I Pissed in the Sink
Oh my God what … the … ever … loving … fuck … at WORK for fuck’s sake walked into the men’s room and the next thing I know I am standing in front of the sink pissing in it! Cut off the stream went to the urinal to finish nothing left went back to the sink cleaned it out as if I could soap away the deed. Oh thank God thank you JESUS nobody saw me I shrink in horror from the thought — the unspeakable humiliation! What would I have done left and never shown my face again that’s what.
What do I do with this? I — pissed — in — the — sink — at — work! My mind slipping? An early sigh of encroaching Alzheimer’s? I’m kinda young for that, 66, but it’s not impossible. Even if it is so I’m already DOING all the things an MD would say do under the circumstances — exercising more than anyone I know, doing things that involve other people, what else is there? Left a call back request with my MD anyway. What the heck?
As we drove home I told my wife.
“How was your day?”
“I pissed in the sink.”
“I pissed in the sink. I went into the men’s room and the next thing I knew I was standing in front of one of the sinks pissing in it!”
“Did you really have to go?”
“Were you distracted?”
“I’m always distracted.”
“You’ve been taking that Dextromethorphan preparation. That could have befuddled you.”
“I called Dr. S and left a message. He hasn’t called back.”
“No surprise there.”
“What would he tell me anyway? I’m already doing everything …”
Back and forth like that for a while. After 26 years, she knows how to bring me to a little perspective. What would I do without her?
Dr. S did call back, the next day.
“Dr. S! Thanks for getting back to me.”
“No problem, Paul. What’s going on?”
“Let me get some place private.”
[Gets some place private.]
“I pissed in the sink at work.”
“So it was like you walked into the men’s room and woke up to find yourself urinating in the sink.”
[Yes, it was exactly like that! How did he know?]
“Thank God no one saw!”
“Well if someone had been there I’m sure your self monitoring would have…”
“I mean, no one walked in. “
“On the deed, you mean. Yeah, there’s that.“
“What do you think?”
“Well it doesn’t sound like it was part of a pattern. Usually we only become concerned if it’s part of a pattern.”
“My wife thinks it might have had something to do with the Dextromethorphan preparation I’ve been taking for a lingering cough from a cold I had last week.”
“I doubt it, but it’s good that you told her. She would be in a position to see any patterns that there might be. Sometimes this sort of thing can be related to lack of sleep. Both for the usual modern reasons and because of sleep apnea, but then again you don’t have that. How have you been sleeping?”
“Pretty good. I don’t wake up as often to use the bathroom.”
“Well that’s good. Those medications are starting to work, then.”
After a year and a half I should hope so.
I didn’t ask about Alzheimer’s, and he didn’t bring it up. I’ll take that as a good sign.
Patterns. I won’t tell anyone that after changing out of my sweaty bike jersey last night, I spent the rest of the choir rehearsal with my shirt misbuttoned.