The sample

It sounded so simple as she handed me the cup.

“OK! We just need a little urine sample and you can be on your way.”

The nurse was a cheerful one.

I stared at her for a minute wondering how on God’s great green earth we were just going to get a ‘little urine sample’ from Rhema.

The girls and I packed ourselves into the small bathroom.

All the years of toilet training – the breaking down the process into small steps, the reinforcers, the PECS symbols, the sign language, the blood, sweat and dirty laundry, and the tears when she finally “got” the bathroom ritual - it all seemed to converge on this one moment in time. And I had a sense that I was about to rock her ordered, routine-loving world.

She settled onto the seat. I casually slid my hand in and held the cup under her.

Now I’ve been wiping this child for all seven years of her life. But she looked at me like what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks do you think you’re doing, woman!

“Cup, Rhema! Go potty in the cup!!!”

She grunted and pushed my hand away. I put my hand back. She pushed it away. I put it back. She grabbed the cup, peered inside and tried to drink out of it… (Cups are for drinking out of, not peeing in. Duh.)

Back at the nurse’s station, I placed the empty cup on the counter.

“Yyyyyeah, this ain’t gonna work,” I said.

“Um. OK. Let’s try this!” she said, still cheerful. “You can pour what you collect in this bowl into the cup. We just need a little sample.”

Hope then confided in the nurse with a not-so-loud whisper, “Sometimes when I go potty, I pee HOT pee pee!!!”

We packed ourselves into the small bathroom. I carefully placed the bowl under the toilet seat.

“Rhema! Let’s go potty!”

At this point, Rhema really had to go and she did not appreciate all the shuffling back and forth to the restroom. But when she approached the toilet she was appalled and deeply offended by what she saw:

No way, Jose. (I’m sure that’s what she said.)

The next ten minutes was a battle of the wills. Me placing her on the throne. Rhema abdicating. Hope begging me to let her pee on the happy potty. I thought about it. They’re sisters after all. Hope’s sample had to be pretty close to Rhema’s. I also contemplated removing the smiley bowl and letting Rhema go the regular way. Then I could scoop a cup-full out of the toilet and call it a day…

Back at the nurse’s desk, I handed her the bowl.

“Yyyyeah, this ain’t gonna work.”

“Oh… well. You can take the cup home and bring it back later.”

But Rhema was fidgeting. She really had to go. I decided to give it one last try.

I put her on the seat while hiding the cup behind my back.

Then I took one for the team. After she started going, I plunged my hand in and caught some pee.

“I got some! I got some!!!”

Hope clapped. But Rhema was so upset by it all that she stopped producing. She simply could not go anymore.

Quickly I set the cup on the sink and helped her off the toilet.

We washed our hands. Rhema liked the soap dispenser and reached for more soap. In so doing she knocked that precious cup o’ pee right off the sink.

I let out a blood-curdling scream as it hit the floor, the contents spraying my sandaled feet…

Back at the nurse’s desk, I put the cup on the counter. The top was screwed on now and there were a few little yellow drops inside.

“Is this enough?” I said every bit as cheerful as her.

She peered at our sample and then looked at me.

“Yyyyeah, this ain’t gonna work.”

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