Sunday, March 29, 2009

Stool Sample

We decided to have Roan's poop tested. Because it's super nasty. I promise not to describe it, or post photos, because I understand that some people don't have babies, and don't spend their free time thinking about poop. Ah, I remember those days (insert nostalgic sigh).

Collecting a stool sample should be simple. At least that's what Jay thought when he showed up at the lab with one of Roan's dirty diapers.

"Ha ha ha," said the lab. "As if! Please fill these three test tubes until they are overflowing with poop. And don't spill the preservative. And please, get that dirty diaper out of here."

So, later that night Roan pooped. And we attempted to transfer the poop from his diaper to the tubes. The lid of each tube is equipped with the most miniscule spoon you've ever seen. Seriously, if we were use this tiny spoon to scoop the poop, we might have had the stool sample ready by Roan's tenth birthday. So we found alternate methods. One tube was nearly full when Jay knocked it over, spilling poo, and the preservative.

The next day, Jay returned to the lab with the two tubes.

"Not nearly enough," said the lab. "And here's this really enormous jar we forgot to give you the first time. Fill it up."

The lab wouldn't even take the two tubes that were ready, so we had to bring them back home. Is there an appropriate place to put two tubes of poop? The bathroom seemed wrong, but the kitchen and the bedroom were even worse.

We waited. And waited. A day passed, and no poop. Another half day passed. Roan seemed to sense how desperately we needed him to go, and clammed right up. In the meantime, two tubes of poop sat mockingly on our windowsill, behind a family photo.

Robot explains that he is on poo strike until his demands are met:
Finally: more poop. Just enough to fill the third test tube. I didn't worry about the jar; that had to be a joke - something we hallucinated in the haze of sleep deprivation. I went to the lab with confidence and the relief that comes from a hard job finally complete.

Grandpa Mac, Robot, and Robot poo accompany me to The Lab, full of hope:
Of course, when we got to the lab, it wasn't enough, and they sent us back home with another Big Jar.

"Your husband was really confused," the lab receptionist said. "Did you know he tried to give me a dirty diaper?" I just smile and beg her to take the three tubes of poo it has taken all week for us to collect. "Okay," she finally says, "I'll just keep these here until you come back with the jar."

A small success, but to me it felt huge. I walked away with a lighter step, and empty pockets.

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