Chapter One

INTRODUCTION

There will be days when you don’t have to pee

cause you went just before you showed up.

But your new job requires you pass a drug test

and you’re asked to please pee in a cup.

You try and you try and you push and you push

to pee past that daunting blue line.

But you’re all out of pee and your body’s confused

about what to do on that porcelain shrine.

you think “holy shit” while you try to pinch off

an un-holy mess you can’t stop.

Your body freezes with fear, your head jerks towards the door

and you’re sure the whole world heard the plop.

You can’t flush the toilet, there’s no trash can insight;

it turns out there’s not much to do.

You’ll have to walk out with your pee in a cup

and leave the toilet unflushed with your poo.

 You stare at the floor while the tech takes your pee

and heads back to the scene of the crime.

You wonder if you should explain the mishap -

surely shit like this happens all the time?

 In the end, you keep quiet, too embarrassed to joke;

you feel like the lowest of swine.

But you pull it together as you sulk out the door

and you say to yourself, “Dude…it’s fine.”

THE most awkward badge photo in the history of badge photos

True story.  I had just moved back from Hawaii and was super pumped to get a second job back at my old place of employment.  I totally spaced the drug test the day I showed up to complete all of my pre-employment screening with Human Resources, which is why I relieved myself the minute I got to the hospital, only to discover the lab would need a sizeable sample before I could leave - otherwise my drug screen would be considered an automatic fail. 

I’m a 43-year-old woman.  I’ve birthed four kids.  I can pee on demand, no problemo.  Or so I thought.  I took what suddenly felt like the world’s largest sample cup from the lab tech (who, might I add, I knew from previously working at that hospital) and semi-confidently strutted into the bathroom to do my thang.  Unfortunately, my thang ended up only being about two teaspoon’s worth and the lab needed more like ¼ cup.  I paused, tried again, got another teaspoon out, paused, tried again and got even less.  It was ridiculous.  Time was ticking and at the rate I was trickling, I wouldn’t have a complete sample for another hour.  So, I did the obvious thing and started pushing with every underused muscle in my lower abdomen I could muster and while I was able to create a steady stream of coveted urine, I also inadvertently released most of my lunch, too.  (No, I’m not going to explain this part to you, you sickos.)

Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling at that moment.  The water in the bathroom was shut off so that I couldn’t flush the toilet before the lab tech had a chance to make sure I hadn’t scooped any of the pre-treated liquid into my sample cup.  There were no trash cans, so as much as I would’ve loved to try and fish out the poop and bury it in a garbage can until I was allowed to flush, it wasn’t an option.  In the end, there was nothing to do except hang my head, take a walk of shame and refuse to make eye contact with the lab tech as I handed over the specimen cup and waited for her to return from her examination of the disaster I left in the toilet.  I’m sure the disdain I heard in her voice when she told me the water had been turned on and I could flush was imagined but I heard it nonetheless.  I couldn’t get out of the lab fast enough and I secretly hoped she would quit her job before I had to face her again.

Here's the thing: it’s a hospital.  We see gross stuff all the time.  Was I the first person to drop a load in her special non-flushing toilet?  I seriously doubt it.  Astoundingly, it also wasn’t the first time I’d inadvertently pooped in front of a co-worker.  I gave birth to four kids, remember?  And the last one was at a hospital I worked at, with nurses and a doctor I considered good friends.  Have you ever tried to push a baby out of your va-jay-jay and not poop?  It doesn’t work.  I promise. 

My cute little Hawaiian hospital…I would’ve stayed forever. Poop Free.

Anyway, …the point of all of this is people poop.  And I’m not just talking in the literal “ridding oneself of excrement” kind of way.  I mean, we mess up.  We poop on ourselves, we poop on other people, we get pooped on.  We screw up.  We make dumb decisions.  We hurt people we love and get hurt by people we thought loved us.  Life is a series of poopy things happening over and over again and we can either cower in a bathroom, staring at a toilet full of crap we can’t flush or we can laugh to ourselves all the way home and decide to write a ridiculous poem about it to use as the intro to our new book. 

Dude…it’s fine.

XOXO,

Ames