Reduced to Poo

At one point in time in my life I was a scientific researcher and a pretty good one at that. Though days of repeating the same experiments over and over again seemed mundane, in retrospect, it wasn't such a bad gig. I do miss the discipline of experimentation and the methodical nature of it all. My pipettes and test tubes were the instruments that played out what radical ideas I had for the day.

It's been a few years since I've touched any type of experimental tools, so I found myself improperly excited today when I had to collect fecal samples from both my children. We have been having a bit of a poo problem around here and so, their doctor and I agreed to test their stool to make sure everything is as it should be and all that is needed is a quick change in diet to get the poo back on track.

I patiently waited for each of my lovely children to poo (which they did within 5 minutes of each other!) and I stood over them eager to get my hands on their diapers, much like I used to stand over my mice ready to take their blood. After each child was wiped, changed and sent on their merry way, I gathered the diapers, made myself inaccessible to the twosome and began my fun for the day.

Carefully removing all 6 containers from the bags, I read the ingredients on each one. The first tube had 10% formalin in it, the second a growth medium, and the third had some type of fixative thicker goo. Like a good researcher, I wrote the names, dates, times of collection, and sample consistency on the labels first, then slowly uncapped the tubes and began dredging my collection stick through the mess. I have a horrible cold at the moment and could not smell a thing and for this I was grateful.

I was surprised at how much I had to get into such tiny tubes but I carefully placed the poo with patience and accuracy. After I finished, I examined my work, recapped the lids and followed the directions to shake and combine. The task was finished and I was oddly proud of this little setup. I wish I had someone to show my very neat and organized lab bench but alas, no one would care.

Throwing the children in the car, I rushed to Quest Diagnostics to hand over the collections. The man met me at the window and I smiled as I handed them over. He didn't even glance at the gift that I had just given him. I had painstakingly written all the necessary information (and some unnecessary information) on the tubes. I arranged them by type, color and had separated each into little plastic baggies. He did not care.

He also did not care that at one time, I handled cancer patient tumor samples, mined through endless data or had operated on rodents. To him, I was just another stay-at-home mom who was over reacting to her children's diarrhea.

I took my children's insurance card's back into my hands and asked "was that all?" He said, "yes". That was that. I slowly backed out the door, to load the kids back into the car, drive home, unload the kids, and put them down for a nap. My excitement for the day was over and it was time to fold laundry.

My kids will probably never know that mom used to do some pretty cool things on a lab bench, at least not for many years, and even when they get to those years, they may just not care. I'll probably just be that mom who gets them disqualified from the science fair because running an EMSA gel is just too advanced for a 5th grader.