To Pee or Not to Pee
Part of being an airline pilot involves getting a special physical on a regular interval. My airline happens to require me to go see the doc every six months, so before I head back to work on Monday I had to go get my “medical” this past Thursday. If you are under the age of 35, they’re not that big of a deal. You fill out some forms, hand over around $80 and get the basics checked. Can you see? Great! Can you hear? Awesome. Once at age 35 though, you are hooked up to an EKG machine to make sure the ticker is ticking at a level we all want our pilots to be at. And yes, of course, we all have to pee in a cup.
Over the years, I have become quite good at peeing in the small, but doable (or should I say, peeable) plastic cup. Being a girl and all makes me quite proud of this accomplishment.
Because I was on a short timeline, I had to go to a doctor that I had never been to before on Thursday. Even though the medicals are pretty standard, it is a little nerve racking to go to a “new guy” who just might find something wrong with you that will effectively end your career. After coming off of unemployment, I am just not in the mood for that to happen.
So I find the Doctor’s office and check in with my liter of water in tow to add to the enormous amount of water I have already had that morning in anticipation of peeing in the cup. One has to be prepared for these things and I don’t want to have to spend any more time than I have to trying to make myself have to go to the bathroom. By the time I see the Doctor, I am floating.
Normally (or at least at every other medical I have done in the last 17 years), the first thing you do is pee in a cup. Nope, not here. The first thing he did was weigh me which, again back to being a girl, is mortifying. Do you know how much water weighs? Well I do. And so does everyone at the Doctor’s office and of course the fine folk at the FAA. Come Monday, my company will know too.
I bite my tongue even though every part of me wanted to start whining or at the very least, make an extremely inappropriate snarky remark. At this point in the medical proceedings, I am feeling very proud of myself for practicing some new-found and hopefully lasting, self restraint.
We continue on with the eye exam and ear tests. The doc then takes out his hearing aids to listen to my heart and lungs through his stethoscope. I keep my mouth shut and my laughter to myself and smile again at how this new and improved restrained “me” is going pretty well.
When it appears that the exam is over, I just figured maybe I didn’t have give a “urine collection” this time. That or he just forgot. Nope.
The doc, pulls out a Sharpie and a dixie cup. Writes my name on it, hands it to me, and says “bathroom’s down the hall, just leave it in there when you’re done.”. A DIXIE CUP. You know, those impossibly small paper cups that your mother had in the bathroom in the plastic dispenser? Seriously, what are those things for? You can’t get an actual drink of water from them and I don’t know of anyone who shares mouthwash to necessitate another cup. But anyway, at the moment I was faced with having to pee in one.
I did my best, left it in the bathroom, got my paper medical to take to work, and left. I just paid $80 to pee in a Dixie cup. It just feels wrong.