This Too Shall Pass

Take it from me: avoid kidney stones at all costs.

After I finished shoveling on Wednesday I came inside and was doing dishes when I felt a nasty pain on my right side. Not surprisingly, I thought it related to the fact that I had just moved a ton of snow with a shovel so I popped a painkiller and a muscle relaxant and laid down in bed. But no position was comfortable. No matter what I did the pain would not cease. I knew then that this was no muscle sprain. Had I given myself a hernia?

The pain got so bad that all I could do was moan and groan and writhe around on my bed. It came in waves. For about 20 minutes I'd been in sheer agony with the dull but very intense pain eating at my right side and then it would go away for a short time. Eventually it got so bad that The Dulcinea drove me to the ER. On the way there we had to pull over because I felt nauseous.

The streets were passable but by no means clear so it seemed like an eternity but we finally made it to the ER where I was interrogated for what was probably 3 minutes but, again, it seemed like forever. The pain was pretty severe but the receptionist kept asking question after question. I was about to keel over but she kept going. Am I employed? Is it full-time? Employer's name? Employer's address? This rather flummoxed me as she had my insurance card. I mean, couldn't the details wait until I was in a better way?

Luckily I was seen by a nurse straight away who checked my vitals and then shuffled off to an exam room where a doctor's assistant type fellow said that my symptoms were those of kidney stones. My dad had a kidney stone and I recalled him saying how incredibly painful it was. Great.

So I am lying on a gurney writhing in pain once more as a nurse sets up an IV. Do I want a topical anesthetic before the needle goes in? Nope. Just get it in and pump me full of drugs. Please! So the IV goes in and the saline solution or whatever it was followed. Where was my painkiller? Next came an anti-nausea drug. I thought they'd never give me anything for the pain. At last she starts injecting something that would stop me from squirming on the bed and holding fast to the rail. She gave me half a dose at first to see how that went. It didn’t do a thing so she gave me the whole nine yards. After a short while I still felt like my kidney was going to explode so she busted out the good stuff.

"I'm going to give you another painkiller," she announced.

I asked, "Is it an opiate?"

"Yes," was the reply.

Good. She explained that some people, upon getting the drug, feel like they're levitating. Must be good stuff! And it was. While I didn't feel as if I were floating above the gurney, the pain did go away and it was then off to get a CAT scan.

It didn't take long to get the results. It was a indeed a kidney stone. Two, in fact. My mind immediately thought about the kidney I had seen at the Bodies exhibition at Hilldale a couple months ago. There was a kidney on display that had been cut in half exposing stones. The poor person had like half a dozen of them and they ranged in size from tiny to a half-inch or more. I recoiled in horror.

As far as my own stones went, one was about 2mm and the other ½mm. The guy wasn't sure which was which on the printout of the scan. One had left my kidney already while the other was up at the top of it and would likely start its trek to my bladder soon. Lucky me. So I asked if they could do the ultrasound blast and bust those puppies to smithereens. Nope. They only do that for stones 5mm or larger. I was going to have to drink gallons of water and pass them.

Crap. I'd heard my father's tale of passing a stone and it is commonly said that pissing out a kidney stone is akin to giving birth on the pain scale. Hell, the nurse said as much for she had done both. Being jacked up on opiates at the time, the full impact of this foreboding news didn't register with my brain fully.

So I left there having had no ultrasound and no drugs to break up the stones. However, I was given prescriptions for an anti-nausea drug, Percocets, and something that would dilate my ureter or urethra or something like that to help the stones pass more easily. Curiously enough, the gentleman's explanation of the latter was prefaced with a caveat that there were no studies to prove that it actually worked but that it was standard operating procedure to prescribe it in cases like mine. (I think it's normally used to help men who have prostate problems urinate.)

I was also warned the at Percocets may very well cause constipation and so they have. I've been bombarding my guts with laxatives and stool softeners to no avail so there are times when I can't tell if the pain in my midsection is from a stone making its way to my bladder or a cramp from not being able to move my bowels.

I couldn't sleep Thursday night/Friday morning so I got up and paced the dining room as waves of pain came over me and I waited for a Percocet to kick in. Our cat was feeling frisky and wanted to play so she decided to attack my legs and feet. At least it was a distraction. Not having any paid time off, I went to work early on Thursday and Friday to make up the time I lost from not going to work on Wednesday owing to the blizzard. Those were some of the longest days of my life. I told some co-workers about my condition so that they knew what was happening if they should hear blood-curdling screams emanating from the men's room. Although no one had had them before a few people had relatives who had suffered from them. One guy told me that his father had kidney stones and recalled seeing him writhing in pain on the bathroom floor. It was the only time that he'd ever seen his father cry. Great. At least I got some sympathy.

So here I am three days later waiting for the excruciating pain and for it all to be over with. I have a funnel to pee in so I can capture the stone and have it analyzed. If passing one is as painful as childbirth, how can they expect me to hold a funnel? I don't get it. It really sucks going to the bathroom knowing that any second I could be suffering the pain of death. When I urinate a droplet inevitably forms on the filter creating a dark spot and each time I think that I've passed the stone although I know that it's just a droplet. Wishful thinking. However, on Wednesday I did spy a little flake on the filter. It was tiny and of a reddish brown hue. At the time I figured it was simply a bit of plastic or something from the packaging of the funnel and discarded it but, after some reflection, I am now hoping that it was the tiny stone and that I've only got one more to go. The funnel is off-white and this thing was brick red. It had to be the small stone, right?

I took my last Percocet a couple hours ago so I am expecting a return visit to the ER this morning. We've got it set so that the kid goes with grandpa as there's no point in A) upsetting him by having him watch me writhe in agony and B) having him sit around in the hospital waiting room. Poor kid. I know he'd rather be here shooting Nazis on the Wii.

One thing I've learned so far is that standing up and pacing is better than lying down or sitting. I have no idea why this should be.

Although it cannot come soon enough, this too shall pass.