more stuff you don't need to know
I've had a good portion of my bloodwork drawn and no one has yet phoned me in a state of panic, screaming 'oh my god, you have no progesterone!', so I gather that nothing is too much amiss. While I still have two more tests to go for, and have yet to hear from the ob/gyn with an appointment date, this past Saturday ended Mr. Q's contribution to the great fertility question.
"Time Sensitive Specimen"
These are code words that Mr. Q had to use upon his auspicious arrival at the lab. There was a 20 minute window of opportunity for drop off - presumably just before the courier arrived to make a run to the testing site, a few suburbs away.
Don't worry. This post is not about Mr. Q's Time Sensitive Specimen. It's about everyone else and their Time Sensitive Specimens [here after, now referred to as TSS].
Upon arrival, Mr. Q hovered near the desk and waited for an empty wicket, at which point he jumped the queue and quietly informed the staff member of the well-hidden TSS. She calmly began to deal with all the requisite paperwork and computer entry.
Mr. Q, it seems, has a propensity for subtlety and tact that is lacking in a great many others. [who knew?] During our brief lab visit, several other gentlemen arrived with TSSs for drop off. ['another one??!!', one staff member was heard to exclaim] Not all were remotely well hidden, nor even quietly presented. In fact, making as large a fuss as possible seemed to be some sort of requirement - fortunately, that particular requirement had been left off of Mr. Q's instruction sheet.
This was an extremely busy clinic. Had there not been a significant number children and elderly in attendance, I'd have been laughing my ass off at the frazzled, harried guys [a couple of whom weredisturbingly surprisingly young] running around with their requisitions and, occassionally [thankfully], brown paper bags.
While the mechanism of getting the TSS through the queue worked, there has to be a calmer way to accomplish it. But, when dealing with a bunch of frazzled, harried guys, perhaps not. I just hope that, when I have to go back for the rest of my bloodwork, it's not the drop-off time for any Time Sensitive Specimens. I can't possibly not giggle twice in a row.
"Time Sensitive Specimen"
These are code words that Mr. Q had to use upon his auspicious arrival at the lab. There was a 20 minute window of opportunity for drop off - presumably just before the courier arrived to make a run to the testing site, a few suburbs away.
Don't worry. This post is not about Mr. Q's Time Sensitive Specimen. It's about everyone else and their Time Sensitive Specimens [here after, now referred to as TSS].
Upon arrival, Mr. Q hovered near the desk and waited for an empty wicket, at which point he jumped the queue and quietly informed the staff member of the well-hidden TSS. She calmly began to deal with all the requisite paperwork and computer entry.
Mr. Q, it seems, has a propensity for subtlety and tact that is lacking in a great many others. [who knew?] During our brief lab visit, several other gentlemen arrived with TSSs for drop off. ['another one??!!', one staff member was heard to exclaim] Not all were remotely well hidden, nor even quietly presented. In fact, making as large a fuss as possible seemed to be some sort of requirement - fortunately, that particular requirement had been left off of Mr. Q's instruction sheet.
This was an extremely busy clinic. Had there not been a significant number children and elderly in attendance, I'd have been laughing my ass off at the frazzled, harried guys [a couple of whom were
While the mechanism of getting the TSS through the queue worked, there has to be a calmer way to accomplish it. But, when dealing with a bunch of frazzled, harried guys, perhaps not. I just hope that, when I have to go back for the rest of my bloodwork, it's not the drop-off time for any Time Sensitive Specimens. I can't possibly not giggle twice in a row.
posted by Jenn at
3:40 p.m.
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