Success! I was able to produce the required 75ml on demand. But not on first request, as usual.
I'm sure I've mentioned it before but one of my most pervasive psychological problems (oh yeah, I've got a few) is my intense "pee-shyness". I think I've always had it to some extent but it has only gotten worse over the years. Couple that with some real physical issues like a possible enlarged prostate and it becomes a Herculean effort to try to piss on cue.
The need was, once again, for a pre-employment drug test. The urine samples needed for routine lab work from the doctor are not a problem because I can take the cup home and bring it back to the lab...no Chain of Custody and anti-duping procedures. Who's gonna fake a doctor's order for urine? But the drug test urine sample must be secure. Logical, since you can imagine why some people would want to fake this.
I prepped ahead of time, of course. Got up at 8:00 and didn't pee although the usual morning urge was there. Then I got a large diet cola at Burger King on the way to the lab, to be sure I had a nice, full bladder.
But when I had the little plastic cup in my hand and was staring at a toilet taped up with red "Do Not Remove" tape, I knew it was gonna be a long morning. Though the A/C was cranking in this place, I was sweating, trying to get a dribble going.
Everything was bothering me, distracting me from my goal.
First it was my underwear and shorts...in my mind they were seemingly in the way and I feared leaking onto them which would have made a wet spot all over my crotch. I imagined walking out to the waiting room and all the old people in there laughing at me.
Yes, phobias produce such inane trains of thought.
Next it was my "little guy". He was all "shrinkaged" in the George Costanza sense due to the raging air conditioning. I didn't know which way he'd spew. Again the image of giggling elderly folks.
As my anxiety intensified I started to see black spots and was getting dizzy. Yes, it's that bad that I get close to passing out! My inner voice was screaming at me. "If you can't do this, you won't get the job!" it warned me. "You'll become homeless and you'll be begging for food...all because of an ounce of piss!"
I zipped up and disappointingly shuffled back to the nurse. Thinking I'd finished, she told me to set the cup down on the counter. I told her I needed to try again a little later. She was nice about it but she must have been thinking "Oh brother!"
An hour (and about a quart of water) later, I tried again. My bladder was full to the brim and it was somewhat painful at this point. Surely I'll do it this time, I thought.
Again, now with a fresh cup. Fumble with clothing. Senior citizens mocking me. Micro dick. Guffawing geezers. Sweatin' and swoonin'. Self-thought harassment.
Just as I was about to give up for the second time, I remembered that line in the movie "The Madness of King George". The king had some disease which, amongst all manner of nasty symptoms, made it hard for him to pee. There's a scene where he's over the chamber pot with his "little scepter" in hand and he's struggling to produce. He's self-disgusted and yells out loud "Do it, England! Do it!" And wha la...the royal fountain springs.
So that's what I did. Although I didn't shout it out. The nurse would have really rolled her eyes then.
And, just perhaps, the geriatrics would have LOL'd till the cows came home.
I'm sure I've mentioned it before but one of my most pervasive psychological problems (oh yeah, I've got a few) is my intense "pee-shyness". I think I've always had it to some extent but it has only gotten worse over the years. Couple that with some real physical issues like a possible enlarged prostate and it becomes a Herculean effort to try to piss on cue.
The need was, once again, for a pre-employment drug test. The urine samples needed for routine lab work from the doctor are not a problem because I can take the cup home and bring it back to the lab...no Chain of Custody and anti-duping procedures. Who's gonna fake a doctor's order for urine? But the drug test urine sample must be secure. Logical, since you can imagine why some people would want to fake this.
I prepped ahead of time, of course. Got up at 8:00 and didn't pee although the usual morning urge was there. Then I got a large diet cola at Burger King on the way to the lab, to be sure I had a nice, full bladder.
But when I had the little plastic cup in my hand and was staring at a toilet taped up with red "Do Not Remove" tape, I knew it was gonna be a long morning. Though the A/C was cranking in this place, I was sweating, trying to get a dribble going.
Everything was bothering me, distracting me from my goal.
First it was my underwear and shorts...in my mind they were seemingly in the way and I feared leaking onto them which would have made a wet spot all over my crotch. I imagined walking out to the waiting room and all the old people in there laughing at me.
Yes, phobias produce such inane trains of thought.
Next it was my "little guy". He was all "shrinkaged" in the George Costanza sense due to the raging air conditioning. I didn't know which way he'd spew. Again the image of giggling elderly folks.
As my anxiety intensified I started to see black spots and was getting dizzy. Yes, it's that bad that I get close to passing out! My inner voice was screaming at me. "If you can't do this, you won't get the job!" it warned me. "You'll become homeless and you'll be begging for food...all because of an ounce of piss!"
I zipped up and disappointingly shuffled back to the nurse. Thinking I'd finished, she told me to set the cup down on the counter. I told her I needed to try again a little later. She was nice about it but she must have been thinking "Oh brother!"
An hour (and about a quart of water) later, I tried again. My bladder was full to the brim and it was somewhat painful at this point. Surely I'll do it this time, I thought.
Again, now with a fresh cup. Fumble with clothing. Senior citizens mocking me. Micro dick. Guffawing geezers. Sweatin' and swoonin'. Self-thought harassment.
Just as I was about to give up for the second time, I remembered that line in the movie "The Madness of King George". The king had some disease which, amongst all manner of nasty symptoms, made it hard for him to pee. There's a scene where he's over the chamber pot with his "little scepter" in hand and he's struggling to produce. He's self-disgusted and yells out loud "Do it, England! Do it!" And wha la...the royal fountain springs.
So that's what I did. Although I didn't shout it out. The nurse would have really rolled her eyes then.
And, just perhaps, the geriatrics would have LOL'd till the cows came home.