It's a question on every one's mind, I'm certain. You have been there, I'm positive.
Imagine yourself sitting with your legs spread open in a public bathroom, holding a sterile cup under your stream of urine, trying your best not to wet your hand. You start to pee, hitting your hand (of course) and then repositioning the cup. You stop peeing, you bring the cup up to eye level to judge the amount of urine in the cup.
How much IS enough? You don't want to under fill the cup... that's got to be a sign of bad manners or ignorance or something awful, right? But on the other hand, you don't want to put too much in the cup either!
You put the cup back between your legs, wet your hand again, and finally get what seems to be an appropriate amount in the cup. Until you bring it to eye level again and it seems like too much now!
So you dump some out.
And now there isn't enough.
Would you like to know just how much is enough for a urine specimen cup? Sure you do!
Usually, and this is based on my personal experience as a urine dipper/micro-analyzer/urine culturer at Super Huge Clinic and not on any fact or written medical guideline (merely my own opinion as someone who sees a lot of piss during the day), I say aim for 1/3-1/2 full in the specimen cup.
Wanna know WHY? I'm telling you anyways, so listen up:
The pee is first "dipped" to test for leukocytes, blood, glucose, pH, and some other junk. The dip strip is about 4 inches long (ours gets run through a nifty bar code based auto scan machine!). The best way to make a 4 inch long flexible dip strip get covered uniformly in pee pee is to tilt the cup. Not enough urine makes me work to hard. Too much urine means that I get pee on my gloved hand, the counter, my shoes, my scrubs- you get the picture.
Next, if you have wonkie outta-whack pee (highly technical term there) it will either need (a) a micro (looking at your tinkle after spinning it in a centrifuge to see all the nasty in it at 100x magnification or (b) a culture. That means a little more pee than just a spritz at the bottom.
Lastly, if your pee is really messed up- like loads of blood, nitrites, leukocytes and that whole deal, then option (b) will be performed and you will have your wee-wee sent off in a "culture" tube. The culture tube is the same size as a smaller blood vile and works pretty much the same way- through a vacuum that slurps the pee into it and mixing it with a preservative. You need more than a sprinkle for this, most definitely.
Ok, so perhaps I got a little more technical than I was going for in all of that, but I just can't help myself sometimes. Everyone of us has had that moment in the bathroom wondering just how much is enough and how much is too much.
And if you were wondering, yes the lab tech will laugh at you if you send out an overflowingly full cup of tinkle. Especially is it is wet on the outside. Because we know you didn't wash the pee off the side of the cup. And if you hands are wet then you are just waaay gross. Because it's not water- oooh no! We know better.
And don't hide your pee cup in a paper towel. You made that whizz, be proud and show it off!
And if you are on your period TELL THE TECH... no body wants you to pee Hawaiian Punch in a cup- fo' reals yo!
Maybe tomorrow I will cover the do's and don'ts of all tests involving poop!
--The Milk Maid says she's just pissing off these days.
Showing posts with label PSA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PSA. Show all posts
10/7/08
Pass The Cup
(acne cures for all!)
4/9/08
Reader Mail, Part Two
After tackling sprinkle tinkle, I will now peruse back through my many suggestions for topics to write about (I smell something burning... Is that sarcasm Milk Maid?).
The first topic I shall tackle will be from Jennifer over at Playgroups are no place for children. Jennifer wrote, "How about [writing about] what you thought about motherhood before you had kids and motherhood afterwards? How about the WORST baby gift ever? Or the best? Or the most useless?"
Well Jennifer, as far as motherhood pre-kid and post-kid I feel pretty much the same. Oh sure, I had no idea I'd love the little devils so dang much. I also had no idea that children could make out the word S-U-C-K-E-R on my forehead. I also never would have dreamed at how much poop can possibly come out of a child.
Growing up an an only child I always wanted a large family of my own. I'm talking 5 or 6 kids! I would seriously still have a smathering of tiny people take over my home except for the one fact that Big J says poo-poo to that idea. Two, perhaps three max is his rule of thumb. Plus Paige. Yeah, I can see how the place would get filled up pretty quickly with half a dozen mini-mes.
As far as the worst baby gift ever- and the most useless too- that would have to be the Dick Tracey socks my aunt gave me... for a shower gift... yes that was all. It was the same pair of socks I'd gotten for my 10th birthday and re-gifted to my cousin. The best baby gift I got was the new cushions for Ava's rocker glider chair (that had been Faith's rocker glider). My Big J gave me those along with a nursing foot stool.
Moving along, Marcy asked about my favorite date with Jef. That's a hard one to pick, seeing as how they are ALL my favorite. If I had to choose, I would say the date where we went to play putt-putt in the freezing cold rain without our coats and ended up in the jewelry store looking at diamonds. Yep- that was my fave!
Baby Bound writes, "Well duh....its time for the Milk Maid to discover the fountain of youth, define the meaning of life, pin point the exact location of where the sky purchases its blue, and write God about gettin BabyBound a lil baby. DUH!!"
BB, I have discovered the fountain of youth. It's at my local mall and it seethes with young people. They practically OOZE forth all over the place, them and their perfectly perky teen-ness, their Abercrombie and Fitchness, their babydoll t-shirt-ness. Meet me there sometime BB... I'll be the one with the dark glasses that later follows them to their cars while wearing a hook hand and a scary mask.
The meaning of life is to look for a meaning in life. When you have all the answers to all the questions, then you die so you can't tell anyone.
You can purchase Sky Blue at any hardware store that offers paint matching.
The last Dear God letter I wrote backfired miserably... However, if you'd like me to chant to a fertility goddess skyclad, well- I hear the Pagan Gods are a little more forgiving for blasphemy.
Last but not least, K requests, "Physics. Definitely need to blog about physics. Or the relationship between physics and god. Yea. that'll do it."
Well K, the way I see it the laws of physics do not allow for a god to exist. And the way the Christian Church sees it, physics are something created by non-God fearing scientists who are trying to push the whole Big Bang theory into our schools. So basically everything equates down to this: Nothing is real. This is all make believe. Am I really sitting in this chair? IS there a chair? I'm falling OUT of this chair that doesn't exist! Oh God! Wait- there isn't one! Arrrrgh....
The first topic I shall tackle will be from Jennifer over at Playgroups are no place for children. Jennifer wrote, "How about [writing about] what you thought about motherhood before you had kids and motherhood afterwards? How about the WORST baby gift ever? Or the best? Or the most useless?"
Well Jennifer, as far as motherhood pre-kid and post-kid I feel pretty much the same. Oh sure, I had no idea I'd love the little devils so dang much. I also had no idea that children could make out the word S-U-C-K-E-R on my forehead. I also never would have dreamed at how much poop can possibly come out of a child.
Growing up an an only child I always wanted a large family of my own. I'm talking 5 or 6 kids! I would seriously still have a smathering of tiny people take over my home except for the one fact that Big J says poo-poo to that idea. Two, perhaps three max is his rule of thumb. Plus Paige. Yeah, I can see how the place would get filled up pretty quickly with half a dozen mini-mes.
As far as the worst baby gift ever- and the most useless too- that would have to be the Dick Tracey socks my aunt gave me... for a shower gift... yes that was all. It was the same pair of socks I'd gotten for my 10th birthday and re-gifted to my cousin. The best baby gift I got was the new cushions for Ava's rocker glider chair (that had been Faith's rocker glider). My Big J gave me those along with a nursing foot stool.
Moving along, Marcy asked about my favorite date with Jef. That's a hard one to pick, seeing as how they are ALL my favorite. If I had to choose, I would say the date where we went to play putt-putt in the freezing cold rain without our coats and ended up in the jewelry store looking at diamonds. Yep- that was my fave!
Baby Bound writes, "Well duh....its time for the Milk Maid to discover the fountain of youth, define the meaning of life, pin point the exact location of where the sky purchases its blue, and write God about gettin BabyBound a lil baby. DUH!!"
BB, I have discovered the fountain of youth. It's at my local mall and it seethes with young people. They practically OOZE forth all over the place, them and their perfectly perky teen-ness, their Abercrombie and Fitchness, their babydoll t-shirt-ness. Meet me there sometime BB... I'll be the one with the dark glasses that later follows them to their cars while wearing a hook hand and a scary mask.
The meaning of life is to look for a meaning in life. When you have all the answers to all the questions, then you die so you can't tell anyone.
You can purchase Sky Blue at any hardware store that offers paint matching.
The last Dear God letter I wrote backfired miserably... However, if you'd like me to chant to a fertility goddess skyclad, well- I hear the Pagan Gods are a little more forgiving for blasphemy.
Last but not least, K requests, "Physics. Definitely need to blog about physics. Or the relationship between physics and god. Yea. that'll do it."
Well K, the way I see it the laws of physics do not allow for a god to exist. And the way the Christian Church sees it, physics are something created by non-God fearing scientists who are trying to push the whole Big Bang theory into our schools. So basically everything equates down to this: Nothing is real. This is all make believe. Am I really sitting in this chair? IS there a chair? I'm falling OUT of this chair that doesn't exist! Oh God! Wait- there isn't one! Arrrrgh....
:::Poof:::
--The Milk Maid is planning that nice vacation for the River Styx as we speak.
4/8/08
The Soggy Butt Blues
It has come to my recent attention (from my wonderful new lurker friend "HellTygr") that a Public Service Announcement needs to be made about a topic ALL of us ladies are familiar with...
The Oft Misused Method of "The Hover" In Public Restrooms.
*
You know what I am talking about right? For sake of keeping your rump germ free in a public restroom, many women employ The Hover Technique. If you have lived on Mars for the past 455 years and are unfamiliar with this method of sanitary protection, the basic concept is to drop your pants and panties to Beyond Knee Range, spread your feet to ensure a steady stance (and keep said pants and panties to Above Ankle Range, aka Dirty Wet Clothing Range) then curl yourself into a position much akin to a downhill skier's tuck while you levitate over the dirty, nasty, filthy, slimy toilet seat.
*
As far as keeping germ-free, this method can have its merits. However, as HellTygr points out in her e-mail, this method is not for people who lack aim. Women of the world, take note: We do NOT have the equipment to aim a stream of urine hurling from our bodies anywhere (exception being if we are in the woods taking a leak we will successfully wet our socks 100% of the time).
*
Now, if you are a user of The Hover Method let me go ahead and apologise. No, on second thought I think all you hover-ers should apologise to ME seeing as how I sat in a rather large spatter of sprinkle this very morning! I even looked carefully at the seat before perching atop, so I'm sure that who ever was out there peeing on toilet seats in Atlanta this morning is well hydrated. I will go on the assumption pointed out to me by HellTygr that there are just some women out there who "feel the need to get revenge on the world in a situation where they no longer have to clean up after themselves".
*
I suppose the moral of this story could be based on the old Proverb:
*
If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweet and wipe the seat.
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Or, perhaps the moral of the story could be this newer and perhaps more appropriate Proverb:
*
You wont be touching your face with your ass anytime soon,
so sit down and take a load off- it's called a restroom after all!
*
--The Milk Maid says sprinkle te tinkle te tuutuu!
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