The sample

 If you're like me, the word 'sample' conjures up images of tiny bottles of shampoo, perfume and body lotion, or tasty morsels stabbed through with toothpicks and proffered by middle-aged women in branded aprons at the supermarket.

But no - in this instance, I'm referring to urine.

Now that I'm of a certain age, I'm obliged to go to the GP for an annual check-up. That happened a few weeks back, but apparently, my urine sample was 'contaminated' (that doesn't bear dwelling on) and needed to be repeated.

I was back at work so getting away from my desk to get it done took a few weeks, so I rang first to make sure the local clinic was still expecting me - but really to save the embarrassment of having to announce my purpose at the none-too-private reception. They said sure, come on up.

Turns out the call was a wasted effort. When I got there, I still had to tell them - loudly due to both face masks and a barrier to force social distancing - why I was there. I was handed a specimen jar and told to bring it back to reception.  What?? Normally you drop it in a hutch at pathology and job done. 

I did question it, but she insisted she needed pathology to organise labels, so I needed to bring it back.

Having collected said sample, I slunk back to reception, trying desperately to be nonchalant about the entire ordeal. A man was talking with my receptionist so I was forced to loiter, sample in the jar in a clear zip-lock bag at my side - for what felt like an hour. The man suddenly turned to me to point out the other receptionist was off the phone and now free. I sidled over. Of course, then I had to explain, loudly, the whole thing again. 'And what's your name?' she asked. There went any possible anonymity that my mask may have provided in the now almost full waiting room. She called pathology - I waited - and was finally instructed to go and drop it in the hutch.

As I returned to reception, she flagged me over to ask me to write my name on a Post-it note. When I turned around, I heard 'MWW! Hi! How are you?'  and there was a mum from school, who I'm very fond of, right behind me in the waiting room with her three kids, including one of Sass's friends.  O..M..G. They MUST have witnessed this entire event! I chatted briefly (not mentioning the wee situation) and when another mum arrived who she knew and I didn't, made my escape.

I know I shouldn't be embarrassed - but I was!!!