"Excuse me officer, my neighbor is squatting in her yard."

As I sometimes dance and occasionally trudge through my 50's it seems that whenever I go to the doctor they always want a piece of me.
Not in the "let's wrestle" kind of way, but literally.
My urine.
My blood.
My credit card number.
Once I had a breast biopsy.
That was fun.
Please see previous post about mammograms and add a 3 foot needle to the process.
They gave me a bullet to bite on just like in the old West.
Had to be done.
But by far the worst body part deposit ever requested is the infamous stool sample.
Sadly, this is not the cute fold-up metal kind you get at Home Depot.
Generally this request is delivered to you after a check-up where they tell you that it’s now against the rules to eat a pound of Chips Ahoy everyday.
And that you must add some kind of grain to your daily intake that looks like it comes out of a bird feeder.
"Yo Doc, won't I start plucking feathers from my breast to build a nest if I ingest this stuff?"
So there you are post check-up, paper gown still revealing all your sagging body bits, hanging your sugar addict head in shame, and they come in and hand you the "Fecal Immunochemical Test Brush Kit."
This is medical terminolgy for "scraping your poop with a stick".

"Is this a parting gift?" (I thought it was a Krispy Creme gift card)
"No ma'am, that is for you to take home."
"Just follow the instructions."
"Um, okay, I guess."
"A co-pay PLUS homework??"
Now for all of you youngsters who have never been subjected to this process, please let me warn you.

Any test that you must do at home which requires you to make sure your toilet bowl has no bluing agents and is clean before you begin is not a good sign.

Sure as shootin’ you are going to be fishing around in the porcelain throne for something and it’s not gonna be pennies from Heaven.

Kind of a crapper craft project.

Warning:

For all of you with weak stomachs, you might just want to skip this next part.

Basically your fecal sample mission involves diggin’ around on a hunk of doody with a tiny wooden ice cream stick and then smearing it inside two tiny circles on a cardboard card.

The logistics of this process have always plumb evaded me.

Because unless I plan on hunkering down in the yard next to the pup and disturbing the neighbors to complete my quest, this is going to involve some serious planning.

I feel it’s critical to procure the "sample" while it's in route to it's watery grave.

Obviously, I do not want to plunge my hand into the land of the bum.

I have actually contemplated using an empty butter tub as a log catcher to keep me from having to fish around in the swirly water.

Hey, I’m creative.

So after deciding on your collection method of choice you get to fold up your potty prize into this miniature cardboard gift card and mail it back to your doctor.

The instructions read:
                                  1. Protect from heat and direct sunlight….duh

                                  2. Do not reuse……seriously?

                                  3. Do not open……goes without saying.

And because I am mentally ill I always think about what happens to it after I plop it in the mail.

Here's hoping the poor postal worker doesn’t get too many of these gems to carry around in their sweaty, leathery bags.

Especially on a hot, Summers day.

Poor buggers.

And because I am also a little twisted, it occurred to me that I would enjoy throwing a monkey wrench into the works the next time they ask me to perform this delightful task.

What if I whipped up a puppy poo and took the sample from there instead?

Believe me, I have a lot of those readily available!

I can just hear the lab technician now.

“Hey, Pete, will you come look at this?”

“WHAT do you think that is?”

“It’s from a stool sample.”

“If I didn’t know better I would swear it’s a piece of a Nike!”

“Or a sock!”

“Wow, I heard of some weird fiber supplements, but who would munch on their own smelly sneaker?"

Speaking of that, maybe we humans could try snacking on footwear for our intestinal blockage troubles..

Cuz I have never heard of a puppy having to whip out his bullet blender to mix up a batch of liver flavored Metamucil.

……..I’m just sayin’