Our children are all grown and on their own now. It’s a milestone some parents look forward to – when the nest is empty. Having happy, healthy, independent offspring finding their own success can be fulfilling to parents. At some point in the process, some parents also take steps when it seems the family has gained sufficient numbers. So it was with myself, once upon a time.

Under pressure, I was volunteered as the one to take the necessary steps to halt production of infants in the family. A bit uncomfortable at the time asking someone in the community to wield the scissors, I set up an appointment with a urologist in Kansas City recommended by a physician who had taken excellent care of me years earlier. At least I wouldn’t bump into any familiar faces there during the process.

An available date on the calendar coincided with plans to be in the vicinity. Not long after I arrived for the appointment, I was on my back spread-eagled with a sheet over me and feet in stirrups for the first (and hopefully last) time in my life. I listened to Kenny G play background music waiting for someone to join me. It didn’t take long.

A door swung open and a nurse walked in. “Oh, hi Dennis. Nice to see you again,” said a former assistant from the Kansas City dental school I had attended. So much for not bumping into anyone.

Departing the medical center, written instructions included setting up an appointment six weeks down the road to “make sure the procedure takes.” This didn’t seem necessary. If I had just received a replacement kidney or something – where a chance existed the body might reject the transplant – I would understand. Instead, the idea was more like a follow up to check if removal of my spleen in 2017 “took” or not. Evidently, there was uncertainty about snipping the correct item. Things appeared more or less normal down there. But, my expertise anywhere below the chin is limited.

I’m a rule follower, with rare exception. Once back home, I scheduled the obligatory appointment with a urologist, then researched what likely would be required to establish take vs. didn’t take status. There was need to look for swimmers doing the back stroke once an appropriate sample of where swimmers normally reside was obtained. Again, I couldn’t help but wonder about the awkwardness of encountering an acquaintance during the process.

When appointment day came, I arrived and checked in. My driver’s license confirmed I was who I claimed to be in case someone else was hired to see if I was incapable of procreation. The waiting area was more than half occupied as I nervously sat thumbing through Urology Today and Parenting magazines. Finally, my name was called from behind the reception desk.

“Mr. Sommers, the doctor needs you to provide a sample,” she said, sliding a small plastic vial with lid attached across the counter. “There is a bathroom just down the hall there,” she added, waggling a finger in the general direction. “Please return that here when you’re finished.” I sheepishly took the vial and headed toward the bathroom.

This is where the story becomes a bit uncomfortable to share. Let’s face it. There are times in life when you are required to complete a task you’d rather not be required to. Comparable examples are difficult to bring to mind. Suffice it to say that time spent in the bathroom was long enough to trigger not one, but two knocks on the door by nurses asking, “Is everything okay in there?”

Emerging from the lavatory, the vial was concealed in my coat pocket with the lid tightly closed. The reception room was now packed with folks as I approached the desk. I removed the goods nonchalantly from a pocket and slid the vial back across the counter to the woman who had given it to me. She took one look and said, “Oh no, Mr. Sommers. The doctor wants a urine sample.”

Simple mistakes can happen at any age, even during pre-retirement days.

Sommers is a retired Minot orthodontist, violinist with the Minot Symphony and author of the book, “Retirement? You Can’t HANDLE the Truth!”