UTI: PART DEUX
By thegirlfriendmom on March 28, 2011
I know many of you were concerned about my UTI, which is why I'm revisiting the topic. Actually, it's revisiting me.
I woke up this morning at 5:30a. It's baaaccckkk. And once again, I went searching for the clinics number, because of course I couldn't find my receipt from the last visit and I never thought to take a business card. Why should I? I wasn't going to be returning.
I found the number online, which was no easy feat because I couldn't remember the actual name of the clinic. Why should I? I wasn't going to be returning. My urethra had other ideas.
I canceled my evening Pilates classes, which I absolutely abhor doing, but I had no idea how long the line at the clinic (Clinic sounds like a place where you go to illegal and naughty things) was going to be and when I'd be released. That, and I was feeling crappy crap.
The only bright spot in this whole ordeal was driving my Mini Cooper to the clinic. I love my car. Someone in another Mini actually waved at me when we passed. It was like a secret handshake.
And with the purchase of my new Mini, comes a free weekly car wash. I know, I was so excited. And there's usually donuts or cookies and coffee in the reception area. Could my purchase get any better?!
Anyhoo, I arrived at the clinic, signed in and took the last available seat. It was standing room only. At least I brought my Kindle. About five minutes later, I heard a faint, "Dani" coming from the reception area. It couldn't have been me, because there were so many people. And it sort of sounded like Dena. Thirty seconds later, there was another, "Dani?" I moved in a little closer because I still wasn't sure. Great, in addition to a bacteria infested urethra, I'm now losing my hearing.
And then the receptionist screamed, (No joke, it was a scream) and really who could blame her, "Daaannniii?" I jumped up out of my seat and walked over to the receptionist. I felt every eye of everyone sitting in that room, piercing a hole in the back of my head. I was a little embarrassed because now these strangers were going to think that I didn't know my own name, or that I was slow.
The receptionist was holding a pee pee cup in her hand as she read from a piece of paper. And when I say that she had a loud voice, I'm not exaggerating. There's no way that the entire waiting room did not hear the following conversation.
Receptionist: "So, what are you here for? A recheck of your urine. We're going to dip it again and test it."
Me: (Whispering, hoping that she might get the hint) "I guess so."
Receptionist: "Okay," (She turns) "Doctor Rittenberg, you're going to test her urine again? (Remember, she's projecting!) Here's the cup. Use this clean wipe first and then leave it on the other side in the back. They'll test it right away."
She did not just tell me and the listening audience to use the clean wipe. Do I look like I'm four years old? What is wrong with you, woman?!
Me: "Can I wait back there as well?" I didn't want to turn around and face my public. Instead, I wanted to disappear into thin air and reappear in the bathroom.
Receptionist: "You can wait here, or you can wait in the back, I don't care."
I should've asked her to take it down a notch and show some restraint in advertising my business. What I heard was her yelling like a Circus Barker, "Ladies and gentlemen, she's about to pee in a tiny plastic cup. Step right up."
The doctor, once again, confirmed what I had known at 5:30am this morning. She sent me off with another prescription of antibiotics, which I hate taking. The visit was free and this time I left with a business card. You don't have to tell me twice. But if you do, can you whisper it in my ear.
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