Tuesday, March 11, 2008
When I arrived back at the office after a quick trip to Home Depot and McDonald's, clutching a bag containing a filet-o-fish sandwich and a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu, I was met at the door of my office by Heidi Barkdull and Dave Williams. Dave apologetically handed me two pieces of paper and informed me that I had thirty minutes to get to a nearby medical office to submit to a random drug screening test. I had to sign and date a form acknowledging that I had received such notice and would submit to such testing procedures. I signed the form at 12:48 pm. I asked Heidi if she thought I had time to eat my lunch first. She suggested I could eat on the way to the collection site.
I ate the cheeseburger on the way to Concentra Medical Center on Dry Creek Circle. I assumed by the time I checked in, made my requisite deposit and checked out, the filet-o-fish would still be warm and I’d be back at the office by 1:30. I signed in at Concentra at 1:03. After waiting for about 5 minutes, I was handed a clipboard with three forms. I signed the forms and handed over my driver’s license so they could make a copy to verify my identity.
At approximately 1:18, I was summoned to follow Josh Ramirez back to the specimen area. He told me to empty my pockets, put all the items from my pockets into a lock box. Lock the box. Keep the key with me. Wash my hands. Then he handed me a plastic cup with instructions to fill it up to a particular line. If I exceeded the line, I could switch the flow from the specimen cup to the toilet, but I was not to flush the toilet. I opened the door and entered the rather bare room. Holding the cup in one hand, I unzipped with the other, held the specimen cup under the spigot, anxiously awaiting the onset of the evidentiary flow. And waited… and waited. After about three minutes, Josh tapped on the door. “Mr. Tolman, are you okay?” I put the cup down, repositioned the non-compliant spigot and zipped my pants back up. I opened the door, handed the empty cup to the smiling Mr. Ramirez and apologized. “That happens”, he said. He had me sign and date another form to acknowledge that I had been unable to furnish an “adequate specimen”. I duly certified that I had been unable to pee at 1:25 pm. He then informed me that I had three hours to produce an “adequate specimen”. I could not leave the building. He said I could return to the waiting room and drink up to 4 cups of water to promote the production of the desired evidence. After retrieving my personal effects from the lock box and washing my hands again, I returned to the waiting room, picked up a styrofoam cup which would contain 10 ounces of liquid and in a dignified, nonchalant manner, so as not to arouse the curiosity or suspicion of others in the waiting room, slammed down 4 full cups of water. And waited for a tingling feeling from Mr. Bladder to tell me it was time to retest.
While I was waiting for such feeling, a fellow Halliburton employee, Jeff Segor presented himself at the front desk, filled out the requisite paperwork, disappeared with Mr. Ramirez for a few brief moments before sauntering back through the waiting room and out the door to freedom.
I called Deanna, explained my location and predicament. I asked her if she had any suggestions or strategies to help bring my problem to a successful conclusion. Her laughter did not lift my spirits. I picked up a copy of USA Today and browsed through 3 of the 4 sections. At 2:20, I caught Mr. Ramirez’s attention, thinking after almost an hour a quart of water certainliy ought to have gone far enough through the system to generate a few tablespoons of evidence.
He invited me back again. I emptied my pockets, locked them into the lock box, washed my hands, this time with warmer water for a longer time, bending to one of Deanna’s suggestions that the warmer water might promote a better result. Josh handed me a new specimen cup. With renewed enthusiasm, I entered the bathroom, unzipped Mr. Spigot and… waited again. I flicked, shook, rubbed (only slightly) the now-offending body part. Not a stream. Not a trickle. Not a drop. Nothing. After perhaps two minutes total time, Josh tapped at the door. “Wendell? It’s okay.” I put myself back together and sheepishly opened the door with the sad, empty container. I retrieved my personal items again from the lock box, and washed my hands for the fourth time. His instructions were different this time.
“We only have until 4:30. You can drink as much water as you’d like.”
“But I thought you said I could only have 4 cups of water”, I protested.
“That’s because we worry about diluting the urine. In your case, there’s nothing to dilute”, he reasoned. I couldn’t argue with his logic.
I was delighted to find the waiting room had almost emptied out. I went right to the water cooler and started chugging. I lost count after 12 cups of water. When I could drink no more, I started pacing back and forth across the waiting room, hoping that physical movement would hasten the movement of the liquid through my apparently deficient excretory system. The young ladies at the front desk seemed to sympathize with my situation. At 3:00, when I told Mr. Ramirez I thought I might be ready to try it again, they cheered me on.
I placed my wallet, car keys, cell phone and 27 cents in coin carefully into the lock box. I was preoccupied with the task at hand. Josh reminded me to lock the box and take the key. I turned the faucet and waited for the water to reach a comfortable warm temperature before thoroughly washing my hands. I turned, and for the third time, accepted an empty specimen cup from Josh. He nodded, made a small fist and said, “You can do this”.
I opened the door, stepped in and locked the door. This time, I loosened my belt, dropped my trousers, moved the specimen collection device into position and uttered a silent, but very sincere prayer. And waited. After several anxious seconds, feeling led to a drop, then a trickle, but not more. The trickle was enough to reach the minimum line. I was very careful to not spill or drop the long awaited specimen. Josh had me sign a document verifying that the specimen had indeed come out of my body. I initialed the specimen container. The form verified that the specimen was "presented" by the donor at 3:05 pm.
The receptionist, having witnessed my intake in the waiting room offered to provide a list of potential restrooms I might need on the way home. I thanked her for her concern.
I returned to the office. I warmed my filet-o-fish in the microwave at the office. It was palatable.
I don’t think I’ll write anymore. I have to pee.
