I work three 12-hour shifts at a family medicine/convenient care clinic, so every now and then we send patients home with “homework.” Usually it’s straightforward—bring back a urine sample, collect a stool specimen, nothing out of the ordinary. This particular patient had been prescribed Tamiflu and ended up with diarrhea, so the nurse told her to stop by, pick up a collection kit, and bring a sample back.
Later that day, the patient’s spouse came in to drop it off—and right away, I knew something wasn’t quite right. He handed me not one, but two Walmart bags. Inside those was a gallon-sized Ziploc bag. At that point, I already had a bad feeling, like I was unwrapping some kind of medical-themed nesting doll. I kept going anyway—bag inside a bag inside another bag—mentally preparing myself for whatever was waiting at the center.
When I finally got through all the layers, I found the specimen: two perfectly formed stools, sitting neatly in a rectangular Tupperware container with a red lid. And honestly, I wasn’t even mad about the stool—that part comes with the job. What really got me was the container. Because that wasn’t some cheap, disposable plastic. That was good Tupperware.
And if you know, you know—good Tupperware doesn’t come cheap. So now I’m just standing there thinking… out of everything in your kitchen, you saw your best container and decided, “Yeah, this is the one.”
Submitted by:
Kemiyah Bradford
Laboratory Technician
Tennessee USA
