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I packed my towel and swimsuit. I checked the swimming time for women. So what could stand between me and my first ‘training’ for this event next month which I really want to take part in? Only the entrance fee to the brand new municipal swimming pool, I thought. So there I was, telling the guy at reception: I want to swim. Unfortunately, it was not that easy. I could go downstairs, he said, where a number of women and children were waiting in line outside a door with ‘health room’ written on it. Apparently they were going to check my health first. And hearing the children starting to cry one minute after they went into the health room, I got an idea of the procedure. Also people coming out with a cup, going away for a minute and coming back with the cup wrapped in toilet paper, gave me a clue – in fact I needed to pee right then, but assumed it was better to hold it a bit longer. I considered protesting at such a health check, but then I thought: Hey, that’s apparently how it works here, let’s just play along. So while I giggled to myself, the nurse took some blood, made a cpg and gave me a cup into which I quickly relieved myself. Anything else, nurse? No, nothing else. Wednesday morning, she said, you can come back to get your license. So Wednesday I will finally get wet!

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