a waste of the rest of the cup.
Today, I didn't do anything special to prepare for my offering, but when I provided my special sample, I found I filled the cup almost to the brim! That was a very satisfying feeling! I couldn't wait to submit my specimen, so I didn't bother getting up from my seat before reaching up with my cup to the metal chamber. I was contentedly guiding my cup to its destination, when -- I don't know what happened-- the sun got in my eye? I blinked? I had a mini stroke? -- I spilled my very full cup!
"AAAAAACKKKK! OH NO!" I screamed.
Urine was everywhere! Running out of the chamber, down the wall, behind the toilet paper dispenser, all over the handicap bathroom rail, running further down the wall, and pooling onto the floor where there was a surprisingly generous puddle forming. I WAS MORTIFIED! All that was left in the cup was a measly collection of drops.
I grabbed some paper towels and pushed the puddle of urine out of the chamber before a nurse spun it around to her. I grabbed the marker and wrote on my cup "I spilled it. Sorry!" and embarrassedly put the nearly-barren cup on the chamber and turned it around. I heard normal chatter and then some mumbling.
I began the quick work of getting dressed. That's when I found out I had also spilled my cup's contents onto my underwear and pants. (Ew!) (Ugh.) This proves that there is more than one way to pee your pants.
I grabbed more paper towels and began wiping down the wall and dripping rail. I threw massive amounts of papertowels on the puddle on the floor. (Ugh.) I tossed wet paper towel after wet paper towel into the garbage and thought about how the room would smell in another hour. (Ugh.) As I was mopping, I heard a spraying sound and the room began smelling like disinfectant. I looked up and saw the metal chamber spinning around and around as the nurse was spraying and cleaning it. I wanted to hang my head in humiliation.
I frantically washed my hands and accidentally ran my arm under the running faucet and got water on the cuff of my sweatshirt. Great. Looks just like I spilled the golden offense on my sleeve, too. I dried my hands and rolled up my cuff to hide the spill.
It was time to come out of the bathroom. And I didn't want to. I paused in front of the door. I would be facing the very people who cleaned up my pee.
I inhaled, exhaled, put on a smile and opened the door. There was my doctor and two nurses. I chuckled nervously. They were smiling a little too big and being a little too quiet. I was searching for an appropriate comment about the situation when my doctor jumped in and bailed me out by bringing up my cute daughter. If only he would have given me another second or two.
I will be content (and careful) in the future with my small yellow offerings. I know, though, that from here on out, the nurses will refer to me as that one patient with the incontinent hand.