Have you or anyone you know ever suffered from kidney stones? I have had several. From what some women have told me, childbirth pain is easier than passing a stone. I used to think that perhaps they were telling me this to humour me, but since the pain can be freakishly unbearable, I now believe them. At times, it feels like trying to pee out a potato.
But like always, I try to see the positive or perhaps humorous side of things. There are quite obviously worse things to be afflicted with to be sure. So complaining about a stone is hardly worth mentioning. My buddy Ken at the 4 Seasons always knows when I’m in the middle of trying to pass one. I stop in, buy a paper, grimace, try to choose a movie to rent, grunt, sweat, and lament a bit. He sends me on my way with a little sympathetic anecdote or two, and I feel somewhat better. I get home, spend some time with the dogs, drink copious amounts of liquids, and try to pass that sucker. It usually works, too. I swear sometimes that when it passes, you hear the ‘ting!’ in the toilet.
Unfortunately, it is the time in between the start of symptoms and the final release of the stone that is kind of a twilight-like blur that can be filled with Alice in Wonderland experiences. It can be a very emotional time, due to the meds and the chemical imbalances attendant to this affliction. I will give you some examples.
A couple of stones ago, I was lying in bed, watching The Ellen Degeneres show. All was going swimmingly well. I was in a zone where it was bearable. But, the show happened to feature animal abuse, and how people had stepped forth to rescue pets from certain death and unimaginable horror. By the time my wife got home, I was an emotional wreck. It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing mascara. Tears were flowing, the Kleenex box was empty…I was a mess. When you are in a painful stupor, your juices get all mixed up. It’s at times like this that watching television is not safe. I would cry watching ‘Lord of the Rings’.
Once, when only morphine worked to abate the pain, I imagined a world with a tap-dancing guinea pig named Mortimer who controlled weather patterns and the outcome of hockey games. Those 48 hours I passed in a semi-stupor, partying with Mortimer, making it snow in North Bay, and ensuring the Leafs lost while the Canadiens won.
I would have random thoughts like, why is it that on bicycles, it’s acceptable for little girls to have a big basket, but for adults, it’s not? Who do you think needs to carry more stuff? Do little girls go to the beer store? I do! It seems that a basket would be handy for that, don’t you think? I’m not asking for a basket with little pink flowers on it, just something stout and manly to carry my beer and chips in.
You have times where you have to lie still and not move for a very long time. I know how many circles there are on my wallpaper in my bedroom (10,208). I’ve read the December 2006 Reader’s Digest 18 times now. I know the buttons of my remote control without looking at them (and it’s a good thing, because the numbers are worn off). I know how many steps it is from the bed to the toilet (7 to 10, depending on the need, and in what position you are lying in).
Having a kidney stone attack and a credit card and wireless internet can be a deadly combination. Thanks to these times, I have a Kindle, my son has an iPod, Anne has a Bamix blender, and we should be receiving my new Easy-Bake oven mixes any day now.
I certainly don’t recommend you trying this at home. Well, actually, it’s about the best place to try this, but you know what I mean. If you suffer from stones, I feel you, brother (or sister). Drink plenty of fluids, stay close to the biffy, get meds if you need ‘em, and try not to watch Ellen if she’s doing another one of those abused pet shows.
Bill's Musings 