Sunday week ago I had a familiar pain in my back that had "kidney stone" written all over it. I thought it passed. Then Wednesday morning on the way to work I went to the "walk in" after dropping off the mail. The doc said he had had 14 such passings which made this fourth stone of mine seem rather insignificant and small. I got drugs and a Cat-scan and got scheduled to have them--yes two, one on each side--removed on Monday. Thus began the weekend from Hell.
On Saturday pain on a scale of 10 hit again and I started drinking water like crazy and got out my "stash" of oxicondone that I keep for just such emergencies. The pain increased and so I asked Carolyn to take me to the ER. They gave me the really good stuff, morphine and Aretha and I were singing “R E S P E C T” in the car going home-after a stop over in Appleton for even more pain killers at the all night pharmacy.
My songs turned to a dirge by Sunday night because my whole system, front and back, was blocked. Seems narcotics have an interesting side effect which is in the very, very small print of the information which pharmacists give us with the meds. They "may" produce the worse case of constipation ever felt or endured by humankind. So another request to my lovely wife to take me back to the ER. (These people now know us by first names.) My insides were screaming as loudly as the little baby who was hurting as much, if not more, than I.
So they decided which blockage to attack first. A foley catheter was inserted by a male nurse who told me male nurses still make up only about ten percent of the nursing profession. In the past these tubes were inserted while I was knocked out and for a very good reason. This relieved the first blockage quickly. The next jam up was penetrated by another tube which carried suppository. This was a female nurse who had to first ask me for the "umpteenth" time what allergies and medical conditions I have. I said, "Hypertension, kidney stones and endometriosis". She quickly said I doubt if you had that. No, I said, that was Carolyn who was rolling on the ER floor. (I had meant to say diverticulotis--hey I was hurting and for all I cared they could remove whatever was left of my man-hood. Well, even after knowing what its like to be in prison, this took much longer to pass. I had even passed a particle of stone that did not hurt as much as sending three days worth of hard stool through my hemorrhoids. And finally relief. (There's a rumor that it took three aids to remove the pot from the room--well that's the only part of this story which isn't true.)
After Monday finally arrived, my lovely and very tired wife drove me to St. E’s Hospital in Appleton because our insurance only covers the Neenah hospital if it's an "emergency". Finally after five days the time had come for the removal of the stones which would soon be snagged out of my urethra with a little help of the urologist named Fisher...no lie. He scooped, lazared and netted them puppies or guppies. I awoke in recovery were my mouth felt like wool. Later they gave me toast with peanut butter which was drier than the Sierra. I awoke stone less but not stint-less, and still retaining the mother of all these little ones that still lives in my left kidney. Can't wait till that mother passes. Soon my wife, daughter and best friend arrived to watch me gag on the toast and tell me how good I looked and ask me how I felt...feeling lighter and Carolyn took me and my foley home. Services for the stones will be held Sunday as they rest in pieces.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of ups and downs emotionally, physically and "comod-ically". I was suppose to wait till Thursday but Wednesday night the foley had to go so I deflated the balloon and pulled and am finally free. Whoever said freedom doesn't come without pain was right. For now. Seven more days and the stints come out. I can wait.
So, why remember all this? Partly for me but hopefully some of this may help my friends and neighbors who endure similar adventures on their journey. And mainly because when the Rolling Stones are no more making their music (some believe Mick will never die) they will be long and well remembered for what they left behind. And like all hurts and loses, their story needs to be told and retold. To some they were a joke and from them they 'can't get no satisfaction'; to others they were 'mother's little helpers' and to me they will always be the essence of 'you can't always get what you want'.
More important is your life journey--remembered, retold, relived with all its joys, warts, stones and all. ‘Cause baby 'you can always get what you need' if you seek it. Keep on asking and searching. Just keep knock, knock, knocking; it may be right under the next stone.***
http://www.lifeconnectionsinc.com
***May I suggest the "rolled away" one?
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