Okay, okay. I’d decided not to tell you about the test – too much bathroom humor – but you asked for it, and I changed my mind. Up there, by the pig, it says “food and life,” right? Today’s more of the life part.
Something I actually like about having lupus is how it brings silliness and levity to situations that could otherwise be heavy. My meth, for example. I always hit hit up my meth dealer on Wednesday nights.
Kidneys (“the kids”) are another good example. When lupus begins to affect a person’s internal organs (which, all my moms should take note, it doesn’t always do), the kidneys often show the first signs, so they’re sometimes a heavy subject in our house. (Read: when I hit my quarterly freak-out, at which point I become unreasonably convinced that something bad is about to happen to me or someone I love, they become a subject.)
My kids are healthy healthy healthy as far as I know, but there’s always this underlying nervousness that one day, I’ll go see my doc, and when I get home there will be a voicemail saying “Hey, guess what? We took a look at your urine sample, and . . .” In my head, I never finish the sentence, I just worry (big surprise there, I know).
Anyway, this week I had The Big Test, a more in-depth way to check in on the kids than a regular urine sample, so I was sort of nervous. I locked on to the hilarity of having to save my own pee for 24 hours as a means of dealing with the test’s possible implications.
I usually think ahead. On test day, this proved to be a good thing: I made rice pudding first thing in the morning, before I even changed out of my pajamas, so that I wouldn’t have to cook or touch food during the test. Yes, I believe in washing my hands, but I felt the urge to be uber-Kosher about it. I put a swatch of the DANGER tape I’ve had since high school across the bathroom door, as a reminder. I decided to find a home for the jug in the fridge before I started, just to see where it would fit, and lo and behold, it was too wide for the refrigerator door, and too tall for any of the shelves. But I refused to completely reorganize the shelves of my refrigerator for a container of urine. So all day, up and down the stairs I went, first down to get the container from Tito’s beer fridge in the basement, then up to use it, then down again . . .
Tito pretended nothing was happening. He’s entirely supportive when it comes to the whole lupus thing, but has yet to accept the general idea that I have bodily functions. (After 11 years, he still blushes when I take a tampon out of my purse.)
My first sample was a bit of a disaster. You put a little collection device between the bowl and the seat, and when I stood up, I guess the device stuck to the seat, and somehow so did my ass, so I didn’t so much collect my first specimen as empty it temporarily into the device, then splash it all over my legs, the toilet, and the floor. Pee everywhere. After a shower and an intense cleaning session, I was back at my computer, thankful I had no immediate need to cook. (No wonder no one fills these things up, I thought. They all stop drinking after the first episode.)
I spent the remainder of my day reminding myself that not everyone I saw knew I was trapping my urine – it made me feel so old. And kinda dirty. I tried to go to a yoga class, and felt the first pangs of a bathroom need five minutes before the class started. I panicked and went home. We went out to dinner, and I put a Ball jar in my purse, just in case. For the first 45 minutes of dinner my mind circled around the possibility of getting stuck in the bathroom at a Vietnamese restaurant with more than a Ball jar’s worth of pee. I imagined the proprietor walking in on me, screaming in a tongue I didn’t understand about the crazy woman in the bathroom holding a drinking glass full of. . . So I drank very little. But I got through the rest of the day, without spilling again, and ended up with a new understanding of what toddlers must go through when they’re potty training (the anxiety!).
I’m proud to say that in the end, I filled more than one jug. I carried the two giant orange containers into the doctor’s office in a cute brown paper bag with fashionable, gifty handles. A nurse almost convinced me that I’d done part of it wrong, that I had to do it all over again, but we cleared that up. Now I just wait for the phone call.
And giggle, while my husband shakes his head and rolls his eyes, because now I know how much I pee in a day, and that makes me happy. I’d always wondered.
Pumpkin-Cardamom Rice Pudding with Maple Cream (PDF)
Recipe 292 of 365
Rice pudding is one of the few foods I develop insatiable cravings for – the urge hits, and I want a giant vat of it. I want to bathe it in cinnamon and eat it out of wide, warm mugs, savoring the sweet mixture of grainy and smooth textures in each spoonful. Here’s a delicious version that makes a perfect home for that random leftover cup of canned pumpkin.
TIME: 15 minutes active time
MAKES: 6 servings
4 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup Arborio rice
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons maple syrup
Combine 4 cups of the milk, rice, sugar, and salt in a medium saucepan, and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring occasionally. Right when the mixture boils (watch that it doesn’t boil over!), reduce heat to low and cook for 30 minutes, stirring every once in a while, until almost all the liquid is absorbed. Stir in the remaining 1/2 cup milk, pumpkin, and cardamom. Bring back to a simmer, then remove from heat.
Whip the cream in a cold bowl until soft peaks form. Add the maple syrup and whip until cream forms stiff peaks. Serve the pudding warm, topped with dollops of maple cream.
Checking in on the kids
Okay, okay. I’d decided not to tell you about the test – too much bathroom humor – but you asked for it, and I changed my mind. Up there, by the pig, it says “food and life,” right? Today’s more of the life part.
Something I actually like about having lupus is how it brings silliness and levity to situations that could otherwise be heavy. My meth, for example. I always hit hit up my meth dealer on Wednesday nights.
Kidneys (“the kids”) are another good example. When lupus begins to affect a person’s internal organs (which, all my moms should take note, it doesn’t always do), the kidneys often show the first signs, so they’re sometimes a heavy subject in our house. (Read: when I hit my quarterly freak-out, at which point I become unreasonably convinced that something bad is about to happen to me or someone I love, they become a subject.)
My kids are healthy healthy healthy as far as I know, but there’s always this underlying nervousness that one day, I’ll go see my doc, and when I get home there will be a voicemail saying “Hey, guess what? We took a look at your urine sample, and . . .” In my head, I never finish the sentence, I just worry (big surprise there, I know).
Anyway, this week I had The Big Test, a more in-depth way to check in on the kids than a regular urine sample, so I was sort of nervous. I locked on to the hilarity of having to save my own pee for 24 hours as a means of dealing with the test’s possible implications.
I usually think ahead. On test day, this proved to be a good thing: I made rice pudding first thing in the morning, before I even changed out of my pajamas, so that I wouldn’t have to cook or touch food during the test. Yes, I believe in washing my hands, but I felt the urge to be uber-Kosher about it. I put a swatch of the DANGER tape I’ve had since high school across the bathroom door, as a reminder. I decided to find a home for the jug in the fridge before I started, just to see where it would fit, and lo and behold, it was too wide for the refrigerator door, and too tall for any of the shelves. But I refused to completely reorganize the shelves of my refrigerator for a container of urine. So all day, up and down the stairs I went, first down to get the container from Tito’s beer fridge in the basement, then up to use it, then down again . . .
Tito pretended nothing was happening. He’s entirely supportive when it comes to the whole lupus thing, but has yet to accept the general idea that I have bodily functions. (After 11 years, he still blushes when I take a tampon out of my purse.)
My first sample was a bit of a disaster. You put a little collection device between the bowl and the seat, and when I stood up, I guess the device stuck to the seat, and somehow so did my ass, so I didn’t so much collect my first specimen as empty it temporarily into the device, then splash it all over my legs, the toilet, and the floor. Pee everywhere. After a shower and an intense cleaning session, I was back at my computer, thankful I had no immediate need to cook. (No wonder no one fills these things up, I thought. They all stop drinking after the first episode.)
I spent the remainder of my day reminding myself that not everyone I saw knew I was trapping my urine – it made me feel so old. And kinda dirty. I tried to go to a yoga class, and felt the first pangs of a bathroom need five minutes before the class started. I panicked and went home. We went out to dinner, and I put a Ball jar in my purse, just in case. For the first 45 minutes of dinner my mind circled around the possibility of getting stuck in the bathroom at a Vietnamese restaurant with more than a Ball jar’s worth of pee. I imagined the proprietor walking in on me, screaming in a tongue I didn’t understand about the crazy woman in the bathroom holding a drinking glass full of. . . So I drank very little. But I got through the rest of the day, without spilling again, and ended up with a new understanding of what toddlers must go through when they’re potty training (the anxiety!).
I’m proud to say that in the end, I filled more than one jug. I carried the two giant orange containers into the doctor’s office in a cute brown paper bag with fashionable, gifty handles. A nurse almost convinced me that I’d done part of it wrong, that I had to do it all over again, but we cleared that up. Now I just wait for the phone call.
And giggle, while my husband shakes his head and rolls his eyes, because now I know how much I pee in a day, and that makes me happy. I’d always wondered.
Pumpkin-Cardamom Rice Pudding with Maple Cream (PDF)
Recipe 292 of 365
Rice pudding is one of the few foods I develop insatiable cravings for – the urge hits, and I want a giant vat of it. I want to bathe it in cinnamon and eat it out of wide, warm mugs, savoring the sweet mixture of grainy and smooth textures in each spoonful. Here’s a delicious version that makes a perfect home for that random leftover cup of canned pumpkin.
TIME: 15 minutes active time
MAKES: 6 servings
4 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup Arborio rice
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons maple syrup
Combine 4 cups of the milk, rice, sugar, and salt in a medium saucepan, and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring occasionally. Right when the mixture boils (watch that it doesn’t boil over!), reduce heat to low and cook for 30 minutes, stirring every once in a while, until almost all the liquid is absorbed. Stir in the remaining 1/2 cup milk, pumpkin, and cardamom. Bring back to a simmer, then remove from heat.
Whip the cream in a cold bowl until soft peaks form. Add the maple syrup and whip until cream forms stiff peaks. Serve the pudding warm, topped with dollops of maple cream.
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