Urinalysis Paralysis

No, dear reader, there is very little that is off-limits here. Well, that's a lie but this is a topic that just begs to be written about. Since dooce and Pioneer Woman haven't discussed it on their megablogs, I realized the Universe was telling me it was my duty to bring this issue out of the closet and into the light.

I know I'm not alone in dreading my annual visit to the groinicologist. I put that sucker off as long as I can. It's not so much about worrying about a negative finding or physical pain or discomfort. Hell, it's nothing compared to the boob pancaking that also takes place annually. It's just that emotionally I have to shut down completely and pretend I'm not in the room with my doc. Since I stopped dissociating, I've found it damn near impossible to block it all out. PTSD was good for something after all. Who knew?

Anyway, after chatting for a while, Trish asked if I needed to empty my bladder before the exam. I opted to do so as a precaution. Nothing could possibly be more embarrassing than to pee all over her while she was scrounging around right next to my urethra.

I casually strolled into the beautifully appointed bathroom at the women's only practice. And sat. And sat. And sat some more. Mind you, she'd already told me she didn't need a sample so there was no pressure to perform. None whatsoever at all. And yet, there I was, 6 feet from the sink, sitting unproductively. The distance from the sink is important to note. Warm water over fingers is my one and only sometimes-it-works method for dealing with this paralysis.

This is not a new experience for me. It happens every time I believe I have to pee quickly so I'm not wasting any one's time. It's another disease of the mind that I can't seem to overcome. I experience this everywhere, even at home. Which seems completely stupid, but there it is.

This is one of the reasons I didn't become a professional athlete. Mandatory urinalysis done randomly for drug testing. I won't work in any industry that has a drug-testing rule that involves urine. Blood I'm good with. Urine not so much.

I was in a situation for about 5 months where random testing was done. If you're unfamiliar with how this works, you don't go in there alone. You have a buddy who does her best not to look at you while making sure you're not emptying a clean sample from the tube hidden up your sleeve. My experience of this was enough to make me leave because of the panic attacks.

A few truisms about urinalysis paralysis for women:

The contents of a full bladder will return to its point of origin under stress.
Straddling the seat to let gravity help is either futile or messy.
The more focus you bring to the task, the less able you will be to perform.
What looks like a small cup becomes super-sized mid-stream and is unfillable.
If you can't reach a sink from the seat, you're totally screwed.

And finally, the most important truth to remember is:

The longer it takes, the longer it's going to take.

Am I alone in my neurosis or do other women experience this too? And the big question I've always wondered is do men experience this at all?

Your feedback will help me to gauge just how many more neuroses I'm entitled to before permanent institutionalization is my last option.

Thank you.

Peace.

Linking up to Alphabe-Thursday over at Jenny's place.