Journey of a Kidney Stone- Part I

I've often heard that a kidney stone is like giving birth. But I've also heard women who have given birth say that they'd rather do that again than ever have another stone.

I recently had my first kidney stone experience and it's one I'm not planning on repeating......ever. The pain cannot be described. I've pulled muscles, broken bones, been stung by bees, bitten by animals, been punched, been cut by a knife, hit my funny bone and been kicked in the testicles. I have alot of tattoos. And yeah, they hurt getting them. But tattoo pain by comparison runs the gamut of a sting, pretty uncomfortable to just annoying. A kidney stone will make you it's bitch. It's crying, begging, wanna-put-bamboo-shutes-under-my-fingernails-to-take-my-mind-off-the-pain bitch.

My tale begins on the morning of Feb.25 2009. It was a typical morning; I saw my wife Maureen off to work and just finished up a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. Headed off to the bathroom to conduct my morning business. And that's when it happened, the sharp, unyielding radiating ache in my right side, from my ribcage to my hip. Front to back as well.

"Hmmm, that's curious, I'll just walk it off" I thought to myself. (Well, I'm not sure what I exactly thought. Honestly it was probably more like, "Holy ******* ****, this hurts!!"). I had worked out pretty hard the day before and thought I had pulled something. But as I continued to "walk it off", all I succeeded in doing was skyrocketing my heartrate and breaking out in a cold sweat. Before I knew it my walk had turned into a mild jog as it was too painful to be still.

So I did what any husband who's in pain who do..I called to whine to my wife. Now, I NEVER complain about pain. I might make a mention of it once in awhile, but I've always just dealt with it and have never used it as a tool to get attention. So when I called her to get some attention for my pain, she knew I was seriously hurting. I needed her to tell me what the hell what going on. She works in at a dermatologist office, but I didn't care...there were freakin' MD's in that building and somebody had to know SOMETHING. My wife is infinitely smarter than I am and I figured between her and the doctors they could figure out what was wrong with me. She was just getting to work so she said she'd call me right back when she got into the office.

In the interim I turned to the other place people go to get answers, the internet. I pulled up the almighty Google and put in "Right Side Pain". The first site I opened up had a chart with various symptoms and possible diagnosises like Appendicitis, Gall Stones, Pancreatitis and other lovely afflictions. Bottom line, the recommended course of treatment for them all was pretty much "get off the internet you schmuck and get to the ER right NOW." Great. Even if I wanted to read more I couldn't as the waves of pain made it impossible to sit in front of the computer any longer and I was practically flipping somersaults in agony as it was.

Meanwhile my cold-sweating continues, soaking me and my heart is about to beat out of my chest. And then the worst thing in the world happened. I suddenly noticed the back of my throat felt funny. Hey, I think I just might...YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK! Yep, I threw up. I hurt so bad I threw up. If there's one thing I hate in this world it's vomiting and if I even get the hint I may get sick I'll fight it with every fiber in my being. But this happened so fast I didn't even feel it coming. My body just went, " Hey man, this is gonna happen NOW."

Maureen calls me back and I whimper about getting sick. She suggests it's a pulled muscle and advises me to lay on a heating pad while she goes and tracks down one of her doctors to confer with. Okay, will do. We hang up but not before I tell her I love her because I'm pretty sure from the degree of pain I was never going to talk to her again. I'm able to lay on the heating pad for MAYBE two minutes total. The pain is compeletly unrelenting and it's hard to stay on the pad when you're rolling all over the rest of the bed like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

At this point, I was pretty convinced I was gonna die. And I wouldn't have minded to be honest. But I knew without a doubt I had to get to a hospital. I needed drugs, surgery, a hammer to the head...anything to get the pain and, now, vomiting to cease. So I called the NEXT person in line a guy calls after his wife to cry to...his Mommy. My mom lives just up the road from me. She answers the phone with a happy, sing-songy "Hel-lo!", obviously happy that her son that she hardly ever sees even though he lives less than a mile away is finally calling her. I get right to the point, "I need you to take me to the hospital". Without hesitation she says, "Okay. I'll be right down." I've never uttered those words to anyone ever. She knew I meant it! Maureen calls back and I just say, "I'm going to the hospital". "Okay, I"ll meet you there".

My mother was down in a flash and we were in my truck getting ready to pull out to go to the hospital. The hospital was a 20 min. drive away. I was still in agony but I felt just a tad better knowing I was about to be on my way to getting this thing, whatever it was, taken care of. Okay, on the way. Any minute now. Here we go. My Mom pulls off two feet then stops,

"How do you adjust the seat?"

"It's on the side."

"Which switch?"

"The big one."

The seat goes up.

"No the other one Mom."

The seat tilts forward.

"No the other one Mom."

She finds it. Okay, here we go! Two more feet.

"How do you adjust the steering wheel?"

"It's on the steering column Mom".

The hazard lights pop on.

"No, the other side Mom".

Mercifully, she remembers she's taking her dying, melting on the inside, creature-from-ALiens-about-to-burst-out-of-his-gut son to the hospital and decides to forego the tilt switch on the steering wheel and get us on our way. And of ourse, Mom, I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm certain if you hadn't been so quick to get me on the road I would've just tried cutting out my right side with a kitchen knife to get it to stop.

The ride to the hospital seemed forever due to the pain, but like I said, I felt a bit better knowing I was on my way. I got sick twice en route, which I actually welcomed because while I was busy trying to wretch up the demon that had inhabited by body it took my mind away from the pain for a few moments. That's when I knew I was in serious pain, when I actually looked forward to puking.

Okay, hospital in sight! We pull in and within moments I'm in a wheelchair being pushed into the sweet, sweet ER. Through the doors and there's no body else in there. Sweet! We roll up to the check-in desk and as I'm awaiting the entire cast of ER, Scrubs and MASH to come out and whisk me away to the back to make me all better, the receptionist is lazily tapping away at her keyboard helping another lady that's standing there. With my trained amateur medical eye, this lady looks to be in perfect health. I'm the one sheet-white, trembling in a wheelchair clutching my plastic Target bag o'puke....some service please?

Tap-tap-tappity- tap-tap. Like she's writing a letter to her Grandma. Finally she smiles and lazily hands my mom a clipboard to put my info on. She prints something. Waiting.... world's slowest printer. Still waiting. Okay printing done. More care-free tap-tappity-tapping. Hey, I understand there's a protocol involved here and you gotta get my information. But let's just do this in reverse...just give me the friggin drugs lady and I'll tell you everything you wanna know. My dreams, hopes and aspirations, we can talk about it all. But after I'm sufficiently medicated, okay?

More tapping. As I shake, sweat and wait some more, I notice that the emergency waiting area I'm currently in has brand new carpet. Who puts carpet in an emergency waiting room? Isn't this the place where bleeding people, women squirting babies out and other folks with various oozing things are supposed to come? The guys at Stanley Steemer must make a killing. Anyway, I suddenly feel the now familiar sensation in my throat and fear that I'm about to christen the brand new carpet when finally the I.D. wristband is put on my wrist and I'm immediately taken back.