Imagine a half-naked toddler holding an electric toothbrush between her vibrating teeth, her bottom half suspended over the toilet. Her mother, holding the increasingly weighty child, hums the Oscar Mayer weiner jingle. Repeatedly. That would be how we spent our Wednesday afternoon and how, after many tearful attempts, we eventually succeeded in getting a urine sample from Lula. We had tried while in the doctor's office on Tuesday, however, it would seem that Lula suffers not only from a kidney infection but stage fright as well. The nurse standing with us in the restroom was of little help. Had she thought the doctor ordered a drug test? Had she imagined a baby-sized crack pipe hanging out the diaper bag? Perhaps she thought I'd switch the urine, submitting mine instead? Unsuccessful in our efforts, we collected the sadly unused supplies and made for home, promising to return the following day with something more useful. Which brings us to Wednesday and the aforementioned image in which the vibrating toothbrush and wiener jingle finally prevailed. How many other combinations of things and songs had been tried I can't say. Having completed her mission in filling the hat*, Lula was promptly dispatched with a congratulatory, "For the love of God, DON'T TOUCH!" as images of the upturned vessel and it's spilled contents filled my head. I hastily grabbed the hat and made for the cup into which the sacred fluid would be poured. Cup filled, cap securely fastened. Victory was at hand! Gathering car keys, diaper bag, and The Holy Challis, I'm nearly out the door before I realize The Infected One is still naked. Crap. Ten minutes later and it's car keys, diaper bag, challis, T.I.O. (now clothed), and the companions she now decides she can't leave behind, Blanket and Panda Bear. In the car, all is secured but the urine sample. "Where do I... Ahah! The cup holder!" Lula hollers most of the way and I imagine her beseeching me, "Woman, where are you taking me and my fluids?!" Upon our arrival to the doctor's office we are greeted by the same nurse, who this time reaches out her gloved hands to accept our offering. Gloves? First a drug test and now a body cavity search?! Oh, hell no! Lula and I rush out the door, leaving the nurse in our dust. Safe in the car, we happily make our way home, singing our favorite songs. The wiener jingle was decidedly left out.
*The urine is collected in what is termed a "hat", a plastic basin that sits within the toilet bowl and that I'm told is named for it's resemblance to (guess!) a hat. This might be true if you're eying the "hat" while standing on your head. Squinting. Having consumed a few cocktails. Although now recognizing the "hat" as truly hat-like, you then find yourself pondering, "who would wear a plastic hat that resembles an inverted bedpan?"
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