It is no secret that I have been batting ill health as of late, culiminating in me being X-rayed last night for suspected pneumonia, and a series of blood tests this morning.
After arriving at the clinic this morning, a male nurse handed me a cup and asked me to provide a sample. What he had actually requested was a phlegm sample, but his thick Russian accent, combined with my malady-induced lack of concentration, conspired to produce a misunderstanding of sorts.
A few minutes later, I proudly placed the urine-filled cup on his desk. The look of horror in the nurse’s eyes was enough for me to realize that I had made a terrible mistake. I promptly took another container and got it right the second time around.
I do not know whether or not the nurse took it personally, interpreting my initial mistake as a deliberate prank or challenge to his authority. But what I do know is that he was not all that gentle when he stuck the needle in to my vein to draw blood a few minutes later.
